Neil Perry (
had_not_lived) wrote in
poly_chromatic2012-02-14 07:41 pm
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♕ |[79]| My heart has made its mind up and I'm afraid it's you.
Today seemed like the right occasion for a poem, but it's hard to find the right poem for the occasion. After all, there aren't many things poets write about more often than love. But, I kind of like John Donne, so that's what I ended up with:
I hope you have a happy Valentine's Day, everyone.
[ooc; sharp-eyed acquaintances in the right place at the right time might happen to see a certain couple of poets having dinner in some restaurant this evening... ;)]
I scarce believe my love to be so pure
As I had thought it was,
Because it doth endure
Vicissitude, and season, as the grass;
Methinks I lied all winter, when I swore
My love was infinite, if spring make'it more.
But if this medicine, love, which cures all sorrow
With more, not only be no quintessence,
But mixed of all stuffs paining soul or sense,
And of the sun his active vigour borrow,
Love’s not so pure, and abstract as they use
To say, which have no mistress but their Muse ;
But as all else, being elemented too,
Love sometimes would contemplate, sometimes do.
And yet no greater, but more eminent,
Love by the spring is grown ;
As in the firmament
Stars by the sun are not enlarged, but shown,
Gentle love deeds, as blossoms on a bough,
From love's awakened root do bud out now.
If, as in water stirr'd more circles be
Produced by one, love such additions take,
Those like so many spheres but one heaven make,
For they are all concentric unto thee ;
And though each spring do add to love new heat,
As princes do in times of action get
New taxes, and remit them not in peace,
No winter shall abate this spring’s increase.
I hope you have a happy Valentine's Day, everyone.
[ooc; sharp-eyed acquaintances in the right place at the right time might happen to see a certain couple of poets having dinner in some restaurant this evening... ;)]
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[Stephen will be regretting these words tomorrow...]
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[ she'd assumed the latter. whoops. ]
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Private/Voice
That's a splendid poem.
[And totally is. Even in his twisted, obsessive stalker's mind :|]
Private/Voice
[private text, evening]
[private text, evening]
[Not that you can see but he's pretty much turned purple.]
[private text, evening]
[That was the intention, but it's so easy to embarrass Neil and Todd that it's almost unsporting. On this most bitter of holidays, however, Justin doesn't feel particularly bad about it.]
When you come back to the apartment, don't worry about embarrassing yourselves. I don't plan on leaving my room.
[private text, evening]
[private text, evening]
[private text, evening]
[private text, evening]
[Although Neil's inability to accept this offer of privacy is tempting Justin to sneak out before they get home from dinner and do something that will make them blush furiously--putting on some soft music, implementing some mood lighting, perhaps scattering some rose petals around.]
[private text, evening]
[Neil would turn purple, which might make it worth his effort, even if he wasn't there to see.]
[private text, evening]
Don't worry. Enjoy the rest of the evening.
[And the rose petals, which will be in place by the time Neil and Todd make their way home.]
[private text, evening]
[Maybe eventually they'll get over the blushing. Maybe next week.]
[private text, evening]
[Happy Valentine's Day?]