Love Letters Written To A Lady Of Renown (1-67) Poem by Captain Cur

Love Letters Written To A Lady Of Renown (1-67)

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The below series of poems are comprised of 67 love letters the Captain wrote his Queen. Exactly which Queen is still in dispute. Some letters are from the Queen either answering or instructing the Captain, for it would appear he did most of his pirating in her name, as to which she received a lion's share of the treasure. The pen name for the Queen is Loquacious, as most of the Captain's letters start with the lines, Dear Lady, Loquacious in your speech, or Lady Loquacious, for short. The letters were written over a period of years and vacillate between love, anger, and rejection as the Queen was not always responsive to the Captain's attentions. To help the reader navigate the body of work contained below, may I take the liberty to suggest certain poems which are titled and numbered. Libelous Methods (1) and Lady Of Loquacious Speech (2) are a good start because they set the tone for the body of the work. Coconspirator Of Love (10) and Raw Malkin Woman (30) are both brash and bawdy writes. Enlightenment Of The New World (17) and Capturing All Your Love (18) comparing their arrangement to a game of chess. Love's Eye (34) a gladiatorial bloodletting and Regal Tigress Delighted Purrs (44) . Some of the Captain's more inspired poems, I Compose You Totally (51) , Guide Me Toward Your Foreign World (54) , Fornicating In The Bowels Of Unswerving Reason (60) , and Contenting Love Once Copiously Poured (66) . I would be remiss to not include two of the Captain's favorites, Black Rose Drips With Red (55) and Affectations Of My Wiles (57) . I thank the reader for allowing this small indulgence. All these poems have been previously published, but now are contained in one cohesive work.

Libelous Methods (1)

Hell bent on retracing paths to former glory
enterprising adventures await my return.
Lady, loquacious in your speech, my heart employs
libelous methods. My feelings deign to deserve
the approbation of your smile, a discreet glance,
attentions that hasten my date with the gallows.
Erstwhile in your embrace you are my deadly dance.
Shall I escort you to the Queen's ball on the morrow?
Relinquishing to you my love, my life, perchance!

Lady Of Loquacious Speech (2)

Sentinels of pleasure stand guard on walls
that are breached with a singular salvo
from your lips, Lady of loquacious speech.
In your arms each minute, each second falls.
I am struck by your beauty with each blow
powder from your guns burn through my senses
winds toward your direction steady turn
passion has dissuaded all defenses.

Lingering Taste Of Your Lips (3)

Desirous of a brief interlude
formidable forces mount on my ship,
for the lingering taste of your lips I sue
this poor depraved world for a parting kiss.
Since last we met, I have been commissioned
to waylay a sovereign merchant fleet,
terms of which clearly state, at my own risk.
I would suspect politically contrived.
Dear Lady, loquacious in your speech,
for the glory and pleasure of your eyes
my battles rage and though my days be few
may uncertain currents return me to you.

Painted Stripes Of Savagery (4)

Masques of war, painted stripes of savagery
regardless of one's rank or expertise
these are the fertile fields in which I till
in trades in which I barter what I kill.
Dear Lady, loquacious in thy speech,
all must know it is thee to whom I speak
how insufferable will be my prize
if I am not the glory in thine eyes.

Vengeful Labors (5)

Vengeful labors bequeath their stain on me
that cannot be removed by acrid lye
should my soul be purified by the sea
entombed within her bosom I shall die.
Fitful Lady, loquacious in your speech,
your woman's flesh entices me in sleep
each day I rise to reap a newer dawn
and celebrate your beauty in my song.
Behind gold draped windows and marquee doors
there you stand like an art piece of decor
though you dress his arm in the godly light
am I not the devil you dream at night?

Ramparts Of Desire (6)

I climb ramparts of desire,
Lady of loquacious speech,
visceral pronunciations
from this deadly height I leap
into warm collecting waters
with thee, all of thee, beneath.

Ensconced in the wavelike movements
fixed securely to thy moor
moist firmaments unleashing
madness in thine velvet shores.

Eyelets Of A Faceless Sea (7)

Strange riptides, eyelets of a faceless sea,
spinning in clusters of gangrenous winds
signs of intense upheaval caution me
for you have now become my greatest sin.

