Some would have us believe that romance is dead, or at the very least breathing its last, yet despite a society that appears to be constantly eroding into a loveless and lawless shambles, the beating pulse of romance remains.
Behind the often rough and world weary façade of our population, buried, bruised and battered, lies a once buoyant bastion of hope, refusing to give in altogether. Clinging to dreams and distant promises of better days, if you listen carefully, you can just about make out the faint sound, far away but ever present and its identity unmistakable. Yes it is, dare to say it, its Love!
The old couple now in their eighties, married for more than sixty years, holding hands on the bus (for those of you that still use public transport), how many times I wonder, have they uttered those immortal words to each other?
Even the sometimes fleeting and foolish expressions of youth bear the same hallmark. Although love is often a silent witness, it craves to be vocalised and verbalised, uttered and whispered and to be shouted and exclaimed from mountain tops!
Love poems, written and spoken declarations of love, have been around for a very long time. Historians believe the first known recorded love poem dates from about 2030 BC. Sexy and sublime or cringe worthy and cheesy it seems the love poem will be with us forever.
I attended a wedding recently and following is a love poem that was read during the ceremony, imaginatively titled, "A Love Poem"
From the confines of her embrace
A belonging like none before.
My cup so full yet even more.
To kiss her tender, gentle face
That reveals her glory and her grace.
A rhythmic dance in perfect time,
Waltz through life and when storms bring strife,
Love's vessel onwards through the brine.
Journeying on from port to port
Adventures and experience.
In poverty, in decadence
Or if tempest descends and courts,
Great hurricanes shall defeat naught.
Arise again, hoisting the sail
Gliding with ease in a heavenly breeze
And love's vessel once more prevails.
Not some tame and clichéd romance
That may flounder upon the rocks
Or fade and die with chiming clocks.
One which stands tall and years enhance
Never requests a second chance.
When Elysium beckons home,
Holding hands in forever sands
Love's vessel sails, new worlds to roam.
Okay, confession time, the wedding I attended and the poem that was read, were my own. What can I say? It must be
the beating pulse of romance!
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