Requited not

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Apologies for the lacklustre piece I am posting here, I am a little ‘ring-rusty’ after my muse abandoned me for several months and I had a bad case of The Block. Please bear with me whilst I scrape off the rust, dust away the cobwebs and get my mojo back and powered up.
Normal service will be resumed shortly ..

Requited not

Think of the Love that is requited not,
The Love that is ignored or worse, rebuffed,
So, when at night, you’re lying in your cot,
Your cherished dreams are like a candle snuffed,

Think of the tree that makes a gift of leaves
To nourish and protect the earth beneath,
And then capricious wind the earth bereaves,
By scattering what lovelorn tree’d bequeath’d,
A Love like this lies buried in my chest,
Forgotten by the one who lit its fuse,
It flutters like a new chick in its nest,
Because my dear, You’re still the one I’d choose,
So spare a thought for what lives in my heart,
The target of Cupid’s apropos dart.



© 2016 Martin Graham King

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Thou art the Poetry

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Thou art the Poetry that lives in me,
The Muse that fills my Heart and Soul with fire,
Passion, desire and Love: Thee dost free
My creativity and urge me higher
Than I have e’er reachéd before, Thou art
My rhythm, my rhyme, Thou art the reason
I put quill to parchment, Thou art my art,
My Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter season,
Thou art the Red blood that flows in my veins,
Thou art every single breath that I take,
Though my words tumble forth in tangled skeins,
Before Thee now this promise I shalt make,
Though my sinews weaken, though my heart aches,
I shall wait for Thee, howe’er long it takes.

~O~

Sonnet: Martin G. King © May 27, 2014
Image sourced on Google Images (all rights remain with the creator)

 

Soliloquy 1

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Soliloquy 1

Is it better to have loved and lost,
Than never to have loved at all?
To have loved is to have reached
The highest a man may reach within
His span upon this, God’s greensward.
To have not is to never have known
That Paradise is to be found within
The arms and heart of Thy Beloved,
But this knowledge is no benison
To me whose One True Love now lies
Beyond my reach, lost to the comforts
Of another’s touch, all that remains
For this poor wretch is the coldness
Of the hearth upon my return from my
Sojourn through the world, the only light
And heat the candle of Hope I light daily
In Thy sweet name, that I tend with the care
I wouldst tend upon Thee were Thee
Here next to me. Should I wait? I can
Do no other if my Love is True,
And True it is and strong, for Thou
Art a part of me my Beloved C_____,
I wish to reach my greatest heights once more,
For that I need Thee stood here at my side,
But there are things I must struggle not to wish,
For I wouldst not wish upon Thee pain,
Just so Thee wouldst be free to be with this
Man who Loves Thee with every fibre
Of his being. My Muse, my Love, Thy
Happiness is all I seek, even should that
Cause me hurt I wouldst gladly, and with joy,
Water the tree of Thy content with my tears,
My sufferage a bargain price to pay,
For Thee to blossom.

~O~

Soliloquy by Martin G. King © May 10, 2014
Image sourced on Google Images (all rights remain with the creator)

Red, Rose.

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This English Rose that haunts my waking dreams
With thoughts of luscious lips and how they taste,
of kisses tenderly and gently placed
Upon Thy lips and then where else Thee deems,
As feminine as e’er or so it seems,
Therefore Milady Rose resist the haste,
To give free of Thy virtues oh so chaste,
For inside thee the Female Goddess gleams.
Rose of the West release Your smile so fair,
Let happiness shine from thy tawny eyes,
And let this Poet kiss thy freckled nose,
Release thy laughter high into the air,
And with it let thy inner spirit rise,
You’re Beautiful from Head down to Your Toes.

~O~

Petrarchan Sonnet: Martin G. King
Image sourced from Google Images

 

Sonnet 17

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I cannot stop the screaming deep inside,
You know in me a Poets Heart does beat…
That isn’t just a soulless lump of meat
I served to You still raw and warm, now fried
and burnt and torn and scarred and sorely tried
and charred to cinders on Rejections heat.
A part of me has died due to this feat,
this careless, thoughtless act. I cannot hide
behind a wall of silence any more,
the beauty You inspired in me is now
alike unto a whisper on the wind.
I’ll pour myself in this abyss no more,
this grieving that I feel I’ll not allow
to live in me, so You I now exscind.

~O~

© 2014 Martin G. King
Image sourced from Google Images

These tears

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These tears,
that fall unfettered,
freed by loss,
salty tears
not bitter, never bitter.

These tears,
I cry for You,
for what was,
for what could have been,
for what never shall be.

These tears,
catharsis
for my aching heart
bruised, but not quite
torn apart.

These tears,
slowly… slowly…
washing away
the pain of Your
absence.

~O~

Words: Martin G. King
Image: Creator unknown (Google sourced)