deepundergroundpoetry.com
Venus Melancholia
- Venus Melancholia -
Gentle Venus, as like dark Persephone why art thou so very sad,
What darksome melancholy doth now play upon thy sweet face?
Beholding thee even thusly, I do find myself mayhap as most glad,
For I am even still in awe, before the fair wonder that is thy grace!
Perhaps I am in such this manner selfish, but nay, it is not truly so...
For thy inner reflections and musings do stir in me a deep concern,
And I do stumble, like one who knows not truly which way to go...
I see not the brightest fires in which thy spirit doth bathe and burn.
Yet still would I know them again, aye if only to please thee more!
How wouldst thou therefore have me be for thee, oh my Mistress?
Shall I play the chaste and holy servant of thy fair and sovereign will,
Or, shall I play the lustily wanton slut Jezebel, the hungering whore?
What would serve to ease thy maddest contemplation: thy distress...
Shall I stir thee with some kiss, or some darker kind of sensual thrill?
Thy blood doth sing out seducing and calls out to mine, a siren song,
Our inner fires rise hot and long to meet as one in rapture and bliss!
Sweet Mistress, for thee I do often pine, gods how I thirst and long,
I must to thy embrace then fall, and falling rise even higher than this!
I am thy plaything, I am thy willing slave; unto thee I do truly belong,
For I have tasted of thy pure darkness, since I fell victim, to thy kiss.
Ishtar, thou hast truly won a most profound and so welcome victory,
Look how I do kneel, my head bowing low before thy sacred throne...
How wilt thou claim thy spoils this time, oh ye loftily mighty Queen?
Behold! We do complete each other in the scheme of Divine destiny,
We are each of the other's flesh and blood, and even unto my bones...
I look within thy distant eyes, and I do behold all that thou hast seen.
The substance of thy madness is of a substance that is become mine,
For what canst thou suffer that I do not, in painful pleasure, join as well?
So I too am mad, and very welcome it is, for it is proof that I am thy,
I am but ash in thy roaring flames, and such a Heaven is this, our Hell!
Thy sweetest breath is my perfume, and thy blood was ever my wine,
Thy ancient caverns are the palaces where our nobility doth eternally dwell.
No sweeter nectar hath ever come from the grapes of so humble a vine,
The like of which I hath been blessed to have tasted, thirstily, of thee!
Thou art exquisite beyond all measure; thou art beautiful and sublime,
How can Heaven dwell upon the Earth, how can such perfection truly be?
Thou art terrible and thou art wonderful beyond all the wisdom of time,
Ageless and immortal: ever young and ever alive for all eyes to truly see.
Are we among the Blessed, or shall we be counted amongst the Damned,
I care not, for thou art my Paradise enough, and all that I could desire...
Thou art my Mistress, and I truly do delight in thy every holy command,
To serve another as I serve thee would be my most tormented anguish...
Better to truly die, and to sink in the flames of one's own funeral pyre,
Than never again be able to fulfill and sate thy every glorious demand!
Any Hell of thy creation is the sweetest realm in which one may languish...
So let me burn, ye gods, so long as it be in Her glory, in Her undying fire!
Imperishable and pure, oh Venus, is the glow within thy sapphire eyes,
Before which even the mighty gods do avert their once-proud glances...
I have beheld thy warrior's heart, my own, however delicate is thy guise,
And have I not taken part in all of thy secret revels and sacred dances?
Ah, such a sweet embrace, and how like to Death is Her sister, Love...
Where pain doth meet sweetest release to become thusly a single thing!
I can feel thy passion within me, like a hand within a familiarly fit glove...
Such indescribable joy that this fine sensation doth ever-newly bring!
Be ye witness before, ye radiant spirits that are want to circle above...
I sigh, I die; yet I live eternal that Her praises I may thus forever sing!
Hail, gentle Venus, glorious Ishtar, beloved aspect of my very heart,
Thou art the soul of love, the soul of Heavenly Glory in me incarnate!
We can never be cast asunder, and we may never truly become apart,
For our souls are twin in essence, as ever, each the other's truest mate.
I shall be myself, and in being myself I shall be thee: and so be content,
No longer melancholy, but delighting and delightful, the darling of lovers!
For thou art within me, even as once thou were beyond the firmament,
And mine eyes see clearly, for the first time, freed from former covers.
Gentle Venus, as like dark Persephone why art thou so very sad,
What darksome melancholy doth now play upon thy sweet face?
Beholding thee even thusly, I do find myself mayhap as most glad,
For I am even still in awe, before the fair wonder that is thy grace!
Perhaps I am in such this manner selfish, but nay, it is not truly so...
For thy inner reflections and musings do stir in me a deep concern,
And I do stumble, like one who knows not truly which way to go...
