Zelda's poetry

[Christine Daaé]

Hello, all. I was encouraged to post this English assignment on TPO, so I'll do that now. After all, since it is Phantom-related . . .


Elegy for a Lost Love


The dying day the church’s bells do mourn,
Before dark silence all the earth surrounds;
And then, the evening prayer at once is born –
Throughout the hallowed halls the song resounds.

The Godhead sees the things that are today,
As well as all that ever was before;
And all that will be – so the priest will say,
And pray, therefore, for souls at heaven’s door.

“Dona nobis pacem, Pater noster –”
So they plead for peace – the greatest fortune;
“Dona eis requiem –” to foster
Hope that they may save through their importune.

Can they, through their prayers, also pardon
Him whom I have lost? Or e’en forgive me
My lost childhood? Do they also pardon
Songs that were, or all the light within me?

Oh, but now, the light my spirit sheltered –
‘Tis still giv’n away to shadow’s slighting;
No new spirit can my own beswelter
After violent passion caused my flighting.

He, the light, tempestuous and maddened,
Holds my soul in his cold, iron fist;
But even so, I am still somehow gladdened
By torture, by my melancholy whist.

With all the Godhead as my witness grave,
And all the host of angels at His side,
I swear a solemn oath: that no new knave
Will e’er within my darkened heart abide.

With love as ale, I am a drunken fool;
With love as illness, I am made insane;
With love as death, I writhe in Charon’s pool,
As lost as any ghost, prepared to wane.

And if this is, indeed, what we call love –
My torturer, my madness, and my plight –
Then never will I find a sweeter dove
Upon my spirit’s branches, or in flight.

My love was like the calmest morn of May,
As well as all the things I may call odd,
And also like the darkest death of day;
He was my love, and in some ways, my god.

All the storms that ripped my heart asunder,
All the horror that my soul endurèd,
All the cursèd twilight, and the thunder –
If of death my darling could be curèd,

I cannot say that all the deepest pain
And all the thrall my dearest had me in
I would not all at once endure again
In order to preserve what might have been.

There is no life inside these thinking souls
Without the passion that does it define;
And truly, my dear passion, last of goals,
Defined the life that I could once call mine.

Although my darling hardly ever smiled,
And bouts of laughter were so very rare,
He still was happy – though I may be guiled,
Perhaps, into believing it was there.

More often did he shout, or shed salt tears,
And many times did both at once take place;
For even I could never soothe his fears
Or comprehend the torments of his face.

He was what a person may call gifted;
He was also madness come incarnate.
Even I, his love, had never lifted
All his pain, as red as deepest garnet.

But e’en as my ineptitude was great,
And e’en as I so little understood,
I loved him, which he could not contemplate,
And tried to bring that which was still left good;

And no new love will ever equal this,
Nor any light, or rapture of the Lord
Illumine my uneven way’s remiss,
Or help me cross the chasm I must ford.

So will I now keep my gravest stillness,
Even when the evensong is chanted;
No song of my own is without illness
‘Til the wish to see my love is granted.




The assignment was to write an elegy in iambic pentameter, similar to Thomas Gray's "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard" -- which is an EXCELLENT piece of work, by the way. Check it out, yo.

Anyway. Hope you all enjoyed.

~ Zelda

[The Khanum]

BROO-HA-HA. *Claims first commenty posty...thingy*

Anyways, I hardly need to tell you how amazing that poem is, Zelda darling, but I shall do so once again. Because if nothing else, the sheer brilliance of it deserves more commentary. Anywho, I think that piece is singularly moving. As I said before, it's like something I would find in my English book. My absolute favorite line out of the entire thing would have to be this part:

With love as ale, I am a drunken fool;
With love as illness, I am made insane;
With love as death, I writhe in Charon’s pool,
As lost as any ghost, prepared to wane.

...Because it's so poignant, and I have a thing for well-constructed repetition. And I get the allusion, which is always nice. :) Anyways, Zelda dear, you're already so talented, but even if you weren't a fantastical actress and singer, you could get by on your poetry as well and still be world-famous. And now that I've inflated your ego enough, let me part by requesting more of your work, dammit! :D

[Isabella Delancy]

Woah....I'm seriously impressed. Let alone the fact my own poetry writing is completely crap, the fact it totally rhymed, that it looks like something from a book (*steals this from KT but I entirely agree*) and it makes me wish I could produce something of equal calibre. Heh....not that I ever could.