Lady, loquacious in your speech,
my heart dispels with full ferocity,
murderous anguish undermines my reach
untoward drifting stars plague, dismay me
like martyrs in an ocean of excess;
their cold light reaching but never touching,
each one alone denying all the rest,
they are inconstant, their numbers crushing,
when their light dies their presence meaningless.

I should not leave you with distressing words,
you, my heart, my blood roils through my being,
in silence I am disarmed, I record
each passing thought, my inner eye seeing
the supple nature you possess, so strong,
sensual, your voice baring purpose in me,
pleasures abound on your edaphic shores.

what part you play in my life,
whence forth my ship sails in a fortnight,
directed by jealous stars and their fading light.

Affront To Your Lips (8)

Dear Lady, loquacious in your speech,
the sea a pooling teardrop on your cheek,
I seek to navigate that flowing tear
though bluffs of treachery must soon appear
whose cliffs resist the reaching water's height
sustaining privilege through the mask of night;
my heart cannot propose to be alive
if I remain unequal in your eyes,
better I be slain by English ships
than to be an affront to your lips.

The below letter is a response from the Queen.
Mon amant de la mer, French for, My lover from the sea!

What's Left Of My Heart (9)

Mon amant de la mer,

What cause have you for these alarming words
should I dwell on the privileged heights of class
for it were you that compromised my world,
decomposed me, and burned away my mask.
When is circumstance not our enemy,
as I shudder through my life of pretense,
now you will drift on endless waves of sea
love forever spurned by inconvenience?
I have arranged at your place of choosing
to meet on the eve you depart,
all I risk on you, and my soul losing,
all that I own and what's left of my heart.

Signed, Loquacious

The Queen signs her letters to the Captain as Loquacious.

Coconspirator Of Love (10)

I take your hand and feel your pressing palm
grasp lustful insurrections of my mind
vestiges of hope spur my wills resolve
to raid within the passages of pride.

Lady, loquacious in your speech,
waves of wantonness comb your sanguine beach
tiny sighs of pleasure intently coax
maddening desperation to my strokes,
if this act sent from the heavens above
then hell the coconspirator of love.

Deft Profiteering (11)

I ponder each curved letter, each linked crest,
remembering the sweetness of your breath,
imagining the workings of your tongue
voyaging the lines and notes you have sung.

Dear Lady, loquacious in your speech,
what cruel lessons has our love yet to teach?
Within my heart you have cut an unhealed scar;
still I leave you a servant in his charge,
the Spanish, French and English have their war,
I, the loathsome pirate they must cure,
seeking paid adventures that I crave
sometimes lending, at times withholding aid
mastering winds to loot a sovereign fleet
deft profiteering in the name of peace.

I Profess My Love For You (12)

A response from the Queen:

Mon amant de la mer,

Should loss or misfortune appear to mar
our future on this day I do profess
my love for you. May not the weakest star
deny guidance or the sea's turbulence
deter you from your task. Prepare your plan
but do not be reckless, I fear a trap,
the scope of this enterprise must demand
utmost diligence, should these gold lined scraps
of the King be that invaluable,
three English warships have been deployed,
about your skills I have no doubt when you
return to me, my lover and my joy.

Signed, Loquacious

The Queen signs her letters to the Captain as Loquacious.

Denied By Your Still Voice (13)

What would I write you
that I have not written before
unknowing if my words reach
the mind that I implore;
I have so named you,
I have raised you above the rest
honoring your single voice,
denied by your still breath.

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
what favored chords
must my poetry strive to reach,
to gain the notice of your ear
or the privilege of your eye,
how many of my foes must sink,
how many more must die?

By the power in my ship,
by the swiftness of my sword
I carve your name in bleeding lips
and feast off England's shores.

Protagonist For War (14)

The Queen responds:

Would then you carve my name into your lips
and leave my stain upon the English shores
what bloody legacy to your first kiss,
Loquacious, your protagonist for war.

Mon amant de la mer,

Your voice has gained the notice of my ear
and your harsh words the privilege of my eyes
I have not denied you a single tear
though you prey upon me with rueful lies.
How have you raised me and honored my voice,
charming me with callous wit and lustful breath
giving your words to me mindless of my choice
indulging each naked pore of my flesh?
Take your victory then with strong redress
you will champion my honor and my cause.
My husband is ill, with languishing strength,
his brazen enemies smirk at his door.
I take my leave for Kensington Palace,
let jealous viciousness redden your blood
relieve me of their presence and my grace
and I will be the royalty that you love.

