Christopher John Brennan
Christopher John Brennan Poems
|41.||The Pangs That Guard The Gates Of Joy||1/1/2004|
|42.||Iii. The Shadow Of Lilith||3/1/2010|
|45.||How Old Is My Heart, How Old?||3/1/2010|
|46.||I Said, This Misery Must End||1/1/2004|
|47.||I Am Driven Everywhere From A Clinging Home||3/1/2010|
|48.||I Am Shut Out Of Mine Own Heart||1/1/2004|
|49.||Fire In The Heavens||1/1/2004|
|50.||Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her||1/1/2004|
Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her
If questioning would make us wise
No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;
If all our tale were told in speech
No mouths would wander each to each.
Were spirits free from mortal mesh
And love not bound in hearts of flesh
No aching breasts would yearn to meet
And find their ecstasy complete.
For who is there that lives and knows
The secret powers by which he grows?
Were knowledge all, what were our need
To thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?
Then seek not, sweet, the "If" and "Why"
I love you now until I die.
For I must love because I ...
The Yellow Gas
The yellow gas is fired from street to street
past rows of heartless homes and hearths unlit,
dead churches, and the unending pavement beat
by crowds - say rather, haggard shades that flit
round nightly haunts of their delusive dream,
where'er our paradisal instinct starves: -
till on the utmost post, its sinuous gleam
crawls in the oily water of the wharves;