Old poems and older poems. The art in here is far more recent - all illustration tiles were made between April 20, 2024 and May 12, 2024.
Some of these poems were published in a chapbook, Eleusinian Mysteries, in 1995, under the pen name Sarah Maddo...
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(Written for the violinist who would eventually become my husband, about a decade after I wrote him this poem, although I don't think it was the poem that convinced him to marry me)
The music is sweet; fair minstrel, play on, Such fiddling makes a fair fool out of me – All unstrung, I become quite undone In this sweet, tender rhapsody.
Your form is fair for all to see, And from your tongue trips alchemy – You play, but this game you've very near won. The music is sweet; fair minstrel, play on.
Come, jongleur, let us hide from the sun, But not from each other; your hands I'd not shun. Your music touches me quite playfully. Such fiddling makes a fair fool of me!
To cease fiddling now would be tragedy; What, now, when the playing fiddles so free? Our mutual musicking has only begun; All unstrung, I become quite undone.
Our play now is sweet, can we summon A music that arcs across passion? Can we learn to love? A fever touches me In this sweet, tender rhapsody.
I smile at your artistry, your form, the speech you say. Content me to trippingly commune With you; the music is sweetly done. Fair minstrel, play on.
