Beatrice

Here you can post YOUR OWN poems, prose, music, or art inspired by the 'Muses nine'.

Moderators: Saturn, Malia

Beatrice

Postby Saturn » Mon May 30, 2011 8:20 pm

Beatrice

Broken the words, dry is
the mouth, and the moist
Eyes strain to let my tears
Wash away this sharp pain.
Beatrice I see you even now
Wrapped in that other's arms,
Granting him that bright smile
And planting those deep kisses
My heart breaks to but imagine.

If courage, and hope were mine,
If despair and mildness held not
My hands, I'd hold back the tide,
Bid the winds fail and bring about
Almighty hell before I could bear
To see you turn around and leave.

Oh heart! can you bear the pain?
Oh eyes! can you ever be dry?
Oh hands! what use art thou?

Beatrice, my love you wave
At a man coming apart at the
Seams, unravelled with care,
Mad for thy love, blind and
Stumbling, with a wound and
Losing heart more each day.
______________
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
Saturn
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Re: Beatrice

Postby marwood » Mon Jun 06, 2011 1:55 pm

Good work as ever Saturn. The two poems seem linked somehow to me, are they?
This poem full of despair and sadness, read it when I was feeling a little fragile emotionally
so it tugged at my heart strings.
Take care.
Marwood.
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen.
marwood
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Re: Beatrice

Postby Saturn » Mon Jun 06, 2011 3:32 pm

The two poems are very much linked, as all my more personal poems are to one subject, this one also is partially inspired by Dante's la vita nuova and the poet's courtly love and obsession with his great unrequited love Beatrice.

If anyone hasn't read it, they should, and Petrarch's equally beautiful and tragic love sonnets to his believed Laura; both Dante's and Petrarch's love poems remain, for me the most inspiring and exquisitely, painfully heartbreaking love poems ever written, in any language.
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
Saturn
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Re: Beatrice

Postby jamiano » Mon Feb 06, 2012 1:22 am

As I read this poem, I recall the peaceful times; when Dante's words embraced the soul of night, when Milton 's words sustained me within the joy of day and when afternoon became lofty of romance by Keats' words.

I have been lost in "the catalogue of things." Thanks, Saturn. "Beatrice" inspires the tender within a tragic one.

peace to love,
jamiano
jamiano
 
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