A Blessing and a Curse

My little compendium would hardly be complete without two “working” poems which some may have seen in my “other-worldly” publication, Four Minutes Past Midnight.

They each serve a purpose.

The first was written in the original hand of my Great great great Grandfather, and fell out of his old prayer book almost 200 years later, to tell me something. So now I’m following instructions, “do thou repeat”, by telling you!

The second is a protective curse, beyond my own grave,  warning would-be pilferers of the consequences of their own actions, should they wish to “cash in” on my (bequeathed) collection of rare family records.

BLESSING

I say to thee, do thou repeat
To the first man thou mayest meet
In lane, highway or open street

That he, and we , and all men live
Under a canopy of love
As broad as the blue sky above

And ere thou leave him say thou this,
Yet one word more, they only miss
The warming of the final bliss

Who will not count it true that love
Blessing, not cursing, rules above
And in it we work and move

One thing further make him know
That to believe these things are so
This firm faith never to forego

In spite of all that seems at strife
With blessing, all with curses rife
That this is blessing, this is life.

CURSE

Know this:

‘Twas Kilgour sweat these records formed
Which, mixed with blood and ink,
Impressions cast and lives adorned
To forge a mighty link

Try break this chain, it can’t be done
Without sore price to pay
When nothing but dishonour’s won
Forever and a day

Who dares to rob, to trick, to seize
Such avarice shall cost
The one thing you most dearly prize
Will be forever lost

Worse; he that would these works destroy
His very soul condemns
To Satan’s brand of misery
Til Doomsday makes amends

Their destiny’s in Kilgour hands
Right to eternity
As long as waves still lap the sands
Let these ‘Impressions’ be

The Kilgour Curse

Captain Kilgour and the Curse

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Paper Love

Love is in the air

LOVE IS …

 

The original copy of this little poem, handwritten in illuminated calligraphy on scented parchment, was presented to my lady. Who knows what became of it although I still have my calligraphy pens!

PAPER LOVE

Imagine we are making love
Upon this scented sheet
Beneath the soft lamplight we move
Between these lines we meet

Now feel the rhythm of my pen
My urgency to write
The words I long to whisper when
I hold you close at night

Until at last the ink like blood
Explodes inside my veins
Unpunctuated feelings flood
As ecstasy proclaims!

In afterglow of passion spent
This paper to the touch
Reminds you of the love that’s meant
The kind that spells so much

Bruce

 

The same in any language

LOVE