thoughts regarding love by a man of aged years
How could a soul as lost as me win beauty heart so dear
For you are young with thoughts so free and brave
But I alas am burdened by the autumn of my years
A lad grown not to prince but aged knave.
You dwell in innocence immortal in your views
In lands of content shared with words spoke plain
Whilst I my dear lay wake in fear of all my life's untruths
All those deceits which visit me with shame.
And yet you are the spark within that lifted me from mire
My world the realm of unwritten muse
Your presence though unseen did alight my celestial fire
This vagabond whose penchant was to use.
You write your prose aflame with truth and youthful honesty
Your gilded quill arace upon the page
I write from desert barren devoid all tranquillity
My words though true remorseless in their rage.
You live in perfumed gardens eternal in their bloom
Indeed I see a Camelot so fair
My abode be cold and dark with overmuch of gloom
A citadel to enter fools who dare.
But now at last my tears shed in the shadow of my soul
Cease to cut like ice upon my face
Your words heal with a sympathy I see within your scroll
I feel in them the comfort of your grace.
Brendan.
Poetry by Brendan Finbarr Tully
Read 722 times
Written on 2005-10-19 at 20:53
Tags Hope
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Saving Grace
How could a soul as lost as me win beauty heart so dear
For you are young with thoughts so free and brave
But I alas am burdened by the autumn of my years
A lad grown not to prince but aged knave.
You dwell in innocence immortal in your views
In lands of content shared with words spoke plain
Whilst I my dear lay wake in fear of all my life's untruths
All those deceits which visit me with shame.
And yet you are the spark within that lifted me from mire
My world the realm of unwritten muse
Your presence though unseen did alight my celestial fire
This vagabond whose penchant was to use.
You write your prose aflame with truth and youthful honesty
Your gilded quill arace upon the page
I write from desert barren devoid all tranquillity
My words though true remorseless in their rage.
You live in perfumed gardens eternal in their bloom
Indeed I see a Camelot so fair
My abode be cold and dark with overmuch of gloom
A citadel to enter fools who dare.
But now at last my tears shed in the shadow of my soul
Cease to cut like ice upon my face
Your words heal with a sympathy I see within your scroll
I feel in them the comfort of your grace.
Brendan.
Poetry by Brendan Finbarr Tully
Read 722 times
Written on 2005-10-19 at 20:53
Tags Hope
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
