Have you worn a ring for a long time, and one day, in disgust, thrown it from you into the corner of the room, screaming in disappointment? And, after years, perhaps healing years, perhaps worse than that day you threw it, you still grasp the finger it was on often, because you feel its presence. It's as if you are still wearing it. Well, I still feel its presence. It's as if I never took it off. And this ring has been choking me, not letting go. I hate it.

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I ran across this poem, and was amazed. This is my kind of poem.

Sonnet 75

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
Vain man, said she, that doest in vain assay
A mortal thing so to immortalize,
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eek my name be wiped out likewise.
Not so (quoth I), let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your virtues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens write your glorious name.
Where whenas Death shall all the world subdue,
Out love shall live, and later life renew.
-Edmund Spenser

This is just superb, isn't it??
Adonis

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...As you first read the upcoming poem, it may seem weak, needing adjustment, or perhaps, ugly sounding. But, in my opinion, humble though firmly expressed, it is very good. I understand that the rhythm is halting often, and the fluidity is murky. But, dear ones, as is the idea. Read it once, twice, even thrice. Understand the idea, see how the hesitation in reading it applies. Tell me if I'm still sane.

Once and Now.

Once, when love was not forbidden,
People fell in love publicly,
And never was pure love hidden.

They spoke with signs and whispered low,
And watched the sunrise silently;
They held hands, walking in the snow.

Now, love is sadly long, long gone.
With it, lovers, disastrously,
Now abandoned, remain alone.



That's all.
Adonis

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At midnight on the darkest night the year has in store, when all men are lulled by sleep, I walk the dusty roads lit only by the misty street lamps, as the moon is out of sight. The cold is unbearable as my heart chokes in its agonies. In indecisiveness I wander, lost in the dust and sweaty, shivering, blinded by the darkness, and broken by sadness. Insomnia has haunted me for four months and a half now; how daunting is a life with no sleep. While I walk, lethargic with lassitude, quivering in the overwhelming algidity, feeling pain in every trace of skin exposed to the night, I think about those who once would have let me in to a warm bed, to a peaceful night's sleep. I think of ones I'd loved, of ones I wish I'd loved, and of ones that'd loved me. I think of broken hearts whose owners are never meant to be spoken of ever again. The mere thought of 'never again' makes a tear slide down my numb cheek, and as the tear freezes there, halfway between my eye and chin, near my red nose, I stop. I have run out of road, I have long left the town and its dust. I find myself in a snow storm somewhere surreal and strange, yet am more lost than ever. Suddenly, my heart decides to stop beating, and I die, an old man in a snowy desert, deserted.

Ad*nis

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