Desire. So easily sparked in the hearts of man. An incendiary, smouldering insidiously. Burning.
Temptation: Desire
Poem: Baby has a cold
Baby has cold.
Baby has a cold; watery eyes,
Snotty nose.
Staccato cough. Cough. Cough.
Baby has a cold;
Mucus covered lullabies, halt.
The night-light dim dimming in the day,
And bunny lies lonely by his head.
Baby has a cold;
Baby’s in bed. Out of bed, in my arms.
Baby cries. Red eyes, Rosie cheeks.
Shiny nose. Red nose. Crusty nose.
Baby has a cold.
Poem: Busy
I thought it a shame, as you click clicked
That you missed the warmth of a small body,
And the softest hair at his nape.
As you swipe swiped, I wanted to name you apathy, but for your self-regard.
I swallow around the tight ball
To collect blinks, a lifted chin, a
Precious smile.
You can Like them later – or rather, you probably won’t.
Poem: Are you breathing?
Throbbing and dry.
These are the eyes,
Straining to see you,
Through the darkness.
Dimming then bright.
Those are the stars,
Splashing around you,
Wonky star light.
Poem: Dorset
White horses met us on the shore.
We; wind whipped and wide eyed,
Braced to meet their thundering gait.
Not the romantic amble I’d hoped;
The jutting Jurassic coastline stole my gaze,
The violent air took your words away.
And although your hand clutched mine,
Your wonder was at the force of nature,
Which pushed us together
Like a majestic match-maker.
Poem: Heart for you
I dreamed of one with a heart for you
How i prayed, full on, shopping list
Bespoke boxes, ticks, previewed,
I totally. Missed. A point.
You craved for my heart to be for you
Giving first, faithful, loving pure,
Soulful soul mate, fixed, renewed
You eagerly, stressed the point.
Lies have kept me apart from you
Kingdom thirst, losing contentment
Fearful in love, tricked, askewed.
I selfishly pressed my point.
Love paves my way back to you,
Healing hurt, coaxing perspective
Making me trust, it’s you who’d
So readily made the point.
1 John 4:10
A First…
Dry umbrella, sniff of summer,
An invasion of butterflies.
The strangest feeling
Planning a meeting
By internet with emoticon smiles.
You were late, our first date.
So, i settle with a glass of wine.
Suppress exclamation,
Quell expectation,
But I text ‘I’m fine’.
I like the buzzing, gentle muzzy
Feel of the trendy gastro bar.
Clinging to my mobile,
I felt a little less solo
Then, looking up, there you are.
Lovely sparkle, like a tickle,
You’re a wait that’s worthwhile.
It’s the nicest feeling,
Knowing we’re meeting
By sunset, with genuine smiles.
Poem: You’re just not that into me
I’d resorted to using a website
For lack of natural introductions,
(a curse of a more modern age).
In my naïveté, I thought it more honest,
A chance for virtual reciprocation,
or, where a tangible love could bloom.
So, after searching for the right date site
(and this took much procrastination!)
I found one with feasible Connections,
And that’s when I found you.
I’d shilly-shallied before I ‘waved’
(I felt mechanical in my deliberations)
Heart stomping: ‘This? Antithesis of romance!’
I’d ruled out the sexagenarian,
He had Viagra, but owned no notion
Of what is to be Christian.
And the posh man with the Porsche,
(He earned 70K, and had just won a promotion)
But challenged my personal belief in creation.
You: the frankness of your emails wooed me,
(and, you were blasé about your diction)
You had me, when you texted me in the afternoon.
But then, on iMessage you confused me;
Silence. A sudden loss of basic communication.
Should I Skype you, to find you? Or Vibre, or Text?
No heart-full words on WhatsApp, and we’d not Facebooked.
Oh! Remember when we had one phone?
When there was just one answer machine?
The red light either blinked, or it didn’t.
We have a plethora of forms for expression
In twenty first C – your silence scares me,
I really like you. But, you’re just not into me.
(Inspired by the film, ‘He’s just not that into you’)
Poem: Your eyes disappointed me most.
Two years ago i found out my husband of five months had cheated on me. Happy Anniversary:
Your eyes disappointed me most.
What I mistook for deep wells of honesty,
Were actually fathomless pools of regret.
And, each declaration you bestowed on me
Was your own, furtive lament.
Now i bow to you, awesome piece of work.
And though mascara peppers the porcelain
I think: how clever you have been,
to use that same mouth for her and me
And not stumble on the intent.
Your deception was so profound,
not even the altar could alter it.
Your words still sit like bile on water,
Dirty consequences of your infidelity
Fixed in my heart like cement.
Oh yes, I bow because of you,
Not the last debasement I ever do.
Wine wretched stomach retching,
And a topsy-turvy salute,
To love that came and went.
Poem: The Old Man
Cars and buses, feet on wet pavement,
Swoosh, tap, pace, and rap.
And you, oblivious to time, you lament
At dark windows, docking your cap.
Dapper old man in your battered suit,
Aiming your lighter toward your fag,
A story set in your own head, you salute
All that is familiar to you; a sad,
Weathered building in Muswell Hill.
Lights green, clutch off, and off,
I launch myself into now, and still
Seeing you, rush from all that was silent.
