The Debt

So many rhymes! And here I was just criticizing rhyming. This one is a bit more complex than most, though, and certainly took more work. The continuity, in particular, was troubling, not to mention the structure of the internal rhymes. Now that it's done, however, I find I am relatively pleased. I would even go so far as to say I'm quite happy with the constant mercurial shift between the artificial rhythm of lines and the natural rhythm of sentences. And yes, I know the subject is love, and love has been done to death by poets, but it is a well-known poetical rule that every poet is entitled to an allotment of love poems equal to the number of years he has lived. I'm still working my way up to 27.


The Debt

My heart and hand? A meager fee
and fine to ask, inferior
as common sand or crude debris
when set the task. This pauper, poor,

is so forlorn, for gathered round
and all about my little heart,
full weary-worn, the others bound,
while I, in doubt, still strain to start,

and so maintain a hand to hold -
far less than you could hope to win
from one so plain, and one so bold,
who would pursue immortal skin

as yours, when I could only seize
at purchase on consistent ground,
content to lie and take my ease,
to stay withdrawn. I am unbound

and empty, now. My hand, alone,
holds nothing but a heart to give
to you. Allow, from on your throne,
a gift. Of what? A life to live,

a debt to pay, a rift to fill,
a feeble strength to sacrifice,
and I shall stay your own until
my life, at length, has born the price.