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    AC Benus
  • AC Benus
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  • 04/16/2018
  • 268 Words
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

A Man in a Room, and other poems - 25. favorite dish

.

Poem No. 69

 

To write of her, is to insult her

words work out that way

to think of her

means there is simply, too much to say

 

A jail of adjectives

cannot contain her face

a prison of pronouns

is weaker than spun lace

 

The worst squalor of all, is the oppression

of two damnations

to press her onto paper, is mere obsession.

Her image doesn't deserve such repression.

 

 

 

Poem No. 70

 

Prelude:

 

They work together

in ways unseen

 

to strike and dash the dreams

of paupers and queens

 

through thick and thin

their meal is rich

 

though misery is

their favorite dish.

 

 

Poem:

 

Beauty and beast,

sweet child of life,

your fate is sown.

 

Creature of life,

you feel your happiness gone;

the will to fight,

lost to his mournful song.

Beauty and beast.

 

Swaying to the rhythm

of his frightful waltz,

she lets herself give way,

and knows for it she longs.

 

Faster and faster in dizzying speed she turns,

she wants to touch him, wants to be him,

but is frightened by her yearns.

Now she knows that love is hate,

so that dreams can be real.

Without the other the one is fake; without him

she can never feel.

She needs him more than her simple life;

without fear he is more than reason,

he is the means of strife.

 

Beauty and beast,

sweet creatures of life;

beauty in death,

she sees herself,

one with him, to be free.

 

_

  

Copyright © 2017 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Parker Owens

Poem 69 has so many interesting images - a prison of pronouns, weaker than spun lace: brilliant. 

 

Poem 70 expresses for me the deep hurt that accompanies impossible longing. I hope the poet did not experience that pain overmuch; it is hard to bear. 

 

 

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AC Benus
12 hours ago, Parker Owens said:

Poem 69 has so many interesting images - a prison of pronouns, weaker than spun lace: brilliant. 

 

Poem 70 expresses for me the deep hurt that accompanies impossible longing. I hope the poet did not experience that pain overmuch; it is hard to bear. 

 

 

Thanks for sharing your thoughts, dear friend. They are always appreciated.

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AC Benus

@Parker Owens I've come to the finial few loose-leaf pages of my early poetry folder, and have found quite a few that were missing. I'll have to update Early Poems and My Twentieth Year with the items I've missed. I'll place more info on Live-Poets Society ;)     

 

12 hours ago, Parker Owens said:

I hope the poet did not experience that pain overmuch

As for this concern, at least one poem I've newly discovered cannot allay your fears...

 

If I could burn my soul,

all that it means to me

 

If my spirit were made of paper

and evil said its lines

 

In fire could I be born

into new life

 

Free from pain,

and free from strife.

 

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