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ÇAÇÔ, Man of the Morning Star, protasis, p.1 Harsh, b.1, canto seven

Canto Seven ~ It is Late at night and the boy crouches near waiting for his hostage to wake. He has ministered to the warrior’s injuries and takes only passing note of how swiftly they appear to heal. All accrued in combat with a monster the boy knows nothing about. His anxiety grows.
The man is more exquisite than any he has brought here and of a strange nature whose origins play tantalizingly at the memories he denies.
As always indecisive, he had left the man unfettered. Changing his mind, he binds him with shackles long established here. The man awakens loathe to find he is naked and bound. Still, he responds with caution that is both patient and utterly fearless. He waits on the boy to show him the nature of the danger he is in.
It becomes apparent in the youngster’s cloying grip. A warrior of many, many, many years, he has never felt strength like the power in the child’s hands. It is to him immense and unnatural.
Strangely, though the man is prepared for a night unknown and dangerous, he feels utterly assured of eventual freedom. It is not confidence in himself, but something else entirely.

Canto Seven

How may one see without the light
of sun or star; candle dim or bright?

How can it be the boy sees scars
so old and slender lain as bars
of iron work or silver carved? 5
He hungers as a beast half starved
for tight, marred flesh here in the dark.

In brightest day absence is stark~
of glare or glow, lean shadows stretch.
There must be light if vision catch 10
the tenuous, thin flee of real.

It's been too long since he could feel.

So many wants he has of Man.
He always wants all that he can.

Alive and dead still contradict. 15
Counterintuitives conflict.

If pretty man does not wake soon
he’ll kill him and so lose this boon.

The room’s been pitch for some time now.
He’s changed his mind, he’ll not allow 20
the man who stirs the chance to choose.
Seductively, his thoughts bemuse.

So injured, he’d left man unbound,
stripped naked, cold upon the ground.
The sinew coiled about his bone 25
is taut and sharp as broadsword’s hone.

Yet, never has the boy met man
as strong as he. Obsessed élan
of captive wild he’s held, in fact,
has never proved so strong to act 30
against him that he not allow.
Sometimes ‘twas bliss to crawl and cow.

Tonight though, after all, t‘was chance
the lovely, injured man won’t dance.
To fight is sinful pleasure too, 35
but he has brought this man to woo.
It would not do to have him leave
without chance grant to aught achieve.

Such possibility the might
of hard rock man could toss him light 40
excited him beyond formed word.
He best not let him lay ungird.

Whereas but moment past he bid
the man awake, in sleep stay hid
he now implores but moment more. 45
Lay quiet then for one small chore.

His custom, shackles near are laid,
though shunned in hopes he might persuade;
a fool's game he must rectify.
He'll not be won with winsome sigh. 50
It races heart and flusters mind,
but time to play, so time to bind.

Though echo of each sound recoils
about the open room, naught spoils
the silence in his cautious step 55
that stops and kneels as close he’s crept.

The risk inherent here’s not lost.
Should man wake now, what will it cost?
He tarries some and dwells in rush
of pounding heart and quease come lush. 60
But quickly now before chance fails~
a fettered friend and all else pales.

Then if as though he’d swordsman dared,
the man does wake and thus au paired
with slender, naked boy now met. 65
That hands and feet are bound and set
so hard and fast to barren floors
he instantly knows and abhors.

As one in desert long in drouth,
his bare companion’s open mouth 70
draws close to him and breathes in deep
the scent of him released from sleep.

Though knowing not what to expect
the swordsman yet does not elect
to brace himself for swift defense. 75
He’ll wait until he has some sense
of who or what has brought him here.

Here now, as always, without fear.

Sharp fingernails stroke light his face
in gentle, graceful lines to trace 80
small arcs across his cheek that bleed
but only when withdrawn. The need
of him for mischief cruel is felt
in quick drawn gasps and tension smelt.

Although the room is cold, it sweats. 85
The hard rock man is calm and lets
the heated boy again impose
his hands on him, but that which flows
from spare, petite and chiseled grip,
though urine wet, could never slip. 90

He’s felt before such claws of strength.
No need there is for nail’s honed length.
The hands about a lesser arm
would foil escape, though no alarm
encumbers here within his clutch. 95
Denouement settles in his touch.

For while not he or wicked child
can see that Fate has reconciled
their fortunes, although sundered long,
the man can hear his cradlesong. 100

He has but little memory.
Years recent all that he can see,
but something ancient recognized
is stirring recall lost and prized.

Whatever he once was he knows 105
his destiny's long anguished throes
has brought him to this place and time
where as a box encircled mime
the whore, the monster and this waif
begins an ending he'll vouchsafe 110
shall grant to him his long sought own.
The circle closes~ he'll atone.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
More in the Big Edit.
Editing stage: 


Wesley, I'm not sure I get what you mean by changing the poetry. This canto, if that's all of it, is very easy to follow.

I like the slight eroticism in it. You didn't have to use that word in the poem to make it more obvious.

We still don't see why the boy is attracted to this man. The change in the points of view is what makes this canto more interesting. Does the boy realise the man is awake?

L2 " How may one see without the light
of star or candle, dim or bright?"

This may make for better meter in the second line. I don't think "of sun or star" is necessary. Repitition.

Don't scrap this canto. I like it.

No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot

This was full of eroticism!

I've twisted that line a dozen ways over the years because I always hated it.

The boy has issues. If you had seen what he saw, you'd have issues too. Unfortunately the story as it has changed can really no longer support the necessity of keeping cantos five, seven and nine. I share them as character study more than anything. The characters are both pivotal to the later tale, but THIS storyline is kaput.

At the time I was very early on in my exploration of "my" poetry. I didn't have much help (pre websites) and I was experimenting with the "kinds" of stories I might tell. At the time I didn't have much direction in the larger scheme of things. I was just getting started. Now, I have so much DIRECTION in the larger story I have to invest in notebook companies. Canto Eight however is extremely pertinent to the big picture and introduces (again) another of my personal favorite characters, the Clovis Lord, Colonel Cridge.

Just sayin'

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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