Well Ladies and Gents, here's a new 'Birth'.

I've had this title in my head for many, many months now. I believe the phrase, or something similar was in an old song, perhaps Tom Jones' lyrics?

Anyway, tonight after work I decided to start the actual poem and see where it would lead me. Here we are, four hours later, after mucho revisions. I usually reach a stage, where I print out the first draft, then re-read and edit the 'hard copy'. Then, I massaged it a little more, and printed the second draft. This, then is the third, and final draft.

Don't know whether youse guys use GOOGLE or not, but I LOVE IT! Any time I'm unsure of spelling, or getting the correct reference for a past mythological or historical word - I just punch it into GOOGLE, and Voila! they always have something.

As always, your thoughts, suggestions, and comments are, as my Dad always said: "Welcome as the flowers in May!"

OH - yeah - two completely different women, totally 'worlds' apart, provided the inspiration for the 'Amour' feelings. Hope you like it. Tom.

I Who Have Nothing...

Copyright: March 4, 2005 - Tom Hyland

 

All that I have matters not, without you!
And I exist, not really living.
Darling, I implore you, like the Sirens’ calls,
Forgive my misgiving.

Melt those cold, cold walls
Which keep us apart.
Harden not your heart!
Yes, I who have nothing... Adore you!

Yea, tho’ I may own the world,
All is for naught!
Lacking your honeyed lips,
In a tangled web am I caught.

Eros’ dart dip’t in sanguine fluid
My flesh is burn’t and rip’t.
I wander like an ancient Druid,
Yes, I who have nothing... Adore you!

Mercy! I beg and plea, in a voice arcane.
Is there no remnant of our lost Love?
My Dearest Maiden, hearken!
Hear my plebeian prayer from Above.

What once was, is no more!
Like a ghostly ship, adrift at sea,
I am cast from deadly reef to jagged shore.
Yes, I who have nothing... Adore you!

Tis’ said that Chivalry loves from afar,
Your aroma adorns my lance still.
Shall I not again revere your reverie
And savor your treasures, to my fill?

Surely, forgiveness abounds within you, or
Madam, Have I done you thus, so ill?
Ere Poe’s Raven echoes: "Never More, Never More!"
Yes, I who have nothing... Adore you!

‘Neath your bosom doth not Heaven yet throb?
Do not my tears taste of salt,
When e’er mine orbs do sob?
Mea culpa, mea culpa, my fault, my fault.

I’ve plied you with roses,
With petals so sweet,
And songs of Poesy, laid at your feet.
Yes, I who have nothing... Adore you!

My Cherie Amour, release these bonds,
Like Prometheus, let me be unbound!
Free my agonizing, captured Soul.
Inter it ‘neath the ground.

Or, with Icarus’ faulty wings, let
It soar to Phoebus, then plummet to the Sea.
Never More to Love and Adore, Alas! Finally Free!
Yes, I who have nothing... Adore you!