I see not the brightest fires in which thy spirit doth bathe and burn.
Yet still would I know them again, aye if only to please thee more!
How wouldst thou therefore have me be for thee, oh my Mistress?
Shall I play the chaste and holy servant of thy fair and sovereign will,
Or, shall I play the lustily wanton slut Jezebel, the hungering whore?
What would serve to ease thy maddest contemplation: thy distress...
Shall I stir thee with some kiss, or some darker kind of sensual thrill?
Thy blood doth sing out seducing and calls out to mine, a siren song,
Our inner fires rise hot and long to meet as one in rapture and bliss!
Sweet Mistress, for thee I do often pine, gods how I thirst and long,
I must to thy embrace then fall, and falling rise even higher than this!
I am thy plaything, I am thy willing slave; unto thee I do truly belong,
For I have tasted of thy pure darkness, since I fell victim, to thy kiss.
Ishtar, thou hast truly won a most profound and so welcome victory,
Look how I do kneel, my head bowing low before thy sacred throne...
How wilt thou claim thy spoils this time, oh ye loftily mighty Queen?
Behold! We do complete each other in the scheme of Divine destiny,
We are each of the other's flesh and blood, and even unto my bones...
I look within thy distant eyes, and I do behold all that thou hast seen.
The substance of thy madness is of a substance that is become mine,
For what canst thou suffer that I do not, in painful pleasure, join as well?
So I too am mad, and very welcome it is, for it is proof that I am thy,
I am but ash in thy roaring flames, and such a Heaven is this, our Hell!
Thy sweetest breath is my perfume, and thy blood was ever my wine,
Thy ancient caverns are the palaces where our nobility doth eternally dwell.
No sweeter nectar hath ever come from the grapes of so humble a vine,
The like of which I hath been blessed to have tasted, thirstily, of thee!
Thou art exquisite beyond all measure; thou art beautiful and sublime,
How can Heaven dwell upon the Earth, how can such perfection truly be?
Thou art terrible and thou art wonderful beyond all the wisdom of time,
Ageless and immortal: ever young and ever alive for all eyes to truly see.
Are we among the Blessed, or shall we be counted amongst the Damned,
I care not, for thou art my Paradise enough, and all that I could desire...
Thou art my Mistress, and I truly do delight in thy every holy command,
To serve another as I serve thee would be my most tormented anguish...
Better to truly die, and to sink in the flames of one's own funeral pyre,
Than never again be able to fulfill and sate thy every glorious demand!
Any Hell of thy creation is the sweetest realm in which one may languish...
So let me burn, ye gods, so long as it be in Her glory, in Her undying fire!
Imperishable and pure, oh Venus, is the glow within thy sapphire eyes,
Before which even the mighty gods do avert their once-proud glances...
I have beheld thy warrior's heart, my own, however delicate is thy guise,
And have I not taken part in all of thy secret revels and sacred dances?
Ah, such a sweet embrace, and how like to Death is Her sister, Love...
Where pain doth meet sweetest release to become thusly a single thing!
I can feel thy passion within me, like a hand within a familiarly fit glove...
Such indescribable joy that this fine sensation doth ever-newly bring!
Be ye witness before, ye radiant spirits that are want to circle above...
I sigh, I die; yet I live eternal that Her praises I may thus forever sing!
Hail, gentle Venus, glorious Ishtar, beloved aspect of my very heart,
Thou art the soul of love, the soul of Heavenly Glory in me incarnate!
We can never be cast asunder, and we may never truly become apart,
For our souls are twin in essence, as ever, each the other's truest mate.
I shall be myself, and in being myself I shall be thee: and so be content,
No longer melancholy, but delighting and delightful, the darling of lovers!
For thou art within me, even as once thou were beyond the firmament,
And mine eyes see clearly, for the first time, freed from former covers.
Published 17th Apr 2013
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17th Apr 2013 11:46pm
As usual your poems are a story in its own...admire your talent, dear Jess. Another for my shelves.
18th Apr 2013 1:05am
I am honored, dear Grace! And delighted that you enjoyed this poem so much. :)
Anonymous
18th Apr 2013 8:16am
Fascinating and amazing tale...
Many stages of life and all the faces of Woman are in this poem. One to read and re read.
Thanks for sharing your magical words, little sister!!!
Many stages of life and all the faces of Woman are in this poem. One to read and re read.
Thanks for sharing your magical words, little sister!!!
18th Apr 2013 9:02am
Indeed, it is as you have seen it, big sister! Many faces and facets of woman, and indeed of my own innermost spiritual self as well, all intertwined to create a fascinating tale indeed, and one I am pleased to see you enjoyed reading. :)
