6 thoughts to “Farewell, by Lucy Skipping [*POEM*]”

  1. The exquisite pre-Raphaelite painting, Dante and Beatrice (1883), is by Henry Holiday. It depicts the second and perhaps final meeting between the great Italian poet Dante Alighieri and the love of his life Beatrice di Portinari.

    The story goes that Dante first set eyes on Beatrice when he was nine years old and she was eight. They were in church at the time. It was love at first sight. The two ‘lovers’, it seems, never actually spoke to each other. Not once. Beatrice got married to another man. She remained completely unaware she’d made such a hit with Dante. Sad. This is known as platonic love.

    Beatrice died at 24.

    Dante, who got married himself, proceeded to make Beatrice the inspiration of his poetry. He adored her the rest of his life, keeping her image burning in his heart forever like a candle in a holy shrine.

  2. I don’t believe in “platonic love”. Such as Dante and Beatrice apparently had. For a start, how can it be platonic love if Beatrice wasn’t even aware of being loved? There’s got to be lover and a loved one — and BOTH must be aware that love is going on. In any case, I simply can’t believe in romantic love between the sexes unless there’s an underlying erotic strain there.

    1. Maybe there was an erotic strain. Let’s just hope it it didn’t start when Beatrice was still in white socks and pigtails…age 8! 🙂

    1. @Asthor

      Yes. So do I (believe in Platonic love).

      While piddling around on this site, looking at ‘other writers’, I thought it’d be good to read some of Miss Lucy’s work. (Lasha posted the same picture she posted on one of MINE – boy, do I feel PRIVILEDGED!)

      Anyhow, Platonic love (should I have capitalized that, anyone??)(I think it SHOULD be capitalized) is what ‘love’ is really all about. Otherwise (for a man) it is just carnal lust. I, myself, have been told by more than one person that I am ‘unlucky’ at love. I reckon that means that I don’t stick with it for a lasting, monogamous relationship. Now, as I am older, I am really GLAD I don’t have some grasping old harpie to fight each day! 🙂

      That I like younger women is a blessing – although it took decades of trial-and-error to admit it. (Hell, women MY OWN AGE turn me off, now!)

      1. I’d like to add that, since I am a ‘baby boomer’, women my own age (American women) are mainly SPOILED bitches. They have been bewitched by commercial excess, and expect what is promoted on TV – and promoted by the stupid fucks who don’t really know what ‘Love’ might really entail. They have no staying-power.

        On the other hand, women who were born later are usually of more speculative mind, and more open to a larger range of considerations – making their conversation more interesting and intimate (which is so important for ‘pillow talk’ being a looked-forward-to-rather-than-avoided circumstance).

        While I cannot honestly say there are not women my own age (I am 55)(a youngish 55, though) who I find attractive, they are few and far between. Here, however, I am for the likes of LUCY!! 🙂

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