[The Floor]

Eh. You are all likely aware of the fact that I can't write rhyming poetry without it sounding like a limerick, so me saying my poetry is nothing compared to this is most certainly called for and expected. I don't feel like being eloquent in my praise, though - so you'll have to forgive me while I slip into a bit of incomprehensible chatter.

ZOMGITSSOBEAUTIFULIWISHICOULDRHYMELIKETHAT.

I absolutely enjoyed the iambic pentameter, since it read so easily. Definitely lyrical and enjoyable; I most certainly hope to see more. ;) KT's not joking. You're perhaps the most truly multi-talented person I've ever had the pleasure to encounter.

[northangel27]

Bitter-sweet. Those are the only words that I can use to describe this poem. I found myself feeling both joy and sorrow simulataneously. It connected me to feelings I rarely allow myself to connect with these days. Thank-you Zelda. It was lovely.

[Night feather]

Dude... I seem to recall in my poetry thread you said you were unable to write poetry.

That my friend was a lie, because this i F**KING beautiful! So hauting and bittersweet. You are clearly delutional about your own abilites, because this is gorgeous Zel. I could just feel Christine's pain and it was so in character.

You silly goose, you are clearly exellent at this.

[MystMoonstruck]

I was a high school English teacher, and I'm very impressed by your work. So many people stick with free form poetry, which has no rules. I'm a sucker for a good rhyme scheme and accurate meter!

You had a difficult piece to try to match--very disciplined, eloquent and carefully constructed. Each time I read your poem, I find it more amazing. Yes, your subject is clear--at least to phans; and, it's excellent work.

[MaskedNicci]

Wow, this is GORGEOUS! Well-written, well-said, and all praise be given to you! I kept trying to pick a favorite part, as KT had, but I wasn't able to! There was so much beauty in your selection of words. Lovely job!

[Christine Daaé]

So, I've been lax in posting any poetry, though I've written quite a bit lately. Here's one I wrote a few weeks ago.


Idolatry

Fallen angel, whom I once would pray to,
Oh, how did I mistake you for a god?
'Tis true, you light the path that few have trod,
And have thus dazzled me with truths untrue
By the virtue of that great light in you --
Which truly was a fire, but not a beam
From any sort of celestial gleam;
And since it was a fire, warm and new,
It was quite simple for its easy grace
To charm the moth into its deadly flames.
Now I am quite singed, and so nearly dead,
Yet still my heart is shown from 'neath my face;
But never again will I be so led
Into a fallen angel's hellish games.

[masquerading rose]

I love it! It really reminds me of Erik and Christine (was it supposed to?). I really liked it. Its a lot better than I can do. I don't write poetry or songs well. I can't ryme. I love it! Its dark and eerie, and over all AWESOME!

[Christine Daaé]

More poetry.


I Have Loved You

Oh, you have wronged me, kinsman dear,
So constantly; and I do fear
That this time’s end is not yet near –
Yet I have loved you.

I know not why the tide of fate
Had come upon us so irate,
While my words seem to have no weight:
But I have loved you!

Nor will I e'er know why you chose
A maid as white as whiteness goes
To stain with your deep sin – it shows;
Still, I have loved you.

I cannot help but feel misled
When you did bring me to your bed,
And took my mind, and with it fled –
Why, I have loved you!

But I will not be angry more;
This fury I once gladly bore
Is now naught but a needless chore,
For I have loved you.





A Morning's Perfection

The kisses are many and fervent, and oh,
How I do so love your lips pressed against mine!
Our hands caress and roam and entwine,
While the light of the morning sun filters through the windowpane,
Warming us; we need no blanket now,
For we have the sunlight, and each other.
A few hours of togetherness really does do wonders.

We are young and beautiful,
But I imagine us being young and beautiful
Even when we are old and wrinkled;
For you, my darling, transcend time.

The bedsheets are tangled at the end of the mattress,
Abandoned for sunlight, like the dreams of yesterday
Are abandoned for the sights of today and tomorrow.

