Poetry of a Conlanger

Friday, April 20, 2007


I am speechless
At you and your mad, hopeless love for me.

Every word you say is thrilling,
each kiss only makes me fall harder.

I marvel
at your enigmatic perfection--
to tender, so strong;
so shy, so confident;
so sweet, so hard.

And you are perfect--
I will never get enough of you.
Do I say these words lightly?
I think not.

It is you I love, dearest,
It is you I crown king-thief
of my heart.


Monday, April 09, 2007


Don’t play innocent, love of mine—
You must have done something.
I am possessed by the thought of you,
Obsessed with seeing you again—
I can’t bear this separation!

Pace, pace, back and forth—
Number the days, the hours—
Only a thousand minutes until I can kiss my beloved again!
A thousand?!
That’s one thousand one too many!

My eyes yearn for the sight of him,
My hands, to hold his,
My lips…ohh, would that Time could pass away
Like dew and morning fog;
Pound away like rain until the hour
He holds me once more.