The Princess Chronicles: VIII + +

[PrinceMyshkin]

Princess Chronicle I http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=27138
Princess Chronicle II http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=27189
Princess Chronicle III http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=27224
Princess Chronicle IV http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=27259
Princess Chronicle V http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=27299
Princess Chronicle VI http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=27338
Princess Chronicle VII http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=27410

Voi che sapete / che cosa è amour

The sea is our planet!
Our language is song!
Kum-ba-ya along with me,
let’s raise our voices
in a joyous Jesu, Joy of man’s desiring, or
We shall Overcome.

The world and men are as bad
as they have ever been
and getting worse
and as good as they have ever been
and getting better, and
we shall overcome.

The odds against us, darling,
do not grow less long, but
we shall overcome.

Impatience, insecurity, doubt
will attack us again
and again, from time to time,
but we shall overcome.

My longing for you is sometimes
so bad that I wonder...
What have we started here?
Did I have any idea
to begin with, that it would be
so lousy
and so beautiful, but

We shall Overcome.
We shall Overcome.
Oh, deep in my heart,
I do believe
We shall Overcome
Some day...

Dalla sua pace la mia dipende

[Niamh]

I've created links to all of the other seven Chronicles. If you could possibly post all comments here in this thread, and refere to which poem you are commenting on, it would be great! IE "P.C.I.... P.C.II etc
cheers!
Niamh
Other threads are now closed for posting with permission. Please post all comments here

[Sweets America]

This is one of my favorite ones, Lover! This is full of hope, and I believe that hope is the best thing to nourish our mind with when we face an uncertain future.


I will go on howling the song
For it bears the weight of our love
The weight of my soul
That has grown heavier

Because of your love
Because of my fears

― Because of your love ―
I wake up singing
Already
With my eyes still closed
And the sound of your voice
Reaches my ears
As you call my name

― Because of my fears ―
I look around,
Anxious
Barking out loud:
‘Where are you, Jerry?!’
‘Have I been abandoned?!’

But,
Like the dog that I am
I will wait for you
Patiently...
And when you’re back,
I’ll jump in your arms
And bark my relief in your ears

I know you’ll be back
Someday
I know you’ll sit next to me,
Invite me on your lap
And caress me gently
With the love
You are always ready to give

Then only,
I will rest my snout
On your reassuring hand
And fall asleep
Escaping in the dreams
Where you and I
Are never apart.

[PrinceMyshkin]

This is one of my favorite ones, Lover! This is full of hope, and I believe that hope is the best thing to nourish our mind with when we face an uncertain future.


I will go on howling the song
For it bears the weight of our love
The weight of my soul
That has grown heavier

Because of your love
Because of my fears

― Because of your love ―
I wake up singing
Already
With my eyes still closed
And the sound of your voice
Reaches my ears
As you call my name

― Because of my fears ―
I look around,
Anxious
Barking out loud:
‘Where are you, Jerry?!’
‘Have I been abandoned?!’

But,
Like the dog that I am
I will wait for you
Patiently...
And when you’re back,
I’ll jump in your arms
And bark my relief in your ears

I know you’ll be back
Someday
I know you’ll sit next to me,
Invite me on your lap
And caress me gently
With the love
You are always ready to give

Then only,
I will rest my snout
On your reassuring hand
And fall asleep
Escaping in the dreams
Where you and I
Are never apart.

Your poem sings to me,
to every part of me,
as does your voice,
your brave attempt
to make jokes!
(I see that humour
is a very young art
in France!) Your being,
our thing - which I no longer
strive to define
- is a mystery to me,
as is the preciousness
of consciousness itself!

[Sweets America]

My sick humor, Sweet Prince
Will always strike again!
Now I think
Your best humor
Is in your attempts
To speak French!
Do you realize
How funny it sounds
To your Sophie’s ears?

[PrinceMyshkin]

My sick humor, Sweet Prince
Will always strike again!
Now I think
Your best humor
Is in your attempts
To speak French!
Do you realize
How funny it sounds
To your Sophie’s ears?

That is how you repay me for my tenderness, my humble efforts to assure you that you are loved, cherished, admired? Well, who was it who should have said: "Insults are the efforts of a timid heart to speak of love!"

[Sweets America]

Eheh, yes. You do know that every word I say to you means 'I love you', right?

I feel all your tenderness in your French sentences, even when you call me 'salle type'.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Eheh, yes. You do know that every word I say to you means 'I love you', right?

Actually, no. I suspect that some of them mean I have a craving for some chocolate cake

I feel all your tenderness in your French sentences, even when you call me 'salle type'.

And salope?

[Sweets America]

I think the 'chocolate cake' can be a metaphor? Anyway...

Oh, I don't mind about salope, as long as you can be my old bastard.

