I care what beauty likes,
And what beauty likes is hate,
For when beauty finally loves
Liking is too late.

Beauty noticed long ago:
The standards of beauty are severe.
I kiss her, I kneel before her;
But beauty loves distantly; she doesn’t love what’s here.

Beauty made me jealous;
I was blinded by my fire,
A flame she loved too much:
Shame overtook desire.

Now what can she say
To family and friends:
Here is my life
And here is where it ends?

Our love was not heroic.
It’s easy to be distracted:
This is why she erred,
And why I reacted.


  1. Ashu अशु said,

    February 10, 2015 at 12:25 pm

    “fire/desire” is, like, Motley Crue-level. Nevertheless, rock on.

    (Sorry, the Crue’s name needs about ten diacritical marks, but I don’t have them on this office computer.)

    • Diane Roberts Powell said,

      February 11, 2015 at 1:27 am


  2. thomasbrady said,

    February 10, 2015 at 1:41 pm


    Desire and fire have been rhymed by Milton, Shakespeare, Keats, Shelley, Tennyson, and Yeats.

    Why give all the credit to Motley Crüe?

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