You HAVE My Heart!
What is this famous technigue that through lies the Poet leads his or her readers closer to the truth?
Some call it a technique of powerful persuasion - in say politics - but in poetry we see it more as sweet talking a lover.
We all know what exaggeration is and how it fails when it is over the fence.
Let's see how the poet uses the technigue in the following sonnets.
If I should miss some sign of love for me -
Think like most men there was nothing hinted,
Gloss over gold, more pleased paper to see,
Once, twice, three times missed - sweet things presented
Then forgive me, I will learn from each one -
More alert I'll be because I love you!
I daydream thinking things like how the sun
Catches your hair wishing to own eyes too
And play upon what's hidden from men's eyes -
Had some substance and not just warmth of day.
Yes I'm the sun with limits, and not wise
And miss a word, a smile till touched some way.
If I should miss some sign of love my dear
Catch my eye, and owning gold, I will hear.
'Gloss over gold'? oh what an exaggeration, oh what a lie that the Poet or any man would do such a thing. How does it lead us to the truth? The Poet in future we can see will be less likely to miss any sign of love from his love. So the exaggeration is forgivable - it serves a purpose. The Poet's lover should be much impressed.
Sit in my lounge, have coffee with me,
Talk, smile and laugh, know your eyes have won mine.
Every curve, every movement of lips see
My every manly asset look for the sign
It's time to take you where I dream wild dreams,
Not just for romance and my wicked will
To astound the world while poetry's pen beams
But show future's prospects - povety kill
Though making love, making poetry sell well,
Raising blood flow to the creative mind
Thrilling every nerve thrillable and tell,
Could well play a part in the fame we'll find.
Sit in my lounge, flash your eyes, firm the bond
That golds words read, written with waved love's wand.
'Poverty kill'? that's over exaggeration. He could have said make some money, make lots of money even, but poverty suggests the lot of thousands upon thousands not one poet.
It's a lie! - and through the lie the Poet puts pressure on making love (a good move of the Poet, but it is only in fun)
and his lover will benefit from his wealth and fame since she is the central figure of his mammoth work.
The truth is it is a ploy to get her into bed.
Harmless enough and all in fun.
Touched fifty trees that smiled down as I walked
The same river walk we'll walk when you're here -
Come touch smooth bark of gum and elm who've talked
Though dear lovers have heard not and trees tear.
Hold leaf and bud, feel love like twice before
In your Garden of Eden way over there.
We must touch and talk to the long grass more
For its life's short and our love's long though rare
But bound in the earth knows Nature's thinking,
Can teach rhythms the ancients made pleasure,
Show secrets the wind knows, driving, bending -
Summer's coming, let's the long grass measure.
Touched fifty trees that smiled down well pleased,
The same trees we'll meet when union we've seized.
'Talk to the long grass'? Is madness or a lie. What possible truth could it be leading us to think about?
It is pointing to the fact that Nature and things of Nature last longer than us - can impart to us something of importance.
Lovers lying in the long grass are not just lying in the long grass.
If all I've seen there was nothing else more,
There's been ample for most men's happiness.
The moon rates high but blue, gold or white's poor
If eyes never saw your limbs move your dress.
The moon half and white, tonight in your eyes
Could be the sole moon seen in skies for me;
In my arms now my mind could forget skies;
With your song in my ears and eyes lips see
I'd trade for the sun's summer, the stars shine,
And then winter with you night after night -
If you'd kiss me tonight and be mine.
Tomorrow would do! next week? next month might.
If all I've seen there was nothing else more
Flesh would weep and poetry would be a chore.
You 'In my arms my mind now could forget skies' is an over exaggeration, in fact a lie but it is a sweet way to tell one we love how much they mean to us - the truth is an aweful lot.
Know that this moment in time there's one soul
Who like yours loves your talent with thoughts sweet
And sees skilled hand smoothly astound eyes all,
Can value building block and building's feat,
Will never say change this or that for art.
As you work I watch all of you create
From home here nights; two spirits not apart.
With wonder I feel you breathe; dreams awake.
Desires for you don't make me falsely claim
Fame will favour your sweet flowering fortune
Though I do wish when you retire to reign
Master of your bed full moon to full moon.
As moments fly more will love your work as I
But none spirited as my master eye.
'I feel you breathe' is a lie say some, who only think flesh is real not spirit. So the Poet challenges the lie theory but all the same the Poet feels in spirit as close as flesh to his love - which increases the pulse rate of his love.
While alone I call upon smiles you've smiled
And not my heart alone smiles at the thought.
While eyes dwell on your thinking smile's child
They guess at the games played and the fun sought;
Hands rub together knowing they're treasured
And that part of the smile's sparkle is theirs;
Lips and tongue together in silence have measured
Their large portion of smile's glow each cheek bears
And he that is small but at the call large
Knows full well that all he can claim as his
If heart with his pen hadn't penned he's in charge
Beating out his passioned poems of sheer bliss.
