Canticle to a Lost Love ( locus classicus )

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    Canticle to a Lost Love ( locus classicus )


                          Canticle to a Lost Love

            May he kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for your expressions of endearment are better than wine.
            I opened, even I to my dear one, but my dear one himself has turned away, he had passed along.
             My very soul had gone out of me when he spoke. I sought him, but I did not find him. I called him, but he did not answer me.
             My own dear one has gone down to his garden, to the garden beds of spice plants, to shepherd among the gardens, and to pick lilies.I am my dear one's,and my dear one is mine. 
            He is shepherding among the lilies.
            Come back, come back, O Shulammite! Come back, come back, that I may behold you! 



                                 ( Necy )   

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    lonewolf commented on Canticle to a Lost Love ( locus classicus )

    02-11-2010

    great poem of love, well written and enticing. one of my favorites

    Necy

    02/11/2010

    I really appreciate your inspiring comment Mr. Lonewolf; it motivates the intellect and sparks creativity! Many thanks, Necy

    Artie commented on Canticle to a Lost Love ( locus classicus )

    10-22-2009

    This is a wonderful bittersweet combination of sadness and beauty - I like the cycle of life undertone you express here. 10 from me

    Mandi commented on Canticle to a Lost Love ( locus classicus )

    09-12-2009

    this is sad. is it true? I can see you have had a lot of training. i could learn alot from you.

    rougepriest commented on Canticle to a Lost Love ( locus classicus )

    09-03-2009

    Hi Necy, i liked it a lot it has a classic ring to it and a natural lilt i dont see too often you come across as a trained poet

    Mandi

    09/12/2009

    My thoughts exactly!

    Necy commented on Canticle to a Lost Love ( locus classicus )

    08-27-2009

    poem is very good. its a senstive.. , whole heartedly.- i like it. -- shiv

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Necy’s Poems (9)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Morning Bliss on Beautiful Spring Days ( Lord I Love You ) 2
    Lamentations 7
    Canticle to a Lost Love ( locus classicus ) 12
    Transcendenta
    l Experience
    10
    Memory 8
    Lessons of Love 8
    In My Solitude 18
    True Love 11
    My Eternal Love 7