Tag Archives: Lord Byron

from, “childe harold’s pilgrimage,” by lord byron

03 Friday Aug 2018

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  And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
  Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
  Borne like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy
  I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me
  Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
  Made them a terror — ’twas a pleasing fear,
  For I was as it were a child of thee,
  And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.

cockspur

27 Monday Nov 2017

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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With my left hand automatic writing.
Three taps and the spirit begins, hungry

for my attention. We’re all hungering
with need. Bring me my water pipe, my tea,

chaos. What is a ghost but compulsion
personified? I am as compulsive

as it comes. You quote Shelley, I Byron.
Cockspur; we still quote men who don’t forgive,

forget or learn from their mistakes. Spirit,
mayhem, bring your mouth low. I have dead aunts,

mothers, sisters that only you recall.
Tap out my love to them. Be the poet

that I’ll never be; mumbling in trance,
just more wet clay with a lisp and a drawl.

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29 Sunday Oct 2017

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And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
  Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
  Borne like thy bubbles, onward:  from a boy
  I wantoned with thy breakers—they to me
  Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
  Made them a terror—’twas a pleasing fear,
  For I was as it were a child of thee,
  And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane—as I do here.

Lord Byron, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, CLXXXIV

the lord byron #20

20 Wednesday Mar 2013

Posted by in Armenia, Illustration and art

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lord byron 1

lord byron 2

lord byron 3

This was the reason I was sent to Gyumri, Armenia. To teach English at the Lord Byron school. It was a gift from the British government after the earthquake. Turns out that Byron helped to create the first English-Armenian dictionary. There was a statue of him outside the main building. My students had less of an idea of who Byron was, though. One day a boy, Aram, told me “please, next time you see Mr. Byron, tell him he is a very nice man.” I smiled and told him that I certainly would.

the tempest’s scar: lecherousness

16 Wednesday Jan 2013

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I.
Just the merest flutter of temptation
would make a courtesan or a scholar
or a saint wanton, shameless. Lord Byron
knew this. In his Manfred the dead sister
is a symbol of impossible lust.

II.
The mist on the mountain and on the moon
hint at pathways few dare to take. Disgust
is just regret turned in on itself. Soon
the fog of lustfulness, the tempest’s scar,
the night’s charioteer, will come for you.

III.
If you love me, give in, though I am far
away, give in to what we both would do.
You, who are neither nun nor sorceress,
be my sister, my taboo, my lewdness.