The Votarist

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The Votarist

Postby Saturn » Tue May 08, 2007 10:41 am

This is somewhat of a companion piece to an old poem I wrote called Summoned by the goddess which you can find on a previous page. This is somewhat different in tone.

The Votarist

To love is to give
I know that truth;
To you I offer all:
A solemn votarist.
Offerings I make
Though I know
Poor they be.

I'm bent-double,
Bowed in prayer,
Impoverished by
Heavy donations.
Yet all I can give,
All that I can vow
Is never enough.

No priest to guide,
Nor book to teach
The correct path.
Yet blind I lead,
A congregation,
With missionary,
Evangelical zeal.

Your cult I tend
With such care
Life else seems
Sinful and low.
This is pure and
Hallowed, my
Only vocation.

Nor false idol,
Gaudy gold calf,
Or marbled deity
Commands me.
No idol arcane
Has my belief,
Feeds my soul.

No infallibility
Is ever possible,
Even from one
That I serve.
Perfection? Ha!
That way lies
Rash insensibility.

I worship you
I bow to you,
Despite of fault
Because of fault.
Defective maiden
A poor disciple
Serves your heart.
_________
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby AsphodelElysium » Wed May 09, 2007 11:19 am

Love, love, love this:

Your cult I tend
With such care
Life else seems
Sinful and low.
This is pure and
Hallowed, my
Only vocation.



I'm curious why you chose to captialize Hallowed or was it just the formatting on the computer? I didn't know if it was meant to have special significance or not.
"Let me not wander in a barren dream,
But, when I am consumed in the fire,
Give me new Phoenix wings to fly at my desire."
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Postby Saturn » Thu May 10, 2007 9:44 am

No special significance, all the lines have their first word capitalised.

Thanks for the kind words :P
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby dks » Fri May 11, 2007 6:15 pm

Oh...yes...how breathlessly gorgeous--what a profession of love...*swoons* :!:

These are hard hitting to me:

No priest to guide,
Nor book to teach
The correct path.
Yet blind I lead,
A congregation,
With missionary,
Evangelical zeal.

Your cult I tend
With such care
Life else seems
Sinful and low.
This is pure and
Hallowed, my
Only vocation.


And, I agree with AE, these lines are brilliant with regard to tying up the extended metaphor with a whisper of pure beauty:

I worship you
I bow to you,
Despite of fault
Because of fault.
Defective maiden
A poor disciple
Serves your heart.


This poem remined me, for some reason, of that unbelievable scene in The Boxer--where Danny Flynn is holding Maggie and he says, "You still have it." She whispers, "What?" He says into her ear, "My soul." :shock: :(
"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections and the Truth of Imagination."
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Postby Saturn » Fri May 11, 2007 9:49 pm

The lady doth praise too much but I am quite proud of the last stanza if I say so myself :P
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby AsphodelElysium » Sun May 13, 2007 5:31 am

You're welcome. :)
"Let me not wander in a barren dream,
But, when I am consumed in the fire,
Give me new Phoenix wings to fly at my desire."
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AsphodelElysium
Calidore
 
Posts: 353
Joined: Sat Mar 31, 2007 2:58 am
Location: Virginia


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