Jaded I Lay

Jaded I lay prostrate in bands
Constructed of my self-frustration:
The morning waned; so too my elation,
Jade-hued, whose kite flew out my hands.
All joy is rocks, soon turned loose sands
Engulfed by seas’ elimination
To which my grief (buoy’s demarcation)
Holds true: Joy sinks, whilst it expands.
Yet seas reflect gods’ fickle eyes:
Their depths shine out protean might:
Though some drown, some yet cling to life.
So, my jade spirit may surmise,
What fades, may yet return despite,
To expiate all grief, all strife.


An Effusion

Charm so great
As tempts all future days to rise;
Beauty so full
As passed days learn themselves then to despise;

It casts a net
Upon all future days, and yet
They come not forth,
Being both bashful, doubtful of their worth.

It makes of days’
Own evanescence, very shame,
By shining out
Ever and in perpetuum, the same.



For women have there been ten-thousand wars,
Foremost of all being Troy: A thousand ships
Crossed furious seas, for honeyed-seeming lips:
Ships crashed, tossed, trashed, and wrecked upon sea-floors.
Now men both chivalrous, and those base boors:
All have yearned for women half in their grips,
All loved the moving line, from back to hips,
Sending out suspirations from their cores.
So would the revelation me surprise,
Were I to find one whom such rough-hewn passion
Disqualified them then from future action:
Commanded them to kill not, nor to fashion,
(Nor frame) nor thought nor act, that this election,
By vile affection moved, might compromise.


Charles Eager is a twenty-four-years-old gentleman of letters situated in Yorkshire, England.

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