Untitled

Untitled

A Poem by thebusch

What is love but practice preached? For does not love be true whence love hath end? Love is that which is taught to burn like hell's fire, a fire not end true to yearning and desire. Alas I have lust's piercing sword though thy amour. Woven by hand true to heart; protecting not flesh but thou sword from dishonour.

Is then love's fickle fruit but a longing for taste? That turns sour in thy hands and thy heart that's condemning the haste. Or is love a slave to fantasy? Am I shackled to a tragedy yet so blinded by hope I call it free? Or do I not know love as I do not know thy self? I cry thirst as I stare unto myself in a chalice of truth. And whence the time I have drunken dry I am blinded to myself. That love is in sight once passion be.

Am I just worthless until my heart learns true? Or hath thy quest for solace burdened eyes and bid my whole adieu?

© 2013 thebusch


Author's Note

thebusch
I don't usually write in this style. Let me know what you think of it!

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

101 Views
Added on June 3, 2013
Last Updated on June 3, 2013
Tags: Love

Author

thebusch
thebusch

Australia



About
Starting out on my imaginative exploits more..

Writing
Love thy son Love thy son

A Story by thebusch


Captain Captain

A Story by thebusch