The Arms of Venus

Feb 7 2016

Love is an act of faith.

So its opposite is fear

not hate.

Like lovers’ leap

an act of surrender.

So while the skeptics are busy

measuring gravity, and mass,

attraction, resistance

the quantum of chance,

he takes her hand in his

and submits;

the giddy drop,

the sudden stop

at the end.

Agnostics waffle

the doubters pause.

Is it just chemistry, lust, wish?

Does he see her as is?

Or is she an idol, a pagan goddess;

down on his knees

before a marble Aphrodite

cold as rock.

While the lovers believe.

You can tell

by their rapturous faces

their weightless walk.

Free of fear, in the arms of Venus.

Saved, despite the odds.

I came up with the first 3 lines – which I quite like – and wrote a completely different poem. Which didn’t work at all, and was soon deleted This second try -- starting with the same first 3 lines -- seems to have come out much better.

I had fun with the religious metaphor. And I’m stylistically pleased with the rhyme that starts around the middle (with quantum, but more obviously with drop) and then runs through to the end:  lots of “aw” sounds, cinching the thing tight. Which could sound as if they were shoe-horned in for the sake of rhyme (or as if I’m showing off my verbal dexterity!) But which I think, instead, manage to sound as if they naturally follow. This is one of the great pleasures of writing poetry: walking the verbal high-wire, but making it look easy.