LUST

Driven by lust for long years it's refreshing to find love

He was a nonsense on the wing,

A fluttering wayward teasing thing,

A verbal kind of yellow bird,

A solitary little word…

He was the song we used to sing,

A scintillating bit of bling,

A lonely knight upon the shore,

Meaning less and saying more…

He was the prayer we used to pray,

The nonsense words we’d cheaply say,

The tales an arcane jester tells,

His teasing tinkling troubled bells…

He was the dark before the dawn,

Herald of a jewelled morn,

The coat the peachy maiden wore,

The savage hasty words she swore…

His was the sweat that used to flow

In rivers as her face might glow,

Lust masquerading for a time

Half a hope and half a rhyme…

Then, when the silly years are past

And lust lies dead at lonely last

His waste a thing to look upon,

We thank our love that he is gone…

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is a brilliant way to write about a much-covered topic. It's an exquisite blend of straightforward slightly-prettied-up raunch with an elevated tone of Elizabethan here & there. It's just the weirdest combination I've ever read, but I love it. Every word & phrase is creatively crafted & some are mind-blowing: "teasing tinkling troubled bells" . . . "the dark before the dawn" . . . & much more. Perfect rhyme & rhythm, too.

[Peter Rogerson]

I posted this some time ago, along with a few other poems I've written over the years.

[Anon1]

Favourite line was "Meaning less but saying more" ... I thoroughly enjoyed this poem

[Sami Khalil]

A very fine poem. I like every bit of this Jewel. I shall come back to visit...:)...........

[Peter Rogerson]

You will be most welcome, Sami. Most of my output is in the realm of fiction.

[Sami Khalil]

Ok. You are welcome. ....:::)))))

[emmajoy]

Fine meter, fine phrases,

'He was the prayer we used to pray, ..The nonsense words we’d cheaply say, The tales an arcane jester tells, ..His teasing tinkling troubled bells…'

For me, that ultimate stanza suggests that love is the reply to whatever precious, whereas lust is merely a stuttering answer. Perhaps!

[emmajoy]

Your meter, your thought process, the final result: word perfect and worth at least an annual visit, David.

[Leo]

We thank our love that he is gone indeed..you embarked me on a great picturesque journey and disembarked me at power of love..vividly and creatively expressed!

[John]

The poem is bejewelled with lovely detail like the scintillating bit of bling which, along with the other tokens of lust, is carried along in the sweeping rhythm of the poem. This driving relentless force only finally comes to a halt in the penultimate stanza as lust is finally stymied by love. A very impressive piece of writing.

[Peter Rogerson]

Thanks for your kind words, John. I have written many poems over the years, and this is one of my personal favourites.