Signed, Loquacious

The Queen signs her letters to the Captain as Loquacious.

(In the above letter, the Queen is ordering the Captain
to murder certain enemies of her husband, who is very ill
and can no longer defend himself.)

My Head Lies At Your Feet (15)

I would do all things for you, though my soul
would perish and die, regardless of wealth
to sweeten sudden urges, extolling
every magnificent, rash, sweltering breath
when you ease your grip on my stubborn pride
and slowly loose the vengeance from my eyes.

Regal Lady, loquacious in your speech,
you have asked me to champion a cause,
with lesser words or actions to impeach
should I list exuberance as a flaw?
I have destroyed a sovereign merchant fleet
the bounty on my head lies at your feet.

Royal Garden Of My Youth (16)

The Queen responds:

Mon amant de la mer,

With what intrigues would you buy my sweetened fruit,
sliced by your knife and held wickedly in your hands;
soft flesh grown in the royal garden of my youth
its earthy tartness sending pleasure to your glands.
By what deeds do you claim the privilege of my lips
and speak of love's uncharted waters to the world,
to recount the joys and mastery of your ship
in your arms embrace an adoring peasant girl.

Signed, Loquacious

Enlightenment Of The New World (17)

Foraging in the land of forgotten mercy
what remnant of civilization have you found
as you walk atop the heaped and naked corpses
where the enlightenment of the New World shines down.

Royal Lady, loquacious in your speech,
within your chequered world which one of sixteen piece?
Am I the outcast knight or bishop losing faith
or the impregnable castle moated at your gate
or a trifling pawn that must die to master life
reaching the crowning square transfigured in your sight.

Capturing All Your Love (18)

Attaining a significant satisfaction
from the whimsical parody of your fleet words
I will refrain from all lesser womanly attractions
assigning my due diligence to whatever
verbose pleasures you may afford.

Dear Lady, loquacious in your speech,
each infectious word you sound now invades my sleep.
Would I be that trifling pawn shunned at your front door
as I steadfastly march elated by our war,
achieving one final step to the ending square
transfigured by the queening light christening your hair
emboldening my kingly pride I rise with rapid breath
capturing all your love in our game of chess.

Can You Stand To Know (19)

A powder keg of diverse emotions,
I return once more to attain the right,
with the florid strength of salient oceans
to destroy the banalities of life.

Those who would harm your husband
no longer pose a threat,
their terms of service a most
inconsequential length.

Dear Lady, loquacious in your speech,
all parts of me thrash wildly on your reef.
Within the commonality of man
does outcast flesh disgrace your buttered hand?
Ah! My regent and conquest of my soul,
how much more of me can you stand to know?

Laced With Incipient Desire (20)

The Queen responds:

Mon amant de la mer,

Laced with incipient desire,
I tremble at your approach,
you suffer both my needy heart
and the shards of my reproach;
take me in your wind burned arms
and break me like the gales
climbing every sea drenched wave
then at peace on my still sails.

Chided By The Book (21)

The Queen responds:

Do you play the trifling pawn
or the assassin's rook
laying heads before your Queen,
she of loquacious speech, ?
begging forgiveness from the robes,
chided by the book,
or killing off the champion Knight
so you may charm his seat?


Acts The Jester And Dances The Fool (22)

Your Highness,

I have desired and cursed you in vain
unnerved by the dreams that murder the night,
I strike like a shark but what have I gained
my shadow profanes the absence of light.
Your burden I bear, you torched out my sight;
the regency's throne encrusted with jewels
on the arm you sit with eyes of disdain,
you were bred for that day, this is your right,
I am not of them, a scandalous tool
that acts the jester and dances the fool.

My Obsession With Fate (23)

The Queen responds:

Mon Amant De La Mer,

Litanies of chance persuade my actions;
upon your body I know every scar,
every blemish, every base distraction.
Does not more bind us, than tear us apart?
This journey I sail with you insofar
compromising my obsession with fate
or my soul made virtuous on the rack.
Would you have my name and title disbarred,
an unhoused bird made to flutter naked
to search the barren oceans for her mate?

