Long-Term Love Affair

Long-Term Love Affair

The world stopped,

then changed forever.

Confronted by your

rare, incomparable beauty,

I was seduced

at first sight –

yes, I admit,

by your looks,

those mere externals –

the sleek lines

of your body,

your colourful presence....

I was bold.

We got together.

You didn't disappoint.

Such skilled performance!

You made everything

smooth and easy.

After each encounter

I emerged smiling,

not only satisfied

but further enraptured,

more and more

amazed, thrilled, infatuated.

Then, at length,

the rumours began –

the whispers that

you might be –

oh no, impossible! –

but yes: evil.

However, I'm hooked.

Won't desert you

(couldn't bear to).

I've grown dependent.

So I turn 

the proverbial blind.

Easy to dismiss

all such ideas

of secret wrongdoing

in the face

of your loveliness –

changing with time,

yet uniquely, characteristically 

yours, only yours ...

and the surprises

you still manage,

to my ongoing,

my unalloyed delight.

Once, with friends

around a table,

one of them

said your name.

She and I

and one other 

spoke with animation

of your many

shining qualities, until

we finally noticed 

other eyes glazing,

the bemused silence.

"Oh. Ah! Yes,"

said the technician.

"To you lot

a computer is

just a box –

to Mac owners

an object of

sheer, unbridled lust."

Though it costs, 

I can't regret

that first bite

of the Apple.

Written for Poets United's Midweek Motif ~ Lust

When?

(Trying the Tetractys)


When?

When 

– never? –

will you feel

my eyes on you,

see my hands reaching before I can stop?

How can you remain always unaware?

I want you to

tell me of

lightning

now.

(Want

that you

know lightning.)

But I suppose

you are just someone who likes the quiet.

In Fussy Little Forms at 'imaginary garden with real toads' today, Marian invites us to attempt the tetractys. Mine's a triple tetractys (the idea being that one reverses the form with each new verse).

A Poem About Running

A Poem About Running

You sent me a poem about running

by someone or other – not you –

just because you liked it,

and thought I might too.

Then you turned and ran

far across landscape and sea,

huge strides clearing the distance

to a ship that sailed off without me.

The running of time is uneven

with many pauses for breath.

But you were quick. I don't know

if you ran towards life or death.

You'd expect me to write you a poem.

You know that's what I do.

Here it is, if you ever come looking –

a poem about running, for you.

Written for Poets United's Midweek Motif ~ Running