14.6.18

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

10.6.18

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).


7.6.18

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