Signed, Loquacious

Loins Of English Treason (24)

If my trade a blight upon the nation
preaching loyalty with a drying tongue
England play host to my blood relation
betrayed by the loins of your own treason.
Sardonic riches are the gold I won
that only buys what wealth decides to lose,
gimmickry can never raise my station
or veil me from the deeds that I have done;
but, if this Lady be the one I choose
how fell a grip would my hand dare to use.

Blossom Of My Blood (25)

Institutions of the divine
lay crumbling on your false shores
with the recalcitrant look of love
I pound on regal doors.

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
calamitous waves deny me from your reach,
with each indelicate blow I must rise anew
no one gives, all must take
that which is their due.

I bear a gentle flower
that thrives only in the deep
through the blazing days at sea
I suffered it to keep.
I watched it drink the salty brine
that I thinned out with my blood
thought its slender leaves fell off
there arose a tiny bud.
From the darkness in my heart
I thought it's root might spoil
but there it stood straight and white
anchored to it's soil.
I arrive at break of day
and will pull it from the mud
from the garden of my heart
the blossom of my blood.

Surety Of Soul (26)

Dearest Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
I know not with any certainty
if or when my letters reach;
today I praise you for surety
of soul and prestige of mind.
How can one know the grape
if one does not taste the wine?

Caped Matadors Reborn (27)

Epitomizing the grace and elegance of wine
grown in the ancient naves and vineyards of my mind
across the sea I hold your embodiment upright
I watch you slowly darken through long and faceless night
changing hues fermenting in your fancy labeled cage
penetrating blushing reds that deepen as you age.
Dear Lady, loquacious in your speech,
should I flesh the juice from grapes this sweet?
should I voice the tales of caped matadors reborn
fighting renowned bulls with gold and platinum horns
gouged to death in frightful contestations of love
wounds of pride, greed, and lust inherent in their blood.
I ponder ways to reach you with my clever witty thoughts
to taste each vintage of your heart, the wines that I have sought,
so I will give these notes to my fleet mercurial god
who wings his way then sudden drunk falls between the clouds.

School Of Circumstance (28)

The Queen responds:

Mon Amant De La Mer,

Underlying the custom of propriety,
my thoughts court you with a native island dance
considered base by those of high society
and unforgiven by the school of circumstance.
Filled with jungle beasts and flowers of enchantment;
wavy lakes pooling dreams where clean cool water falls,
here I would have the freedom that inspires me
to live a life of wealth not given me by chance,
naked on the sand without blemish or a mole
unsure how deep my roots attach me to my soul.

Signed, Loquacious

I Recite Blind Lines (29)

Feather rich greens retrace denuded skies
unleashed by the wistfulness inherent
in your eyes; Lady of loquacious speech
with strong voice in all humbleness I try
to recite blind lines I inspired sent
to be my love what matter to the world
for you own my mind, reaffirm my lips,
with my soul off course, nothing will I find.

Raw Malkin Woman (30)

With wild abandon
I disturb the precious Arts
that have torn apart my senses
and bled my naked heart.

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
I have uncovered savage dimensions
in this world wilderness in which we meet.
What is true cannot breed false intentions
as I struggle my thoughts fain to bequeath
what justifies you to my eyes dins all
other impressions, you become my nude
elaborately spread on desires wall,
a raw abandoned piece of art, a crude
malkin woman who lives to thrill my lustful heart.

The Queen responds:

Wilderness Of World (31)

And take you, I must and shall
on the bold luster of your word
and you will poach the fecund sea
in the wilderness of world.

Mon Amant De La Mer,

These intrigues bind me as I piece apart
your native background, chamberlain or lout?
Were you schooled by missionary gypsies
or the insidious fervor of doubt?
Do you worship creature or creator,
Magog or God who will deny your heart?

Signed, Loquacious

Antithesis Of My Soul (32)

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
it is in this impracticality
of one condemned to inferior class
but in fervor vehemently beseech
your love, however vilified or tasked
my place, and crave your hospitality;
here I hesitate at your chambers door,
where your voice articulates or destroys
that which I have freely given,
together let us rule supine and lie
with the antithesis of our souls.

Grand Ocean Of Want (33)

Traveling through this grand ocean of want
the satisfaction of my senses gives
more than I can ever hope to take back.

