Tag Archives: love

Forever Beautiful – Love Poem

3 Oct

What we have is

something good

I can’t deny.

 

You are sweet without

sickly – true sweetness.

Your name means

“Forever Beautiful”.

(I almost cry to think)

 

No, beautiful,

what we have is beautiful,

you are beautiful

forever, in essence,

and what we have is

beautiful.

 

Beautifully sad too

because

beauty is not forever.

 

we have something

something good

something beautiful,

and sad,

because something is for now

and beauty is for now

you and I

we are for now.

But Nothing is.

Forever.

 

 

Reminder

26 Mar

 

I found the hair,

(I am sure it was yours)

in the footwell of my car

as I rummaged for sandwiches at lunchtime.

It must have been there for months.

 

Drawing it forth slowly; long, black,

a slight reddishness –

your Irish quarter, you once joked –

I stared at it a minute or two.

Pausing.

 

Lapsing into a sudden daydream –

and you were there,

with me in the car

as if real.

 

I reached out and put an arm around your waist

(in my mind of course)

as I looked into your face

a moment or two.

 

And then I awoke

to reality and drab peanut butter sandwiches.

But I left the hair in a rear footwell,

Ready to be discovered again, sometime.

 

 

False first impression

17 Jan

We started with a first impression

of love.

An ‘eyes met’ moment of chemistry

said we were linked.

“I knew I had to have you,” you told me after

(you’d had me)

and I liked that,

liked that you weren’t afraid to want,

or have, or give or take.

We fucked over and over

(and said very little after).

I remember dripping sweat on you

us laughing

my sweat pooling with yours in your navel,

or the small of your back.

You were pretty.

And mischievous.

You always smelt of marijuana.

Somehow the emptiness made it fun,

no meaning or pressure,

because we soon knew there was nothing to lose

nothing between us but lust,

and that faint and quickly-fading

false impression of love.

You demoralised me – I wanted more

than sex –

but I would do it all over again without thinking.

.

.

.

I wrote this a few days ago, but it took a while to pluck up the courage to upload it as it’s sexually-orientated (though not really explicit or anything like that). It’s about a girl I dated a couple of years ago. The relationship fell short of what I expected – the way things happened it seemed like one of those things that are ‘fated’ to happen, it really came together against the odds, but then we quickly realised there wasn’t depth to it.

When we first met we clicked, kissed, then a big drama forced it to end before it had even begun. Then a year later we saw each other again. Again there were difficulties to overcome but we ended up together, and it seemed like maybe the whole thing was meant to happen, and that we might be onto something really good. Unfortunately it never worked out, we had nothing in common, and it was empty of any deep meaning. There was a lot of lust though, and it was enjoyable in it’s own shallow way. I don’t think it’s a very ‘poetic’ poem, it’s a fairly unveiled statement of feelings.

A love poem *cringe* ;)

21 Oct

I used to be very embarassed about showing people any sort of poetry I had written – not to mention such slushy heart-baring stuff as this. Now it doesn’t bother me too much, and I think publishing stuff via the net gives a sense of detachment too, so it feels less exposing and embarassing, even though in reality I am exposing my quite bad poems to a potentially infinite worldwide audience (potentially infinite – my blog hit counter registers just a very modest number of people viewing this site). Nevertheless I will still blush if anyone I know mentions having read this blog, but then I tend to go red at pretty much any given situation anyway, so it doesn’t matter.

I wrote this poem a few months ago for my American girl (cf: Your Red Sock, Siren Call). We are no longer together. Really it would increase the appeal of this blog (such as it is) if I spilled my heart on the matter, but I don’t really go in for that.

This is a poem expressing those times when all you really want is her, and you can never quite get enough. I still feel like this about her to a degree, but that’s no use as our differences are too extreme. I will probably write a poem about losing her (again) soonish.

On to the poem itself:

 

I miss you, I want you; yearn to reach out

and touch you, across the

vast grey wastes of water

that divide us;

 

Touch you with my hands

that are always empty without you,

feel the warmth of your skin,

beautiful brown, next to mine.

 

I could spend a lifetime exploring

the contours of your body – every smooth line –

an hour drinking down the taste

of your lips, sweet like wine.

 

To taste the very essence of your being

is what I thirst for,

to swallow every last drop

is what I want – and then more.

 

I want to talk with you, laugh with you,

tell you all the ways

that I love you.

Or just stand and smile for days,

 

in silent heart-swelling happiness.

 

Perhaps I’ll show you poems (better left unread)

or tell you daft jokes (better left unsaid).

Sit with you on a park bench,

lie with you in a soft bed.

 

You make me feel more than lust.

I lie awake and dream of your dark eyes, your lips, your bum;

dream of thrusting inside you until we

together come.

 

I want you to lie in bed

all morning with me,

and we’ll tell the rising sunne

he’s only half as happy as we.

Your Red Sock

11 Aug

This morning when I awoke

the first thing I set eyes on

was your red sock.

The free airline sock

you dried your eyes on

(not having a handkerchief on the plane)

the first time we parted.

 

You mailed it to me afterwards

as a memento,

and sometimes I smell it

hoping to catch some lingering trace

of your deep soul in the tears

soaked into it.

 

Now your head/your heart/your God

tells you what we have is wrong

and I will have you never;

nothing more of you than

this little red sock,

forever.

 

I could use it myself now

to dry my own tears,

but my pride tells me

that would be absurd.

 

This is a draft version, which I might tighten up and change at some point. I wrote it in March this year after I was dumped by a girl I had been having a transatlantic relationship with. I guess it is just one of those lost love poems that get written by a lot of people –  there is no experience like lost love to inspire poetic musings! I have since got back with the girl though (hurrah! In fact I am in America with her now) so perhaps I will write a cheerful ‘love regained’ one at some point.

All comments appreciated, especially as I’m looking to rework this one a little.