[PrinceMyshkin]

What’s the story, Frenchie?
A little while ago you and I
found - or invented - each other
and I’ve sort of been holding my breath
ever since. But yesterday,
in Riviere des Prairies, not very far
from here, Francesca, 14,
living in a group home, was found
murdered in a park.
Some will call her murderer
“sick,” some will call him or her
evil.

I am thinking
there are filthy, murderous swine
around and among us
and none of us knows
where or on whom
one of them might land next.

And this, my love, my
tender angel, is the land
in which you and I attempt
only to love...

[Sweets America]

The story is the one of manhood
With its striking varieties.
In each one of us,
Dark impulses
Are laying next to purity;
Holding hands.
Our schizophrenic souls are never white or black.
Rainbows of colors are illuminating them
And making them go from the lightest to the darkest shades,
Which evolve in time.
Inside of your Princess...
Have cohabited the lover and the murderer.

Now my love,
You and I, with the pastel colors we draw our lives with,
Are making up for the blackness of the void in which
Some souls have lost themselves.

While the sick and the evil
Use their hands to remove life
We use ours to create it, to make art of it.
Touch my body, my Prince
As though it were a piece of pottery
Which you would bring alive
With your agile fingers...
And as it takes shape,
Let me hand to you
Some of its youth
Let me mold you
Till you become
The best of yourself
Let me turn you
Into the New Man
I allow you to be.
A Man who had been asleep in the core of your being.

See the whole of us
Don’t be afraid of
The dark sides...
And, if they ever take over for a while,
Be patient ―
For the tide of our love
Will wash them away
And make them lighter
Just as the sun brightens
The dark land
Every morning.

[PrinceMyshkin]

May I make love to this poem? Please?
May I take it slowly into my arms?
May I drink of it
as if it were the first cool water
after a long, lost sojourn in the Negev?

That's hyperbole, of course,
because often when I have thirsted
I found water here or there
and God knows you have been
like the greenest oasis
with the deepest pool
of fresh, abundant water!
You have been water
and meat, foie gras,
succulent greens,
the chocolate cake you love so much
and the deep, dark espresso
I love...

You have been manna
and abundance
and every time I protest
that I am full,
yuo tell me Wait! Wait!
There's more...

Just as the sun brightens
The dark land
Every morning.

[PrinceMyshkin]

The ‘stars’ are so hard-set
against us, not even God,
I fear, the arch astro-physicist,
could budge them
from their bitter course.
The year I was born your parents,
perhaps, had not yet been conceived!

They might have grown up
one degree away from what they did,
might have met and married others
and never have had you.
And I would know nothing of that,
would know only in the vaguest sense
that something was missing.

I might have tried to imagine a “Sophie,” but
would have called her “Miracle,”
“Unattainable Dream” or
“My born-gain Heart...”

But the stars are against us,
and there is no joy like the sadness
I feel in loving you,
no sadness like the joy
of loving you...

[Sweets America]

May I make love to this poem? Please?
May I take it slowly into my arms?
May I drink of it
as if it were the first cool water
after a long, lost sojourn in the Negev?

That's hyperbole, of course,
because often when I have thirsted
I found water here or there
and God knows you have been
like the greenest oasis
with the deepest pool
of fresh, abundant water!
You have been water
and meat, foie gras,
succulent greens,
the chocolate cake you love so much
and the deep, dark espresso
I love...

You have been manna
and abundance
and every time I protest
that I am full,
yuo tell me Wait! Wait!
There's more...

Just as the sun brightens
The dark land
Every morning.

Make love to this poem, Jerry,
― Please ―
Make love to each of its words
Kiss them, lick them, caress them...

Make them yours!

Entirely yours
From their first to their last letter.
Take each one of those letters
And form new words with them.
Shape them into our names,
Celebrate their sounds as you whisper
The delicate syllables of elation;
Drink them, let them run on your tongue,
Taste all of their subtle meanings and revelations.

And,
After you’ve made love to my poetry,
Let me ask you eagerly to Wait! Wait!
Because there will be more to savour
When your Cookie helps you with a part
Of her chocolate cake.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Make love to this poem, Jerry,
― Please ―
Make love to each of its words
Kiss them, lick them, caress them...

Make them yours!

Entirely yours
From their first to their last letter.
Take each one of those letters
And form new words with them.
Shape them into our names,
Celebrate their sounds as you whisper
The delicate syllables of elation;
Drink them, let them run on your tongue,
Taste all of their subtle meanings and revelations.

And,
After you’ve made love to my poetry,
Let me ask you eagerly to Wait! Wait!
Because there will be more to savour
When your Cookie helps you with a part
Of her chocolate cake.

We call it "love," but
it might be nothing more
than heightened friendship

just as the sun
might be nothing
but an over-ambitious candle.