Preserved

To a man of nobility, of wealth and fame
The beauty from a far off kingdom, came

With charm and grace, her lord enchanted
The seeds of love’s compulsion planted

He sought to win her favor day and night
She refused his advances, try as he might

Bestowed upon her diamonds, rubies, pearls
But nothing moved the heart of the obstinate girl

But her resistance only stoked his fires
Finally unable to restrain his desires

He devised and schemed to spirit her away
Prepared a hidden tower for her to stay

But his passion was fierce and he lost control
In his fevered frenzy, her life he stole

Despair and grief, keening ragged breath
He determined to possess her e’en in death

So her blood he drained, replaced with wax
Laid on furs, draped in silk, sealed ‘neath glass

And thus he conferred upon her immortality
That he might preserve her for all eternity

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This poem was inspired by this illustration by Harry Clarke for ‘Morella’ by Edgar Allen Poe in Tales of Mystery and Imagination. And partially by the short story Miss Henrietta Stralson by the infamous Marquis de Sade. 

Luna

Luna, cast your spell for me
Intoxicate the night, will thee
For drugged with love’s anticipation
Long for, yearn for his attention
So drape the sparkling gauze of stars
With the deepest blue of my wanting heart
And let your softest, feathered light
Stir the man of my dreams tonight

I remembered this when I missed the Harvest Moon last week… but the sky was still beautiful tonight.

Romance Reality Check

With the big day for romance upon us tomorrow, I thought I’d revisit this post I did last year. The reality of romance from yours truly, the cynical romance writer….

Ah, love… Who doesn’t love love? But love in the world of fiction is a funny thing. It’s exciting and passionate and heroic or tragic, even. Two deeply flawed individuals meet, they initially hate each other, conflict arises, circumstances force them together. They find common ground, the struggle they face brings out the best qualities in both of them. They fall desperately, hopelessly in love and live happily ever after. Or if the story ends tragically and the lovers are kept apart, our hearts are broken. Nevertheless, happy ending or no, fictional romances are interesting.

My question for you all to ponder is this: Do love stories give us unrealistic expectations about how things should play out in the real world? Maybe. For example, have you noticed a trend toward super romantic, totally contrived and staged proposals? Do we now expect to be taken up in hot air balloons, on rides in horse-drawn carriages, proposed to on the Jumbotron? Seriously, if someone did that to me, I’d say no just to screw with them. Did you hear about that idiot who stopped traffic on a freeway to propose and ended up getting arrested? He’s lucky he didn’t get run over. Moron. Anyway, is this what it’s come to? Having to make grand, sweeping, over-the-top gestures of true love? It makes my eyes roll so far back in my head I can see behind me. How about just going out for a nice dinner? Really, if you want to surprise someone with a ring, do it under the most ordinary circumstances. Or leave the ring in the fridge next to the ketchup or something. That would be surprising.

By now you’re thinking, “Boy howdy, that Meg’s not romantic at all. Somebody musta done her wrong somewheres.” (You’d be thinking that in your old timey cowboy voice.) Ok, truth be told, I have had a couple messed up relationships. However, so have a lot of people and that doesn’t put them off romance. And that goes for me as well. I just think we need to be realistic in our expectations of love in the real world. It’s not all candlelight and flowers and everyone looking like a supermodel. Or Aidan Turner, damn it. (Ross Poldark, is the perfect example of the flawed but fabulous hero.)

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Sometimes the little things can be just as romantic. Like snuggling under the covers on a rainy morning. Or being told you’re beautiful (or handsome) even when your hair is a mess and you don’t have makeup on (or the dude equivalent of that). Or combining your finances and your music collection, even if you hate their Steely Dan albums. (Ok, my Steely Dan albums. No judging.) And kissing even when you’re not going to have sex.

All right, you get the idea. And everyone’s list will be unique anyway. The point is the little things that happen every day can be just as wonderful and loving and romantic as the big shiny things that DeBeers tries to sell you. Or that romance novels lead you to believe. Don’t let fictional romance ruin the real thing for you. Everybody deserves a happy ending.

Love, Meg

What do you think, writers and readers? What does romance mean to you?