Impetuous though my thoughts and actions be,
momentous are the seconds I relive
the causative nature of my environment.

It is this indelible mood
that I write to you these words
and lost in the abstract profundity of love
I predate my thoughts to the first of our encounters.

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
solemnity is the pulpit from which I preach,
the day I knelt before you and kissed your gentle hand
I called myself protector though shunned by my own land;
in my eyes the wild beast, the serpent from the deep,
in your eyes the ocean's depth that cared to make them weep.
I am sealed by love, bound with hate, by my bastard birth
doomed to roam the wicked seas till the ends of earth.

Love's Eye (34)

Your Highness,

Impartial arenas of thought provoke
the gladiatorial thumbs up or down
in your killing fields where love's silk token
compels me as the drums of death beat round.
In the days of mercy what have I found
lovelier than the blue blossoming sky,
inspiring as the advent of hope;
yet, I watch your silk token flutter down
and raging against all I hate and despise
will I be the one left standing in love's eye.

Commandeer My Will (35)

Momentous are the seconds
I relive each cardinal virtue,
with rising pulse I brave my love
ever in your presence,
Lady, loquacious in your speech,
doubts that have plagued
and commandeered my will
appear unpersuasive, I change
my course discovering ways
through time and distance.

The Queen responds:

Life's Umbilical Ink (36)

Mon Amant De La Mer,

I am bound by the tendrils of remorse
that slowly choke and putrefy my speech;
I shy from the weariness of discourse
with this cold heartless man I lie beneath.
Hear me behind the breath of my clenched teeth,
endeared to you, the one that I crave most;
within the anthologies of our verse
words imbibed from life's umbilical ink,
some that burden me, others breed new hope,
in our Wilderness of World both of us are lost.

Signed, Loquacious

Days Martyred In Trust (37)

In this Wilderness of World incessant
tributes are preached and days martyred in trust
of your love, Lady of loquacious speech.
In this folly of breath the months advance
and my voice once so certain is now hushed;
to what do I return and victory yield,
Will I be upstaged behind your curtain,
with my only act someone new will steal?

The Queen responds:

Pink Bellflower (38)

A pink bellflower dangling on her strap
shouldering pain, blue veins strangling
the seeds of desire, it's Queen heart
conspiring for power and gain
befitting as the drones die caught
in the hem of her gold and emerald attire.

Mon Amant De La Mer,

Your days are martyred in my trust
singing my glories to the wind and sea
and the cold creatures that lurk below
the smooth fluid crust do they also share
in your world, in our wilderness of lust?
In your folly what have you decreed
as the months and years advance
and with what treasures will you court
your queen in the turbulence of your act?
And what great victory shall you stage
behind the curtain of carnal pleasure
with incessant ship wrecks and delays
I still await you as you loiter at your ease.


Battlefield Genius (39)

Arriving at this juncture between thought and action
curious decisions are rife to be made;
Lady, loquacious in your speech, with dual impact
your liberty of voice bares both novelty and pain,
beseeched as your front, 'Battlefield Genius, '
then dismissed as the lover who lords about your throne.
Regardless of my own undistinguished talents
that I have dutifully and faithfully applied
or what sufferings of fate I must condone
you are my Queen and will be such till I die.

False Document Of Your Flesh (40)

Marooned by inadequacy near ocean's end
I take inventory of what's left of my pride
with the nature of a magician I pretend
not to notice that I have vanished from your eyes.
Where do I find solace in this forgotten time
with thoughts of you, each newfound second in retreat,
my distance measured by the lonesomeness of mind
and the power of the fall crushing me beneath.

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
smoldering tyranny controls the purse strings
that you reach, and what speaks truer
in your domain than the heartlessness
in which you have used me for your gain;
shipwrecked with trails of loyalties blood,
features that once enticed me age from view,
repatriated by the false document of your flesh,
your Queenly note holds no promise
less lovely than the rest.

Perfidious Visions (41)

Unannounced you return
to witness my pain,
conspiring in your letters
this reality is plain,
have I been outmaneuvered
for my own impersonal gain
and all I stand for,
have I stood for in vain?

