Another of those very rare dreams about you last night
Let me be clear, this isn’t me pining, not in the least
It does strike me as rather sad though
Two people who once had so much to say to each other
Can’t find it in their hearts to observe even the social courtesies
Using technology instead of words
Maintaining the most tenuous of connections
Where once the sound of each other’s voices
Was the only sound our hearts could hear
13 August 2017
It’s just a moment of weakness, please don’t respond
Allow this chink in my armor, then move along
Should the same human failing happen to you
I’ll be certain to make some allowances too…
13 June 2017
I don’t think it’s too much to ask
To be someone’s priority
I won’t put my life on hold
To be an afterthought
30 May 2017
As if words might be too little for everything that this is and everything that you are. Easier to keep it all inside, cherished and nurtured. What it is though, this thing we are making, this phoenix rising, my head wants to give words to everything that’s in my heart and mending my soul. I sit with pen poised and lose myself in the thoughts. Thinking, thinking… kisses, such sweet kisses… like Aurora, I’m awakened, and the kiss is the first, of course it was the first, and also the now and my thoughts are spinning away. Pen forgotten, swept up in memories; I marvel at this, at how Life can in a heartbeat, give you back every cherished thing you thought wasn’t to be, couldn’t be… Puppy love, broken hearts, soul mates, lessons that needed learning, lessons yet to be learned. My self cracks open and the words all spill out, written on to your skin these cursive kisses and copperplate caresses… whispered in your ears and finally exhausted because there will never be enough to make up for those unspoken in that space in between.
Those words left over are limitless “I love you’s” and the rhyme is always your name and if I never wrote anything again except for these… I would be content with this body of work.
26 January 2017
I wrap myself in a simple garment of cotton
One that holds in its threads the essence of you
Slipping in and out of my self and my soul
Catching stitches of the past and the present
Gently pulling my heart-strings closer together
Weaving what I once was into who I am now
Tiny healing stitches of you and me
What I am and who you see
Carried in each inhalation
Something both electrifying and benediction
Talisman or lodestone, I can’t be sure
Knowing only that mornings of late
I come awake more fully who I am
More completely my own woman
Wrapped in the scent of a man
26 November 2016
For a year or two before I joined WordPress I wrote privately and on a couple Facebook poetry pages. One page – The Eclectic Poet – is still there, suffering the same neglect that WordPress does but once in a blue… the algorithms that be will cast up a “Your Memories On Facebook” post that isn’t just a photo but one of those long ago snapshots in words.
This piece is titled “Blue” and is one of my stream-of-thought or two-AM-thoughts style pieces. It was written on 17 October 2011 and never shared publicly. I rather like it.
Cut and paste from Facebook, this is “Blue”.
Everybody wants a piece but only on their terms
I feel so… stretched
Pulled thin and transparent
I have enough for everyone if they aren’t greedy
My heart needs… replenishing
Pumped out and labouring
Brown eyes like amber
Tell me all your heart’s secrets
Such treasures preserved
Mahogany, amber, teak, chocolate
Leather, chamois, silk, velvet
blood, wine, cigarettes, coffee
I can’t get you out of my head. Not normally a bad thing. Very, very frustrating today.
When I close my eyes I can see you. Worse. Sometimes I can feel you.
I can hardly stand to be in my own skin. It’s like I have a fever. On fire, shaking.
I want you here… You are what I need to replenish… Fill me up with you.
Such a tangled web we’ve woven
Your benign indifference leaves me frozen
Snap you fingers, demand my fire
This bed feels like a funeral pyre
If you don’t love me, leave me be
You can’t pick & choose the parts of me
17 October 2016
So it seems
I’d sell my soul
If I could only
Make this more
Than just my dreams
10 September 2016
As the weeks go by I’m finding that even the most casual viewing stirs that old something in my deepest core. Some fires can only be banked; never fully extinguished.