I gather up all your meant smiles for me
And share with all of me the ecstasy.
Lie! lie! lie! says the unpoetic soul. Sweet talk that's very effective, smiles the Poet.
Women of the world who among you dwell
With more honour than the lady praised here?
A thousand paintings of her beauty tell,
Painted by a dull hand that used to sneer -
Praise! but not the painter - his painting's poor
Though his first to last turned his hand to gold -
Smiles lit the canvass, her thoughts even more,
Her curves taught hand form, breasts made hand's strokes bold -
His fingers grew fine, heart and eyes softened -
Painting in words, master poet became.
Women of the world he will paint till the end
For her beauty's full capture is his aim.
Such women are rare, even in history -
Rare the hands that smile so penning poetry.
There is a danger that exaggeration can fail to have the effect that's desired. The Lady could dismiss the poem as not moving her. Too exaggerated or hidden motives of lust undermine love. The Poet's credibility of 1,000 sonnets carries much weight that he is in love (and turned his hand to gold).
Why is my verse so lively yet love's slow
For there's no close dance nor kiss chance tonight?
There's something in the air that moves me so
As though lips promise movement's sheer delight -
For if the rains come, sweet's the summer sun
And if the full moon's not clouded over
Then the touch-thoughts I have tonight will run
With winged speed to where flesh lives in clover.
Lips smile from the heart with special gifts
For special times call for special toasts made.
Oh lips you pleasure and the cold cloud lifts -
Frown and groan tonight can't both strength parade.
So as one day's dull and another's bright
My pleasured love tonight tells what's in sight.
Besides measuring the effectiveness of what is said by waiting for the Lady's response or the responses of the readers surely there's another measure?
If 'Oh lips you pleasure and the cold cloud lifts' has its meaning eclipsed by the exaggeration - if the exaggeration takes over from the meaning then it surely fails.
The Poet could write many many pages of prose on the promise of lips - (its meaning can never be eclipsed).
The owl watched the Princess walk with pure grace
'Neath The Tree Of Love And All That's Deserved
And planned to win both heart and beauty's face.
He asked green grass tickle so toes smiles served,
Called blossoms to fall and land in her hair,
Gentle wind gust to raise her eyes to him
And with a wink flew to her shoulder bare
And when she sat, between her legs with a grin.
He made the sunset royal red for her,
The moon more silver than the stars smiling.
The Princess quoted prophesy, to infer
Soon a wise poet she would be marrying.
The owl watched the Princess walk with new step -
He knew she knew where paradise was kept.
Now you understand the valuable technigue the Poet can use and can answer those who say cruelly 'Lies, lies, lies!' by showing the truth we come closer to knowing or believing - plus having a measure of the technigue - the last 4 sonnets are yours to savour - yours to be caught up in the romantic persuasion.
What passion I wish to pass through touching
And you will be the poesy passion wills.
If words are just words, kissing's just kissing
But you raise up high mountains out of hills,
Inspire beauty from a poor painter's brush.
If the rhyme's guessed then where's passion's surprise?
But to the poet curves, shapes, colours, words hush -
Thoughts, feelings, moans, join the praise of the eyes.
Where are the words that capture the rapture?
I'm so hungry tonight possums in trees
Would flee sound's ecstasy pure we'd endure
And neighbours and pets in their tracks would freeze.
What passion I wish to pass through touching
And your passion would pass all words could bring.
Oh Blackboy Rose named after desert plants
That would make Freud chuckle - perhaps or no?
Your incense I use along with love chants
To bring things one needs, fast indeed you show.
'Oh Blackboy Rose give signs to my love now
That though I'm here she knows this pen's writing
Of love, with love, in love this very hour.
I've need of her kiss, kind Nature signing
Then, oh I've real need of a real kiss.
Oh Blackboy Rose your power you have shown me
In little things - have you power for sweet bliss?
But if Nature brings things, know I'm happy!
Oh Blackboy Rose you know my need, be kind -
Show gentle men can have, with gentle mind.'
It was midnight - our Lady was in bed
Sleeping, as her lover's spirit peered in
Opening the door with noise to wake the dead.
She did not stir and through an opening thin
He crept and lit candles she had left.
'I will leave these alight to prove I've been.'
Our knowing Lady 'woke from sleep's warm breast
(We are sure that she had peeked and seen).
He sat on her bed and said, dressed in robes
'I see beauty though hidden from me;
The curves in nature, waves, moon, my eye probes
But your beauty out curves them my Lady.'
'Twas past midnight - our lovers were in bed,
The candles went out but we're not misled.
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