Friday, September 01, 2006

So What Now?

Well, this is a little unexpected. Sat at work. Empty office.

3/4 of an hour to use with no interruptions. Don't panic, my post isn't that long.

Managed to get half an hour alone in here with... well with her. Her? I really can't call her 'Her'. That's crap, but anonymity should be retained of course. Hmm...something flattering, and amusing, possibly romantic too, (or erotic? No. Too weird). Definitley can't go with anything that's been used obviously.

So.....what?

Of course, it was staring me in the face all along.

Geneve.

It's a variety of her favourite flower. Perfect. Oh and my secret petname for her.

Yes, yes, I am a fucking daft hopeless, desperate romantic (probably should capitalise 'hopeless'). Even did something that I haven't done in years.

No, not that. Something far far worse.

I wrote a love poem.

Yes, that heinous crime against the rhyming art the love poem. Now I don't know much (anything) about poetry but I have read some of Oscar Wildes' and as far as I'm aware the general consensus is that he should've stuck to witty comments on the class structure in Victorian England. So probably not the best person to be basing my own then?

Ha! You're probably right but here it is anyway.

The Angel and the Man

The Angel came to the Man and to her he did say:
'Take my hand, my Geneve and we can run away.'

The Angel sadly shook her head and this was her reply:

'Our love is a forbidden thing that cannot ever be.
Our love it is a beacon light that none but us can see.
Our love it is a hidden path that only we can walk.
Our love it is a silent tongue that only we can talk.'

The Man cried out,
'It cannot be!
It cannot be this way.
Our love should be the midday sun,
On clear blue summer's day!'

The Angel fled but not before the man heard her reply:

'Our love is a forbidden thing that cannot ever be.
Our love it is a beacon light that none but us can see.
Our love it is a hidden path that only we can walk.
Our love it is a silent tongue that only we can talk.'

Onto his knees the Man did fall,
All hope now gone away.
No words would ever come to him,
His love had gone astray.

Then into his heart an angel's voice did sigh:

'Our love is a forbidden thing that cannot ever be.
Our love it is a beacon light that none but us can see.
Our love it is a hidden path that only we can walk.
Our love it is a silent tongue that only we can talk.'



Slate it if you want but Geneve fucking loved it so I'm really not going to give a toss about criticism on this.

Hopefully, see you soon.

2 Comments:

Blogger Danielle said...

:-O You let her read it? AWESOME B-) I haven't read a poem like that since American Literature. Write more! You have inspired me to go back and read more "Leaves of Grass". Thanks. Oh, and BTW... you're comment on Martian's site about bees having to work to survive kicked ass. HAHA!

12:54 am  
Anonymous cat said...

I loved your poem. It was everyting i desire in poetry.....an easy read and flow, gotta have flow. x

11:55 pm  

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