Perfidious visions have infiltrated
all semblance of sleep,
the uncertainness of life
destroying joyful reason,
caught in this quicksand of thought
which silently suffocates my being,
I relinquish all honor
and dutifully await your word
in the hope that the barbarous
nature of my actions will please you,
whom I deem most high.

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
how fastidious of length
are the tears you weep;
they do not seem to travel
past your painted cheek,
as rivers flow
yours would be charted,
very weak,
and the small residue
of salt they trail behind
would they be enough
to emasculate a fly.

May the prestige of my victory or death
bring great satisfaction to your throne.

Anoint My Love (42)

Falling prey to the salt mist's husky scent
I place my lips and kiss your troubled hand,
the waves reach your feet and slowly relent
garnished with the specks of the rolling sand;
each grain blinking, retracing where you stand
my ocean of want outlined in the waves
corridors of time where my life is spent
wondering will you ever love this man,
upon my shoulders the cold burning blade
anoints my love while the grains slowly wash away.

Death Of Love Reclines (43)

You have loosed a scented kerchief
that casually drifts behind,
away I stole it like a thief
to cherish for all time.

Dear lady,
loquacious in your speech,
may I take this linen cloth
and dab my blood specks
from your cheek.
Your words I need to give me life
but your voice will never rise
the levels of the graveyard's pit
where the death of love reclines.

Regal Tigress Delighted Purrs (44)

Mounting waves in delicious enticement,
do you await your mariner's return,
saturated with salt spray, ocean breath,
will the Regal Tigress delighted purr
beneath the scorched lines of my craving pores;
yet, your hungry touch all my mind resists
where you lie open devouring my flesh
through the passing of lust's ferocious door
merciless is her first savage kiss
enjoining separate oceans,
drowning gasping lips.

All Things Unknown (45)

Distancing myself from familiarity
of action I strike out with servitude of mind;
to waylay your love, feel your passionate presence,
listen to you speak lost in the depth of your words,
touch the brush strokes of your thoughts, confounding reason,
watch your aura as it glows in layered richness,
bow before the privilege of your enlightened touch
stimulating and evolving all things unknown.

What I Must Find To Know (46)

When I require inspiration
I think of you,
I search my heart and allow
that which is good to flow,
restless with my words,
ideals sigh, but never refuse
to expose all that I am,
what I must find to know.

Strands Of Red That Are Braided Round (47)

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
my impertinence lifts your heavy crown
beneath this heirloom your sweet forehead wet
and your strands of red that are braided round;
I untie and lie them on your shoulder's bed
and smell their softness with unsteady breath,
my fingers trace and trail your proud cheek bone lines
I lightly brush with warm certain lips
reveals your face and determined mind
though you stand unresistant in my arms
I delay my kiss and embrace your jewelless crown.

Grace Me Should I Die (48)

Gathering all past feelings,
relating them to this present moment
externalizing my utmost love and devotion
to that which I hold most sacred,
sculpting you in words,
making love rhyme synchronous
with reason, grasping onto you
at the end and beginning of my lines,
entwining you in mystery,
decoding you in verse,
imagining your presence,
enamored of your touch,
suffering your beauty,
administering your mind,
these things I do at this present
moment and gift my heart
forever in your hope.

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
a simple gesture will absolve me of my grief
the mountains stare and rivers bend at your approach,
where my stakes of pride have deeply gouged the earth.
If no meaning in these letters that I sent
them I invite you to propose the terms of argument;
so what of beauty that age one day will deny
when the currents of love no longer charge the eye,
what becomes of us when our wits and words escape
to the regions of mind that no longer plead our case
but through these travesties I await my Queen's reply
and hope your words of love will grace me should I die.

Soft Innuendoes (49)

Predacious suffering in your jackal world
has given me cause to despoil your throne
can my treasonous words be forgiven,
will I once again call England my home?
A transparent intimacy distracts
my art and reinvents all things I knew
with newfound bearing in my pirate heart
I gamely surrender my love to you.

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
with undisclosed magnificence I bring
these soft innuendos, my words discreet,
carefully cloaked and chosen for my Queen
deeply written in a song I must never sing.

Estuary Of Words (50)

Flooding through my estuary of words
each syllable longing you, without touch
distrusting reason, exposing your world
filling me with pain in the swirling rush
lovemaking that reverberates in time;
coy fingers undressing you in spooling
lakes seduced by the mountains spiraling
above blue mouthed caves drunk on these pooling
springs engulfing you, in these waters I
the voiceless rapids enter you in waves.