Suddenly, this day is too short, just as the night was too short;
And just as I thought I was too short, and too large here,
And too small there, and too much or not enough where it counted.
Here, with you, none of that matters.
It matters not what I thought, only what I think now –
That I am loved, desired, needed –
Only what you have made me believe.

For you do not judge me too short, or too large or small;
To you, I am not too much or not enough,
But in perfect quantity everywhere –
Especially where it counts.

We laugh and sing and speak, elated at it all.
We abandon yesterday, and do not worry about tomorrow now;
For today, the world is perfect, and so are we.





That's all for now. I'm currently working on more, so stay tuned.

~ Zelda

[masquerading rose]

Beautiful, beautiful, Zelda, Honestly georgeous. I really liked "for I have loved you" It was very well written and very beautiful. Your poetry paints a clear picture in one's mind that is imprinted and everlasting. I love your poems. Sometimes they bring me to tears (that's a good thing). Keep it up! I really want to see more.

[Night feather]

Oh these were beautiful Zel darling.

For I have loved you was especially very poignant and moving, I absolutely adored it. There was such a melancholy in it, bittersweet in a wonderful way. Brava dearest

[Christine Daaé]

Finally, something new!


Music

Music, you caress my whole being,
Beginning with the ears,
Working towards the heart,
Until my very spirit is on fire.

How pleasing each note is,
Each tone surrounding me,
Teasing me, before withdrawing
To join the others in prolonging my agony.

My soul is yours, dear Music!
You swell and rise outside me, within me,
Making my heart beat faster
And bringing my breath to a halt.

O, sweet rapture! Sweet torture!
God in heaven, O Music, sweet Music!
I love you, I love you!
I am yours forever!

And now . . . silence.
It is all over now, and too soon is it gone;
But my mind relives each aural touch,
Over and over, until at last I sleep.



~ Zelda

[Night feather]

Hello dear

This was a beautiful poem, yet it seemed more uneven than your stuff usually does, it didn't slide as smoothly as usual. I think I'm missing a bit of your usual imagery, which I think you have such talent for, you describe sensory feelings mostly in this, but without any actual imagery, or perhaps it's just me not understanding the poem. Or perhaps it's because I'm so used to your poems rhyming, which i can't seem to find in this one. Which is not a bad thing, just different.

However, with that being said, I must say that I adore the mood of this poem, it really gave you the feel of something fleeting and elusive, and I really loved the last stanza of the poem.

[masquerading rose]

Zelda,

Are you trying to make me cry?! Geez! I love that poem with my all. Wow, Zelda, dahling! You are so very talented and I only hope that one day, I will reach your ability to make readers tremble with each word and paint a picture in each ones mind. The way you arrange each word in the sentences just amazes me.

[Christine Daaé]

Lizzie -- what I tried to do was evoke the feeling of music as a lover, doing what lovers do . . . if you know what I mean. The activity I'm attempting to describe tends to be very uneven. However, I do understand what you mean, and it seems to me that "Music" would be better off spoken than read in order to evoke better what I'm trying to get across. Maybe I'll record myself reading it . . . who knows.

Christina -- I'm so glad you enjoy my poems! I'm actually seriously thinking of writing a bunch more, and trying to publish them in an anthology. If that ends up being the case, I'll be giving out signed copies . . . I'm not promising anything, but I'm seriously considering it.

So, I whipped up another couple of poems today. This one was inspired by what happened to me a few years ago.


Thief of Cradles

I met you three hours ago --
I think --
Maybe a little less, but it doesn't matter now.

Already you have me in your car --
A bed --
A makeshift bed, where you steal my love.

You covet my innocence --
I know --
You want what does not belong to you.

I am young, far too young --
Fourteen --
And you, you are a thief of cradles.

I see clearly now as I relive --
Each day --
The hour in which you took and left me.

You know what my youth is --
You know! --
But you care not, you rotten *******.

And yet, in some way --
Somehow --
Though much differently, I love you still.

Damn my large, wide-open heart --
Damn it! --
God help me, I forgive what you did to me.

I have few answers to my questions --
So few --
But do I really want to find more?

