VOICES OF LOVE: A Poem of Many Poems

By: Shanshan Posted on: February 25, 2011

BEIRDD: Forsake the swelling millstone of desire!
Twas better for Her not to love at all.
Presuming in His frost bit trinket shire,
Thy Bard enslaved Her in His wint'ry thrall.
For who could not conceive this toothsome town,
Fair Caer Witrin spun from Scarlatti's hand,
Must for Selene a cunning trap lay down,
A siren song Her Love could not withstand.
Bring forth Your archers and Your perfumed fur,
Your artisans and poisoned beauteous buds!
This dusted mountain paradise, for Her
A certain death, as sure as fire and floods.
Reject His snow white rose, O sweet Selene!
This cold sarcophagus above Cyrene!

SELENE: Sing! Bewitch Me with Your siren's song, My Lord.
Dance! Embrace Me twirling, lithe and blithe, My Lord!

BEIRDD: Love
Gracious, Flirtatious,
Unending, Befriending, Transcending,
Carefree, Magic, Comic, Tragic
Creating, Elating, Berating,
Fierce, Fickle
Art

SCARLATTI: This is all I ask of You, Selene, a small request:
Be Mine, dear heart, be Mine.

My song of Love unknown, revealed to Thee,
Shall surely feed Your pale flesh
Till ruby stanzas, crimson verse, flow in Your veins.

Your barest nod, Your fleeting acquiescence
Will still the ache of My heart,
For You will be mine.

My heart, I say again, be mine.

SELENE You sing as I command, and dance as I beseech.
Who belongs to Whom?
And yet Your heart, I am.

BEIRDD: Bewitched and sickened by engagement's bond,
Selene swooned low on Lord Scarlatti's arm.
Distressed, dismayed, as She would not respond,
Still utt'ring love, the source of Beauty's harm,
Cried out, did He:
SCARLATTI: No reason in this rhyme!
BEIRDD: Beloved and Scarlattans watched spellbound.
This Bardic Lord watched o'er His love sublime.
Soon did the golden voice of Sol resound:
MITHRAEA: Twin fates lie here, Her ashen cheek so still.
Sweet sorrow waits, O Bardic Lord, decide:
Her essence sapped to love just by Your will,
To save Your love, Your love must leave Your side.
SCARLATTI: Be gone! You say. And so I will. Selene...
SELENE: I thought I lived a nightmare...dreamt a dream...

BELOVED: Arise! Freed from Your sickened slumber, our Lady.
MITRAS: Accused! Your fabrications rankle, O Lady.

SELENE: Low mortals, the sunlight
I curse with My scorn,
Your Mother a traitor,
Our friendship now torn.
Pretence and pretension
Marked every last word,
Her concern for My welfare,
Mere treachery, I've heard.
Whisp'ring ploys and positionings
In Scarlatti's ear,
She taught wiles of courtship,
She twisted My Dear,
Till His amorous sonnet
Rang harsh in the air,
Cursing Me with a ruinous Love.

Bounty, benevolence,
Cast in His way,
The baubles that Mithraea
Brought into play,
Were weapons and witch'ry
In Her wicked scheme,
Which He faithfully gave Me;
A familiar theme.
For when dreamtime's malaise
Crept unbid o'er My brow,
'Twas your Mother who hastened
To break Our love's vow;
Her scheming's fruition.
Yet you disavow!
Nursing Me with a treacherous Love.

What proof, you dare ask Me?
I lay at your feet
My love with Lord Lupus,
A trouble free feat.
Like wolves of His care,
For life We are two,
A primitive mateship,
That None might eschew.
So if fever free courtship
Lasts with the Wild God,
Who is She to relieve Me
Of Scarlatti's ballade?
Jealous was She of Me,
As I fell at His nod,
Blessing Me with a jubilant Love.

KATIA: An assortment of hells
Would be quite apropos
For the Pretty One's fate,
Aye, consign Her down low!
Introverted, blind beauty,
Selfishness untoward.
The world lost its Song,
His children, their Lord;
Yet this Trifle of Orestis,
Blind to the true loss,
Clinging to Her ill nature;
Nought but sparkling dross,
Rears Her hideous visage
And would Sol double cross,
Showing us Her capricious, cold Love.

Though Your memory is shadow
Of Caer Witrin's tale,
You deny His Dark Muse,
And her cheek would assail.
Nay You care nought for reason,
And care nought for truth,
And Your frivolous claims
Born of vengeance's sleuth.
Lay no blame on the Sun,
Yes, Your bleatings confine.
(Twas a mortal, not Mithraea,
Who poisoned Love's wine.)
Oh, my Chieftain! My Master!
Return to what's Thine!
Please remember Your children, their Love!

MITRAS: Entrapped beyond our realm, beyond our sight,
Your bravery is hollow in Her loss.
Await Her safe return, Her glorious light,
Then bring Your words of war, Your arms emboss.
Your brazen eyes are tainted with Your lust,
Your craven taste for dust of Mitran shrines.
Beloved! Haste make thee, for in disgust,
Her sanity unbends, Her mind declines.
BELOVED: That flaxen curl unwinding on Her cheek,
Tis all that of our Mother is undone.
Her brow is smooth, with calmness does She speak.
No madness lingers here, kin of the Sun.
SELENE: My darling children, sanity profess.
Beloved, wear My favour, I thee bless.

BEIRDD: Hush! The world below Your feet sways, our Lady.
For why else would the Goddess of Love bend with the wind?

Breaking bread with their allies,
Compassion they sought
As the Mitras considered
Their options most fraught.
Under threat of mad warfare
Concordia roused
To assist the Sun's children,
While Love madness housed.
SELENE: My Beloved, defile
As you choose and you please!
TARAH: My Sister, Your...tiredness,
Perhaps I might ease?
While Your Beauty's renowned,
There's a tinge of disease
Screaming vengeance instead of Your Love.

BEIRDD The Soul of Vundamere drew forth a rose,
Each lustrous petal argent, glowing warm.
Her wheedling words compelled Selene to close
A Divine bargain, gems for nature's form.
Drawn from the slender column of Her neck,
The Sun's own Amulet, the burden gone,
And while it brought Compassion to Her knees,
To see Selene released was nigh foregone.
Her voice becalmed Her children at the first,
Ten thousand screaming arias shed from mind,
And thus Scarlatti's lingering present cursed
Was finally shed, that twisted love behind.

O listener! Hear thee not each Loving voice?
Each birthed of fate, thus, Love, 'tis not a choice.