Friday, April 22, 2011

Bear's Bad Poetry Minute

What follows is a reprint of previous writings of mine that appeared in The Gorean Voice, which I co-created and served as editor for a few years. The webzine is long defunct, and the archives of the site are sadly incomplete, but it pleases me to present my thoughts then, to my audience here.

And at the end of my journey,
I stood and watched the sea,
"Come", whispered Thassa,
"Come sail away on me."

"For you I will be slave", she said.
"On me you will be free."
"Come", whispered Thassa,
Come sail away on me.

"I cannot", I answered softly,
"For I am not alone,
I have my land and holdings,
"From them I cannot roam".

And as the sea birds chattered,
and chased off to and fro,
I pondered all the reasons,
why it was I could not go.

While sweet Thassa murmured in my ears;
rolled up and kissed my feet,
I noticed behind, were missing,
my footsteps on the beach.

"You do not need to return", she said.
"You do not need the land."
"You do not need but what I can give,
come to me, and be my man."

"No," I answered softly,
"you do not understand."
"You could never be my slave,
And I, never, your man."

And at the end of my journey, 
I stand and watch the sea.
And lo, the mighty Thassa,
speaks, no more, to me.