It's the Cupido, Stupido

[butters]

This is remarkable, Chipbutty, particularly lines 11-12.

you are a most generous critic ty

Love is the greatest thing for which I search,
Beyond loneliness and internal pain,
Mind heavy with thoughts, toward you I lurch;
My true love lies ahead with much to gain;
For my lady I would lose all I've had
For my dear I would give my very life;
Prince or pauper, cupid's gift makes me glad;
The warmth of a lover, surmounts much strife;
My word is promised, a chivalrous oath;
My love is your light, yours my treasured gift;
Together this humble world is ours both;
Alone we can take our time or be swift;
With you my universe stops, it freezes;
Come to me for many loving squeezes.

welcome to the forum, FS, and how cool to see a newcomer invest in posting in the challenges! your opening line is as profound (and troubled) as life itself.

What I Learned of Love in Troy

I never worried about Penelope
on this journey some few gods have made

my penance for a war I only played
to win. I’ve dealt with other things—Circe,

Lotus-Eaters, rock-bound sirens swayed
by delirium of lust and need

to open their legs and sing, so that we
would smash our small boat off their stunted quay

just to get to them. I don’t need love that much.
I trust what waits for me in Ithaka

is all my blood, my son Telemachus
and his sturdy-bodied mother. Ah,

I long to luxuriate at home and slice
the fine-stretched throats of those who’ve loved my wife.

rich, like a new-sewn tapestry - the end lines make me sense the warm throats, the flesh, the sharp edge of the blade. did i mention i liked it?

My clock does not keep time as others do
nor beat a regular pace as others will.
It speeds ahead an hour, a day or two.
Sometimes it rolls, on hands, a mile downhill.
My time is paid in tension or in lieu
unearned, unschooled, untended in bastille.
I'd rather all my hours be spent on you
in second handed pockets overfilled
with palms and pulses regular as trains.
Alas my clock does not keep time so well.
It's less a thing of metal, more of grains:
some seconds pass uneaten, beaten cells
abysmal, beg to fall upon your plains
as all my beats before your feet once fell.

s'lovely, PG and hourglasses beat metronomes anyday imo. stay grainy

Thank you for the welcome. I don't really think I'm that good. I started posting in this section on advice of a friend who liked my musings.

not thinking you're 'that good' is a good place to start to improve, and this place is a fine place to grow. keep reading, writing, commenting and joining in and you will see your writes develop just as we all have. your friend did good, sending you here

Thanks Ben, ChippyB and Tzara. You make me smile at the end of this difficult week. Fractured, pleased to meet you! Welcome to the PF&D!

sorry to hear it was a difficult week for you, and glad we managed to engineer a lift to those gold lips

 

[butters]

silly sweet n sour, apologies in advance

jus' playin'



to a dishy valentine

so if you were a dish, i'd see a feast
a table full of wonder, full of taste,
an oriental spread, the very least,
with dips and whatnots fit to spread the waist.
you're something to be savoured, that's for sure
not gobbled up, consumed in undue haste;
and, though a feast, you'd leave me craving more -
a greedy wench instead of sweet and chaste.
your fingers, wrists and toes make perfect nibbles
(with other parts a fine main course, of course)
the bit saved for desserts will make me dribble
till, with regret, feel as if i ate horse!
so, tell me, valentine, for whom i yearn,
are these love-pangs or simply old heartburn?