I Compose You Totally (51)

My Queen,

I am obsessed with the dichotomy of your eyes,
the total subjugation of my thoughts reinforced
in contrasting colors that subtly distill my mind
and my plaintive suffering words that speak unrehearsed
against the world upon opposing sides, with svelte moves
you attempt to assuage my love, how you cloak your heart;
yet, subtleties are never missed, true seduction found.
I may not share your bed, mere provisions for the soul,
not of might or external length but inward feelings shown
in the rhapsody of my song I compose you totally
a foreign creature, nurtured, cultured, bred and born.

I Laid Down My Sword (52)

I laid down my sword and followed my Queen
bade me inside the torchlit corridor,
twelve dark roses on the mosaic floor,
she unhinged the lock with a golden key.

I remember this all my days at sea
when I came to her through her chambers door
I laid down my sword and followed my Queen
twelve dark roses on the mosaic floor.

And all her tears, and pride, and royalty
that stirs my passion with a lion's roar
this complex meaning to a simple chore
in a world of blue and quintessence green
I laid down my sword and followed my Queen.

Beds Of Virgin Innocence (53)

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
the total conquest of my mind objectifies belief,
in my hands a ribboned scroll, its parchment coarse and dry,
the words above your royal seal deeply wounds my eye.
What decorum or habitat reveals about survival of my caste;
the potency of unseen lines, the indignities of class,
With fluency of tongue unsaid words claim my strength;
you deny me rest in beds of virgin innocence,
you deny me thought despising my crude ignorance,
you deny me love and the complexities I crave
bolting the chamber of your unused heart
and watch me pound in vain.

Guide Me Toward Your Foreign World (54)

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
meridians of desire have drawn me from the deep,
on soul maps of white and gold that cross and intertwine
this final journey to your heart completely fills my mind.
I hear the ocean's cadenced voice gently sound your name
in the beauty of the whispered hush softly falls the rain.
Though continents divide my grief or words be misapplied
the zenith of north western lights completely thrill my eyes.
Should I chart the longitude or latitude of love
across the widening gulf of time in you my thoughts revolve.
Can the language of my verse or the conquest of your tongue
guide me toward your foreign world where all points converge as one?

Black Rose Drips With Red (55)

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
disregarding all interest
in conciliatory gestures
I send this delicate rose,
with black scented petals,
in the hopes that it should make
a lasting peace.

Distilling an aroma of mystery,
its slender aborigine stem
lined and edged with jagged thorns
threads and weaves trustingly
reaching outward in the blind,
the essence of dark longing.

Black laced is its beauty
as my mind envisions all parts of you;
and sweeter still the outer swell
that I breathe in through my pores,
distinguished by the fragile look
that steals all light and brings me
fallen as I close each empty door.

Charmed by laughter, girlish might,
and the soft windings of your smile
that slings my heart across your lips
where reigns the touch of fire.
Here I lay these desperate words
on the cold side of your bed
and in the depth of soulless hours
this black rose drips with red.

Composing Her Naturally To Me (56)

What once is gone may never again be
awakening thoughts in unspoken sound
with these words adrift, motionless I found
composing her naturally to me.

I thrilled to her, her sweet coy words touching
all parts of me her cool breath underground
stealth like kisses indelibly wound
rising bout my lips soulful, saliently

wistfully thinking her ever to be
awakening thoughts in unspoken sound
with these words adrift, motionless I found
composing her naturally to me.

Affectation Of My Wiles (57)

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
you tempt me with challenges
as tart as they are sweet.
If indifference wills your mind
and deems my words uncouth
I officiously entrain
though your heart remains aloof.
With affectation of my wiles
and preponderance of guilt
the black rose I laid at your feet
shall bleed but never wilt.

Disenfranchised From Your Mind (58)

Perhaps I confuse you, my love,
with archaic themes
woven through my verse
as my heart beat throbs in earnest
for a simple salutary sign
or perhaps I subjugate myself
too readily to your cruel indecisiveness
as you leave me broke and bewildered
disenfranchised from your mind.

