Love, Dementia
Remember.
You loved, remember
When, you loved
How you were loved
When love was first
Born in you
Your first born
Loves you, remember
When you loved
Young love was born in you
Once, remember
Love,
Dementia
Love, Dementia
Tag: Love
Beauty, In The End
Beauty, In The End
Bold proclamations do not come easily to me
A tentativeness attends my tongue
Couched in qualifiers are my words
Shy with if’s and but’s
Strength and power are on the rise
And I can bravely say
Though whispering only, truly, to my God
In prayer
My eyes are set on beauty
Bent in the folds of deep despair and pain
Rising up from ash and cold
Bubbling up like Veuve Clicquot
Dancing in a narrow flute
Beauty, grace-laced beauty
Will find us in the end
Set my eyes on its horizon
Find me always searching there
For
Love, so beautiful through my lense
Lend me Your eyes
So tender, holy and Divine
Rain down your love and shower us
Drench us
With
All that is beautiful
In the end
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
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Just One More
Just One More
Is there room for one more
In a world of crowded words and broken hearts
Why tell another story of the fiery nighttime light
Am I right
Or am I wrong to write another
Poem about the moon
Many will not remain to hear
Captivated
by his winsome wooing,
he carried me from the warmth that was my night
In the quiet of our home
in the quiet of my heart, I heard him speak in muted tones
Many married, many longer, many sit
hip to hip
shouldered
by the night
And we
belie our age with our posture
Heads of every shade of grey
more akin to two
retiring into
Their final moonlit night
Of life
We
Seek nothing loftier
Than the
Fullness of our moon
++++
And so if I fail
To write this poem, to which the world may not respond
One more word gift, packaged by a poet’s bow
that the world
may not want, nor read nor need
About the moon and me
And you
Then it is I who die a little as I live
Let fizzle out
the gift
That was your whispered words
Let them fall into a world, cold and dark
Burn out like every other love that lost its fire
Flame extinguished by
cruel ignorance
of the simple needs of love
++++++
Just one more
maybe just for me
A poem about the moon and you
And how you spoke
gently
Into our love
on one bliss-filled winter’s night
The poets cannot stay away
From subjects on the moon and love
But neither can the moon
Good company, I am in
When I am held so sweetly
by both the moon
and you
+++++
I may never know
If I was right or I was wrong
But I will know
that I was
Simply, loved by you
In the winter
Of our love
Once more
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Table For Two
Welcome to Day Fourteen. Spoiler alert. Tomorrow’s post is scheduled for prose. The poems have asked for hump day off. Thank you for joining me.
Table For Two
You could cut the space between
them with a serrated bread knife
hard and crusty silence
like the Berlin wall
stone cold divider of love
if you could cut it at all
the art of eavesdropping,
which I have down to a science
tells me that the love has faded,
died on the vine
shriveled up and gone
for goodness sakes
go back and pick a memory, ya’ll
discuss it till you are
blue in the face
and then say
i love you
like you mean it
pick a good one
like the one when your lips first
“Said I do”
young and blushing
red hot with new love
then get the check
and go
go
back to speaking like you did
those first thirty years
before the love
became so damn stinkin’ quiet
Your well-done steak
With Heinz
Can wait
But your love
Needs
Tabasco
Go
Before it takes a sledge hammer
To
Tear down that wall
And you are left
Deafened
By the silence you once
feared
elizabeth w. marshall 