adventures in dysthymia

Monday, March 14, 2011

A POEM and a song:

For Fear

I will not love for fear I'd love too deeply
and in the depths of you might I then drown;
refusing any desperate hope of rescue,
I'd willingly let passion pull me down.

I will not love for fear I'd love too simply,
a fool who chooses without asking why,
and when abandoned, as I'd surely be,
left with no answers why love went awry.

I will not love for fear I'd love too little,
unworthy of the love I may be given;
a liar and a sinner, soon discovered,
and from your Paradise I would be driven.

I will not love for fear I'd love completely,
forgetting all I am, all I have been;
or is to lose, perhaps, to gain in love
and ever this the destiny of men?

I will not love for fear of love's unknowns,
the secret paths that lead me to your heart;
ways on which I can only wander, lost.
I will not love for fear; I'll live apart.

Stephen Brooke ©2011

A bit of old-fashioned versifying. Iambic pentameter, by golly. The idea was to make up a list of excuses for avoiding love...some of which perhaps have some validity? :) As ever, I'm quite aware that this sort of pastiche should not quite be taken seriously by either the author nor the reader. And, as ever, the stuff I post here is early draft (generally) and open to revision.

Red Cougar

Anne's Cougar was red,
made in '67;
Entered in
a race to heaven.
Faster than the boat
she'd been rowing toward God;
Got behind the wheel
to outrun her facade.

Anne's Cougar growled
of lies and truth,
Yearning for
the eyes of youth.
Gave up control
in the driver's seat;
Found no Mercy
along the street.

I'll drive away,
some other day,
in Anne's red Cougar.
Take my trip,
give time the slip,
in Anne's red Cougar.
Gun the motor,
breathe in deep;
Find no answers,
only sleep.
I'll drive away,
some sunny day,
in Anne's red Cougar.

Anne's poems were read,
discussed, dissected;
Some belittled,
some respected,
And some remember
Anne's Cougar was red --
Turned on the radio,
away she sped.

Stephen Brooke ©2011

This song (music in progress) is, fairly obviously, referring to Anne Sexton and her suicide. Definitely grew this one from my Punk roots and it would be played as such. It is not intended as a call for offing oneself!

But then, it does not condemn it either. People do what they do.

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