Napowrimo 2014 Day 7
"Today’s prompt is to write a love poem . . . but the object of the poem should be inanimate. You can write a love poem to your favorite pen, the teddy bear you had as a child (and maybe still have), or anything else, so long as it’s not alive! Happy writing." (from the Napowrimo 2014 website)
I write one, recitation of facts about a book--nope, 'doesn't work. Another few lines spout drivel about a flower--but is a flower on a par with 'inanimate object'? (not that it ultimately matters; but a writer's gotta write what a writer's gotta write...) Finally, as I rise the next morning, this comes to me, all in a rush. A true love I'll return to again and again... Read on.
My One True Love
Let me now sing the praises of my love,
confident no substitute can be had,
my constant comfort, my constant joy,
oasis of calm in a world gone mad.
I repair to thee midst the heat of the day.
Weary or exhilirated, I'll receive your embrace,
willingly submit to the magic of your ways.
Nowhere else do I find so precious a place
To sink in the luxury of your arms--
no need for talk, so sweet your charms.
I may have to leave, dear, though I would stay.
I'll return to you at the end of day,
Return to my one true love,..
my bed.
--Shirley Smith Franklin
"Today’s prompt is to write a love poem . . . but the object of the poem should be inanimate. You can write a love poem to your favorite pen, the teddy bear you had as a child (and maybe still have), or anything else, so long as it’s not alive! Happy writing." (from the Napowrimo 2014 website)
I write one, recitation of facts about a book--nope, 'doesn't work. Another few lines spout drivel about a flower--but is a flower on a par with 'inanimate object'? (not that it ultimately matters; but a writer's gotta write what a writer's gotta write...) Finally, as I rise the next morning, this comes to me, all in a rush. A true love I'll return to again and again... Read on.
My One True Love
Let me now sing the praises of my love,
confident no substitute can be had,
my constant comfort, my constant joy,
oasis of calm in a world gone mad.
I repair to thee midst the heat of the day.
Weary or exhilirated, I'll receive your embrace,
willingly submit to the magic of your ways.
Nowhere else do I find so precious a place
To sink in the luxury of your arms--
no need for talk, so sweet your charms.
I plight thee my troth: Let it be said
all else uttered and done, I love my bed.I may have to leave, dear, though I would stay.
I'll return to you at the end of day,
Return to my one true love,..
my bed.
--Shirley Smith Franklin
No comments:
Post a Comment