The Weigh Of Words - Poem by Edward Iacona
THE WEIGH OF WORDS
From the dawn of the written word
It soon became the norm
For writers in almost every tongue
Including ancient Cuneiform.
To describe the essence of love
And in literary ways to drape them.
So lover's may borrow a clever phrase
When their own words escape them.
Elizabeth Barret Browning
On one of her romantic days,
Decided to enumerate her love
As she counted all her ways.
It's in 'Sonnets Of The Portuguese'
But I will tell you before you begin it
There is not a word about Portugal
That is anywhere within it.
She walks in beauty like the night
And at Lord Byron I do not scoff.
As I have heard love's often easier
When the lights are off.
Even Poe who is never cheery
Carried on about his lost dearie
Going on about his lost Lenore
While some Raven squawked, 'Nevermore'.
Burns compared his love to a red red rose
A most popular match by far.
That thorny flower is a common choice
But that is just the way things are.
Shakespeare's Romeo to his Juliet would tell
That a Rose called by any other name
Would have a similar sweet smell
And, with such words was fanned the flame.
Then it was Gertrude Stein who wrote
A Rose is a Rose is a Rose.
What she exactly meant by that.
I can only guess, 'Who knows? '
And, one need not be Russian
To tell his lady he adores her
By quoting some romantic Pushkin
To his darling ptichka moya.
From the face that launched one thousand ships
To the face on the barroom floor..
Alas, for the woman that I truly LOVE
There is no adequate metaphor..
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