Light cast thee away from my night

Tis when fight no more can I

The heavy’d lid of darkness overwhelms and doest creep

Past guard’d conscious to subconscious deep

To demand thine charms back given

To such angel nestled to my side in dishevel

By such haggard devil

Light cast thee away from my night

Release thee do I of your oath of unite

 ere fore of thine flaws evoke spite

And of the shared mirth

Convince thee of my less the worth

Aye it will be soon

a kinship shared I will of Rocky Racoon

Light cast thee away from my night

To watch but a shimmer along that silken neck

Fear have I to behold yet a faintest whisper of woo

Of my will I bid with the adieu

T’ween the roll of die caught am I

Cast upon thy e’er froze soul

Hast a visage most warmed whole

But for a step aside could it be yielded

Light cast thee away from my night

I ask not to unhearten whimsical care

But to stave off a want for just a kiss

 Turn’d to a require that I wouldst miss

To be fated to discontent til graven lie

Light cast thee away from my night


14 thoughts on “Light cast thee away from my night

    1. you’re welcome! This particular mixture of image and words came to me Saturday after watching “Under the Tuscan Sun”. I had spent hours before writing out different scenarios that I could foresee with ‘democracy’ coming to Egypt and the potential impact that those scenarios could have on the Alberta markets, so I needed a little diversion. I had hoped to click onto something on the documentary channel but my television remote, after a few years of being manhandled, has taken to getting its revenge on me by choosing channels at random and refusing to alter from that. I am not so much a fan of the genre of film, aka the “Chick flick”, however this movie and “Must love Dogs”, both which star Diane Laine, hold a little nightmarish sentimentality for me. A couple of years ago, before he died, a friend of mine, each time he would sever yet another relationship, would force me (by force I mean he would buy alcohol and then dramatically intone “this is my demon!” and threaten to pour the liquid libation down the sink. Being the pragmatic and ecological sort that I am, would then stop him, citing that alcohol is not good for the popes and the sewer system for they lack the proper corrosive enzymes needed to break the alcohol down into a less potent ecological factor – however my gullet, based on years over years of field testing, had proven that it was quite capable of negating the harmful properties contained in the alcohol. . I sort of get the attraction of “Under the Tuscan Sun”; Diane Laine plays a newly divorced woman who goes on a sightseeing tour to Italy and on a whim buys a villa there. It is a story filled with the inner torment over seeing only what she has lost then acceptance that she has lost only to realize that what she had thought lost and never to be within reach had been before her, just from a different point of view. If they only would have stopped the movie five minutes before the actual running time, I probably would have fully endorsed it as something more than a “Chick Flick”, but the throwing in of the single woman finding her man, totally destroys it for me. The redeemer for the show is the pure satisfaction of watching was Sandra Oh (I’ve always had a ‘thing’ for Sandra Oh since I saw her stellar performance in “Dancing at the Blue Iguana”) playing Laine’s pregnant lesbian friend. So you see, because of my great and humanitarian care for the future of the Earth, I was forced to become a sentient compost pile) to watch the two movies one after the other while he went in full lament over the intended beau. I shouldn’t really complain about the movie choice – before they came out on video I was subjected to “Pretty in Pink” and “The Breakfast Club” as his break up soother.
      I never could figure out why he went through this process, he had a new boyfriend it seemed like every month; his dating cycle was akin to a woman’s menstrual cycle – for twenty seven days on average it was like he had sunshine stuffed up his ass, but those last few days…he’d be blaming the world for his lack of a lover – though the majority of the time the end of the relationship was brought on by him getting together with someone else for a little ‘pick me up’…then boom, the storm would part and lo and behold he could blind the entire nation of Guam if he bent over. Not that I was much better, though I never went through the grief process involved in the end of a relationship since I avoided them as if they were the plague. Another friend of mine suggested that the reason he and I were best friends was, besides growing up together, because of the same sort of sexual behaviour (though our gender preferences differed therefore deleting any possible crossing of interests) pegged us as sort of amateur gigolos. The friend thought that the only significant difference between the two of us was the psychological reasons behind the promiscuous behaviours. It was his fear of being known that caused his ‘leaping’ from lover to lover; the initial stages of a relationship where, while the person is relatively alien, there is a consistent pattern in being on best behaviour. There is minimal risk during this “honeymoon” phase; the real test of a relationship begins when those facades and the accompanying bravado are slowly shorn from ones’ behaviour. The fear comes from the way the mind plays “what ifs”, such as “what if I’m not really that interesting after a while” or “what if he doesn’t like the way I do this” or “what if the thing he does that I think is so cute now becomes offensive to me later”. My friend was terrified of not having that spot light shining along his sequins, so to speak. Anyway, that’s how “Under the Tuscan Sun” influenced this particular write, it’s more about what I imagine would have gone through his head as he began to feel comfortable with a lover, that inner stirring of perhaps not being the glimmer in that person’s eyes for much longer as the uniqueness of the individual becomes incorporated into the dynamics of coupledom. Sadly this is why people don’t like me to meander, it tends to get long winded…


  1. This was a sadly beautiful poem. I really enjoyed it. I also loved the extra insight you gave in your meandering comment. I actually own a copy of Under the Tuscan Sun and watch it now and then. I believe it’s one of the better “chick flicks”. Good thing they saved the dream guy for the final minutes though, right?! LOL.


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