I stand in awe…
Once again my beloved has taken my simple words and used them to make a beautiful sonnet. We often sit and talk of how my childhood saturation in the humanities spurred him to study poetry to understand my world. Now the shoe is on the other neuron and my illness has affected my brain to the extent that, while I appreciate his poetry, I am unable to critically address his work and discuss the various delights of rhyme scheme and sonnet form. This grieves me terribly. This would be a much worse burden but for the modern wonder of the internet where he has people from all over the world to share the nuts and bolts of poetry creation with. From a copper merchant traveling the world to a physicist in Sweden, there are people finding time to make poetry and share it with each other. This eases my soul – for somehow I can’t help but feel a touch of sorrow and a hint of guilt that I am unable keep up.
On the other hand, I do get away with having Mad Punctuation Disease so I get to use punctuation in any ol’ way I want and no one can say anything. Hah@!!
I also don’t have to do dishes when I’m tired.
By any song, in night, that dost thou sing,
If with thy lips shalt sing, my dearest one;
Or make to sing my soul, thy touch doth bring;
Or strong thine arms surroundeth, sing my heart.
And when doth sing thy smile, to heal, to rest;
And sing to fret the tyme away, undone
By song; yet still the finer am I blest
By music, by thy words, and by thine art.
But only thus, thy song shouldst bid me sleep–
Thy song, my shelter, sweep away the sun,
I beg of thee thy promised song, and weep
That shouldst thou hold mee fast, and ne’r us part
Until thy quiet fight–when hast thou won–
Requite the day, that thou expressed: Depart!