Saturday, November 05, 2005

Understanding Baba


There are those who call me a witch outright,
and those who only point and whisper bann.
I am crone to some, and old Mother too,
but to most am simply ‘nether woman’.

There are those who would run me from the road,
and those who turn and pretend not to see.
but maidens come in the dark hush of night,
and lads seek me out ‘neath the forest tree.

For the pulse of young blood sings to me
and I can fine tune the heart strings of love;
for midst hairy warts and snaggled teeth,
is the secret of passion nether trove.

Inside these rags is a comely young girl
the blinded world will lost never care.
My true love died within my splendid arms
though enthralled we had not a kiss to share

My heart-leaped dreams are ever still born,
and my ecstasy beyond ever glee,
but my song can bring tears to troubled youth,
for my words are ‘nether me – grant to thee’.

In love of love itself, I am trapped.
Know what mistreated love cannot behold.
That even so old and ugly I can sing
of nether dreams that are forever told.


At 6:32 PM, Blogger Fran said...

Very good one. Thanks Faucon

At 1:53 AM, Blogger le Enchanteur said...

this is incredibly moving faucon. thank you.


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