No, I'll try to let your memory alone --
Forget --
And by God, someday, I will succeed.






The First Incarnation

The Silence is anything but silent.

Separated from my family and my God,
Alone in a maze of trees and roots,
I scream and scream for hours and hours,
So much is the pain of gazing at the stars
From below rather than above;
Of being so suddenly small and limited;
Of having now a short and delicate life,
And a bound body, and a strange spirit,
And no way to go Home.
Screaming is all I know how to do
As terror and hurt overtake my finite senses
And block the simplest thoughts
From my disconnected and half-crazed mind.

Eventually, my voice becomes hoarse
And starts to crack and disappear.
When it is gone, completely disappeared –
Which never would have happened before –
I am forced to collapse upon the cold earth
And taste the salt of my tears, noticing at last
The bitterness of them, of my state.
Moments ago, the shock overwhelmed me;
But now, it starts to sink in, though barely.
I soon realize that I will die soon;
An experience I dread a terrible amount;
But perhaps it will hurt less than this new life –
This life that already feels too much like death.

By this time, I am so exhausted
From screaming and screaming and screaming
That I am able to sleep. I dream nothing.
I forget everything for a while. Sleep is wonderful,
Yet another new state to be in, more pleasant
Than the one I must soon return to.
When I wake, everything rushes back to me;
But somehow, though it still stings,
Though it still is painful, at least it is familiar now.
I sit up, then stand, learning to grapple with gravity.
Looking around, everything seems ill-defined
And foreign, though of course I have seen this before.
Seeing through new eyes makes every sight a first.

After being quiet for so long, I open my mouth
And attempt to sing. The note whispers out and cracks.
I try again, but the same thing happens.
Becoming frustrated, I sink to the ground again
And bury my face in the crook of my elbow
And cry, and cry, and cry. I cannot sing,
Which means, of course, that communication
With anything will be impossible to do.
My tears, however, speak my agony for me.
I wonder: can my family hear me?
Can my Father hear me, even if He cannot pity me?
Have I done something wrong? Do they still love me?
. . . Is this what my fallen cousins have felt?

I wander for days. My feet get lighter
And my step quicker as I grow used to their weight.
I find nothing to eat or drink, however,
Which soon begins to take its toll on this system of mine.
I will die, I realize, if water cannot be found.
So, in the hope of going Home, I stop looking.
I stumble and fall and wait. I wait. I wait.
Eventually, I can feel my spirit rise from my body
And into the air above the trees . . . flying.
It feels so good to fly again!
But the delight I feel is terribly short-lived;
I must find a new body, as I was told to do.
With this second life, I will forget everything.

Perhaps it is just as well.





By the way, I have a DeviantArt account here (http://christinedahe.deviantart.com). Most of my poetry can be found there, as well.

~ Zelda

[Christine Daaé]

Double-post, I know. But I just had to share my latest with you.


Ode to an Innocent

Each step a dance; each word a song;
Each thought a spirit’s sigh –
For her the seraphim do long,
And stop as though they die.

Her hair worn long, her eyes worn bright,
Her face worn in a smile,
No troubles e’er can mar her light
Nor innocence beguile.

Enthralled is all the world with her –
And hell and heaven, too;
Though not to her will they defer,
Pained not by truths untrue.

But strong is she, and so will stay,
Though looking to be frail;
For her heart does lie far away,
Beyond the crueler pale.

Her soul so clear, she seems so quaint
With all her talk of love!
Yet not a one will raise complaint –
But think her from above.

The beaming seraphim adore
This flower blooming bright;
And glory never came before
This innocent in light.



Innocence is not the art of being a naif, but rather the strength to stay unjaded after all life throws at one. I strongly believe this.

~ Zelda

[Christine Daaé]

Triple-post, ahoy!


The Sister

The little girl watches her brother
Draw figures in the dusty road,
Giving life to a beaten pathway.

The teenage girl listens to her brother
Tell stories to the wizened elders,
Giving hope to a fading generation.

The young woman witnesses her brother
Gasp breaths on the splintered tree,
Giving joy to a maddened crowd.

The old woman sees her brother
Take hands with the brightest angels,
Giving comfort to a dying kinswoman.



~ Zelda