05-02-2015, 08:54 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-02-2015, 10:19 AM by Sentimental Gentleman.)
With apologies to William Blake for that title...
I was just so inspired by Ziggy's poetry today that I felt I had the temerity to post some of my occasional Equestrian poetry here. I'm hoping A.J. won't mind if I post some of the love poems I've written to her over time...
I guess I might as well start with this piece, as I think it's one of the few works I've written that isn't completely absurd and stupid (though it's probably still both). It also isn't much of a poem; more of an address. I wrote it in my pony-avatar days during my first Winter Wrap-Up, which was such a magical experience for me.
"Today we shall unknot the river's ropes of frost
And, ransomed by the kingly spring, she who was once prisoner
Will rush homeward, rejoicing in tongues of white foam
Yet not a word of thanks for her brave champions?
Ingratitude, some cry, but they are silenced
When her lord bestows his just guerdon;
The apple bough waves in the wind, imperious as a scepter
And a banquet of rain, a feast of flowers
Are laid; the mantle green with glory
Cloaks us once more, and happy
Are we, who wear the crown of
New-twin'd ivy on our brows!"
I was just so inspired by Ziggy's poetry today that I felt I had the temerity to post some of my occasional Equestrian poetry here. I'm hoping A.J. won't mind if I post some of the love poems I've written to her over time...
I guess I might as well start with this piece, as I think it's one of the few works I've written that isn't completely absurd and stupid (though it's probably still both). It also isn't much of a poem; more of an address. I wrote it in my pony-avatar days during my first Winter Wrap-Up, which was such a magical experience for me.
"Today we shall unknot the river's ropes of frost
And, ransomed by the kingly spring, she who was once prisoner
Will rush homeward, rejoicing in tongues of white foam
Yet not a word of thanks for her brave champions?
Ingratitude, some cry, but they are silenced
When her lord bestows his just guerdon;
The apple bough waves in the wind, imperious as a scepter
And a banquet of rain, a feast of flowers
Are laid; the mantle green with glory
Cloaks us once more, and happy
Are we, who wear the crown of
New-twin'd ivy on our brows!"
Applejack, the apple of my eye