From the Archives
Greetings reader! Like many of you, I’ve been keeping busy during this period of quarantine with lots of cleaning and reorganizing projects. This weekend, looking through some tote tubs of old treasures of high school debate trophies, old photos, tchotchkes, day planners and yearbooks, I happened on some files of my old writings.
As I read through this little trove of archives, I did remember writing some of the pieces I found. But one caught my attention, an untitled poem printed on dot matrix paper. I’ve never been much for writing poetry. I enjoy reading poetry from time to time. John Donne is my favorite. But it’s not a form of expression I work in, myself. I don’t remember writing this piece. In fact, I ran a plagiarism check on it because I wasn’t convinced I was the author. Apparently, it is in fact my original work. So, I give you the newly titled work, Come Not Here.
Come Not Here
Come not here, this night, to declare thine unending love, But come to confess thine devotion to another. Come not here to sing your joyful song to me, But to sing a song of farewell. Give not unto me a token of remembrance, Unless it is in parting from this pool of hallowed light. Be gone from me not in sorrow of parting, But be gone from me in joy. Love me no longer. For I deserve your devotion not. Your true love doth wait for you afar, And I willst not part you. She ist not of fair skin. Nor doth she sing a calming tune. She ist not a gentle nor graceful dove. Your love doth love you not. She doth not see you in dreams, Nor doth se yearn for your loving word, Yet she waits for you afar. With her fury and destruction she ist calling. Her death and betrayal doth draw you near, And with it, I shalt not compete. So now away, oh gallant Knight. For daylight through yonder wood ist now coming, And the battle call ist sounding.
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