Monday, March 26, 2012

Womanly Guile

Emotion begone; I will find you, anon!

Come when I've use for your unheard talents.

I say again away! Trouble conscience

No more with your mute looks of steal; were

It not for your father's sake I'd break that

Heart of steal just to prove that I am

No more a man of poetry than Leer

A peasant. Why do you stare into my

eyes of hate? As though your thoughts could keep

At bay my hearts intents, sway my very

Core, as though to gain all control; nay, such

A thing is not at all good! Therefore be

Gone with you, lest I should send you packing!

Why did you ever come so near as this?

Why did you not fear my evil designs?

Why should you come to hear my hiss,

To overcome such tears with rhymes?

There are those more fitted for lovers,

Loves that would take you up into heavens

Blissful shade, shall I turn on what I am?

Shall I be turned from Benedict's wrathful

Warlike behavior for the likes of you?

No! For though the world must be peopled, I

Shall not partake in such practice. It is,

After all, a barbaric practice of

Men, often taken by an act of force,
No such thing will I do to you! Although

Your voice is soft, and your skin fair, your eyes

Do alight upon my words as though they

Held life itself; But perhaps that is mere

Jealousy, the desire to usurp

My words as your own: is that not how all

Women gain voice in the world, through the hearts
Of men turned flat and stale by the mush

Of lovers quarrels. Do not stare so much

As this: I'll admit you fair as any

Maid in all the land if you but leave me

Here, alone to stand. Now for your smile,

Yes you must boast of your triumph, that I,

A monster and tyrant stooped to pick up

Words of fancy for a silly mute. Yet,

Why is it now that for a moment, oh,
That silly look, my fun foe fancy fop,

Became a star upon your brow; progress

You would say, for after all, I admit,

That up until a moment past noon I thought

That you were nothing more than a common

Toad, someone loathsome, just a load of dung

Heaped in my way by the gatekeeper, a  mere

Prank; for some old injury no doubt! Ha!

Your father's doing I suppose for debts to

Numerous and untold. His merciful

Hand has strings no doubt, you and a ring! Still,

You are still the little maid I took you

For when we first met, I think, I'm sure. Yet

Strangely now I see someone quite different

In front of me. Were you not the same as

Before, just ten minutes ago? How then

Do you account for this transformation,

This heinous act of womanly guile

By which you have accomplished this strange feat?

No doubt meant to steal my heart from me, well!

See if you can, for I'll steel my heart so

Strongly against such petty perfumes of

Love that you'll think I have some bottom, and!

So grow bored of my lacking mystery!

Why do you insist? Have you no other

Tasks that you sit here at my feet, your eyes

Stuck on mine like nails to the hoof of some

Horse shoe? Now look what you've done, I now speak

In babble about anything just to

Convince you that I do not, in plain speech,

I do not love you! Or do you find me

Not convincing that you should feign a frown,

I know that is a smile in disguise,

I hate such painted looks and I despise

What they impose on spiteful heart! I

Am now tired with excuses; so,

If you'll just leave my babbling head here,

Come back in half an hour to find me dead,

Mourn over me and allow my spirit

Peace of mind so we can be done with it

All, I would forever be in your debt!

Oh will not be fooled by such a show

Of protest that you must make fun of me

And jest at my expression? Next I know

You'll tell me of how my hair is not combed,

You'll scorn my yellow teeth, throw sot like words

Upon my face to make further fun of me,

Still I will not be move to be so blind

As he that is in love, how unkind do you

Think me? Shall I lie to you? Break you down

With words uncouth? Must I beat you away

With a stick? Or will a sling made from the

Depths of the woods, the likes which King David

Was known to use when he defeated the

Giant Goliath, will this and a sone

Do to keep you away from me? By Jove,

Like the tide that does not stop, flows again

And again over the shores with raging

Tenacity, driven by the moon's great

Invisible ray of power, like this

Powerful mysterious force does she

Rage over my dispositions! I am

Like the sand on the shore, pushed about for

Ever more by the tides rhythmic beating;

So great is this woman's persistence.  Well,

Then by all the powers that be perhaps

I have finally found my  match. One who

Will not be tamed by insults; injury

Of great disdain could not keep her back, nor

Threat of beating; if she believed my words,

For I could never beat a woman  in

All of my life for fear I should rue the

Day. Then if this all be true as is, I

May accept her hand. As she does live

I'll abjure from vice, to live in her comp

Any; provided mice be not at home,

Else we shall have excuse for a cat, no

Cats!  But I see even small jests do now

Make her impatient; all right! I relent!

Lean in upon me my love; fish eggs! How

Can it be that with such ease you have so

Penetrated my heart of steal? How can

You see through our bitter start to a new

Life of love and bliss? You shake your head as

Though to say it were a mystery, sure.

That I should trade discontentment for a kiss

Is surely the strangest thing I've done. Yet,

Shall we men fight on the battle field of

War, strike at our enemies until scores

Of them be dust at our feet and breathe air

No more, for the sake of living alone?

If that's what other men choose I suppose

I now see, why she did so pity me.

Womanly Guile, (C) Luke Bennette, 2012

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