Strange Charisma Of Your Words (59)

Falling victim to a presumed measure of acceptance
that differentiates your world from mine,
I hope all past grievances have been forgiven,
and the enlightened nature of your company
shall once again inhabit the forefront of my mind.

Dear Lady, loquacious in your speech,
beatitudes of pleasure fill my heart with disbelief.
Still soft visions of my queen removing her disguise
and the barren nature of our souls stripped of all their pride.
Our world a dream infectious though it be,
and the strange charisma of your words disarming as the sea.

Fornicating In The Bowels Of Unswerving Reason (60)

Artifacts of emotional distress
left chiseled on your soft dimpled cheek;
sensuous, predatory you stand,
motionless, pedestaled on the edge
of unswerving reason.
This disease of lust fornicating
in my bowels has twisted
all semblance of chaste morality.
I leave these words at the base
of your stone feet.

I have sacrificed all for you,
for my edification by your tongue
I will return an unburied corpse
and bathe you in my blood.

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
armaments of desire can bring no lasting peace.
With what weapon I choose to close the bounds
between the Old World and the New
on this neutral ground in which we stand
there is no escaping truth.

Elixir Of Your Senses (61)

Rhythm's of newfound oceans recompose
the intensity of need driving me
to your shores, Lady, of loquacious speech.
Gifts I share in this adventure of soul
and what bold words I discover to move
your heart are but flowing points as I dream
the elixir of your senses. What sound
suffers more than the platitudes of want,
more naked than scenes that thread the curtain
of life, more intense than the willfulness
of flesh. I raise your flask and take a sip.

My Queen,
With novelty of action I mix these thoughts
and deem this draught far sweeter
than all others that have ever passed
through my parched lips.

Fault Lines In My Heart (62)

Was it your selected discourse on love,
where truth overwhelmed the path of longing,
or the undeniable expression
of your eyes that carved fault lines in my heart?

The writings of your voice soft and fluid
rekindled dreams dead but not forgotten
then the savage logic of the pain when
your once sweet words turned cold, harsh and bitter.

Graduating From The Rhythmic Pangs (63)

Graduating from the rhythmic pangs
of unrequited love
I write my Queen knowing pain
will never weaken my resolve.

Dear Lady,
loquacious in your speech,
battlements of desire
hold the treasure that I seek.
And what riches await
as I climb each wooden rung
and tread across the bloodied stones
until the battles won.

Renewing My Love Affair With The Sea (64)

Effecting an elegant arrangement near at hand,
Lady, Loquacious in your speech,
I peruse the body of your letters hoping
I will understand the cause for your alarm.
Did my haughty pursuit seeking your attentions
distill the evening song of our embrace?
My heart captured by these first lyrical notes,
charmed, like a smoldering ember fired with belief,
suffering in the wellspring of its thirst.
Of what has and shall be written,
intimately scribed but never spoken,
the melodic sounding of your voice evades me;
yet, the offspring of our poems has woken
and renews my love affair with the sea.

Weighted Words That Never Vary (65)

My Queen,
Standing on the precipice
I view your foreign land
Engulfed in a stormy mist
I extend to you my hand.
Reaching through the barrier
I feel the mountain's crush
Weighted words that never vary,
Desperate for your touch.

Contenting Love Once Copiously Poured (66)

Within the tendrils of your soft embrace
may I not be too weak in words to find
a worthy phrase to celebrate this place
nor waver unsteadily as I climb
for in each thread that my design must choose
if but one unravels, the whole to lose.

Engaged by the novelties of your will
I rest between the pages soon to turn
engendering each moment as I till
unearthing fragments of a broken urn
contenting love once copiously poured
though destroyed now twice, may the third restore?

Contained within the passion of your kiss
can I be completely thus entwined,
naivety of heart cannot express;
to be is mortal, to be more, divine,
compelling these pages emphatically told,
the humblest parts redeeming the whole.

Time Withers But Love Remains Perfect (67)

Hard years have fallen and my love commands,
Lady of loquacious speech, what blemish
can mar its passage? Time withers but love
remains perfect beneath its temporal glance;
offering its soft arms that we may both
dissolve within, beating with its warm heart,
breathing with its sweet breath, no feeling
beyond reach, knowing it gives only of itself,
being more than what I am or can ever be.

Kostas Lagos 06 February 2021

Amazing work Captain! To my list!

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