Imagining Finnbheara

Your words whisp’r allure,

They beck’n my retrace.

My eyes, how they wander,

 Seek solely your gaze


Deep canyons before me,

Owned by ripples darting quick

Met by a smile wry

Made with your fair bright reddish lips


Blessed by heaven’s chisel,

Above the tallest cloud

Your frame stands immortal.

I fall upon the ground.


Whatever moves me thus

Lay not in form alone,

But further in your beauty

Lay your Godly doings so.


Such flawless perfection,

I can never hope to match.

Yet, before your feet,

You reach arms down to me fast.


For I am flawless imperfection,

Not donned by Venus like thee.

One day, I will die, wither,

And join you, beauty I will be.


Grasp’d in tender dissent,

Though our secret’s not kept,

You are, my dear one,

No mere love to be spent...


I stay in your arms

After moons have left dark;

When the sun beck’ns me

I give you my heart!


Out in the light,

you are with me,

But to whom I show you,

You can’t be seen.


Tears streak my pale rocks

On both sides of my face!

I languish my soul,

My dejected, cruelled, fate!


I know you from books,

Their words form your new soul.

I wish to meet you,

The real one, I must know,


I wish you real and your love!

I am a curl’d red fox

In the lone bare-tree woods

Seeking you in that spot


I take the far-look-tool;

I see me instead; Finnbheara! I said

He only turns when I will him

He cannot, for imaginings are dead


For I feel endless moons

Sitting ‘round in snow

I feel you in my heart

I let out a moan


For if you are real,

Your heart is not mine

Fair Man of Fair Folk

But, shame me, your wife’s!


I am evil, I know...

I honestly wish you would leave

A great, royal woman

For a strange commoner like me.


Despite’t, I try;

I throw a hand onto yours.

For I hope you are real;

No real man could I love more!


For all that is you is not set in truth,

‘Tis what I made you be.

For you come solely from me

I made you, ‘magining.

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Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

Powerful expression! 

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