LISA'S POEMS
PENELOPE'S LAMENT
All day, while the sun shines, I walk and sit in my garden,
And wait - for his return.
Cruel Fate! Cruel Destiny! That you have kept so long
From me my love, my Odysseus.
If he were here with me, together we would
Enjoy this sweet and lovely garden.
While birds play in the wind
I would pick these fragrant flowers and lay them in his hand,
Roses bright as rubies, and tiny fragile blooms of blue and white.
I would weave a golden crown of dandelions
To place upon his noble head,
And I would hear his sweet voice laugh!
Surely, this would delight my love, would it not?
Under yon Oak tree I would feel the strength of his strong arms about me,
and know again, at last, the pleasure of his kiss.
Cruel Fate! Where is he? My Love, my Odysseus!
Cruel and unmerciful Immortals! Have I displeased you so?
I challenge you! Show yourself to me in mortal form
And we shall duel! I draw this sword!
For Odysseus did not choose a fearful and passionless woman!
So draw your sword! Stand before me now and let us fight!
If I win - you shall return Odysseus to me today!
If I lose - then strike me dead!
For I would rather die and rot
Than continue this existence without my Love.
Cruel Fate! Cruel Gods! Cowards all - for you do not appear.
You will not even tell me if he is alive or dead.
But I will dry my tears.
And climb the stairs to my balcony
To look out upon the sea.
The moon is bright tonight;
While it shines I will sit
And watch the sea for any sign of sail.
Perhaps tonight my Love, my Odysseus will return to me.
Perhaps tonight.
♫ ♪ ♫
KNIGHT DREAM
A traveler, young knight in shining armor,
Seeker of the Holy Grail,
Paused in forest deep to rest.
Through dark of night he slept till dawn - and dreamed
Wild fantasies of glorious battles and dragons slain,
Of icy mountains and stormy seas,
Of love and ecstasy, flight and fulfillment.
While he slept, a creature came -
Like butterfly on iridescent wing,
Fleeting, fragile, slender, quiet -
A woman in child-form?
A child in woman-form?
Wild, deer-like and curious,
Seeking refuge in his warmth and fire.
The creature lay down beside him,
Curled in his arms,
She shared his dream, his passion, his body.
The knight slept on,
And dreamed - till morn.
Dawn came, rosy-gold and soft.
Lighthearted and refreshed did the a gentle knight awake -
Gentler than the armored one who paused in forest deep to rest,
And wiser - from the battles he had fought,
And older - than the roaring rivers he had crossed - in dream.
He stretched and shook himself from sleep and dream.
Had they been dreams?
Had he been alone that night - or touched by some small,
strange and unseen thing?
� Lisa Hathaway, 1992