stonepoem : 365

We
only feel love
when we hate
the hateful things
we feel love
when we forget
forgetful things
we love,
when we know
the helpless
fateful
things.

It’s just a word,
that’s all it is.
Not so very different to
the others.
In fact, there are
171,476 choices
we could also
make.
Just another word
amongst the multitude,
that’s all it is -
just a word
and we’re struggling now
holding tweezers
over dirt.
It’s just a
word,
It’s just a word.
It’s just a stupid
word
We are too
ashamed
to say.

It was
always you.
Blue quartz seamed,
and running through
this solid stone of I.
And so behest was knock’d fate
with moon-tugged nights
and stullied appetite for winds
that never blew.
Time-tumbled,
on the greystone shore,
laid down the sighing churn -
locked me in with eon’s hold
of elemental bores.
And so I yearned,
and so I yielded.
And so I found.
And then I knew.
It was always,
you.

When
you were born
I didn’t cry.
I was struck dumb -
could not describe
the feelings felt
for you.
Immediate,
like electricity
running through
my restless back
and flooding in
my empty head,
my vacuum heart.
Something,
switching on
deep inside
and bewitching
with delight,
and sparks
of life -
lightening
my soul.
But not,
like raptured
passion’s flame
or glowing ember’s
warm embrace,
nor kinship
of years
or kindly smiles
from journeys
shared.
No,
this feeling …
It was Instant.
It was Persistent.
It was Beautiful.
And I’ll never forget,
and I cannot escape,
and still cannot describe
beyond mere love
and loving
you.

‘You are beautiful’ he wrote.
Scribbled on a thousand notes.
Trailing morning route -
stuck on posts
and windows too.

‘You are beautiful’ she read,
and saw this thing he said.
Running to her head -
like crushskin bread
and tiny clues.

‘How beautiful’ she thought.
A lover’s kind report?
Or was this last resort?
Either way,
Quite obviously NOT
her sort.

It started,
with a cursor kiss
and keyboard strokes
before they clicked.
Then whispered nights
became the safety net
that fixed the breath
of teasing swoon
and furtive sighs.
But these,
weren’t young fools
or sweat-soaked youth.
No, these souls
had already learned
the dance before -
a thousand times in fact
it should be known.
And every step
was shared.
So they danced.
They really danced.
Not just in notion, nor theory -
but like fiery molecules,
rolling in energetic flux
like downhill streams
rushing to sea,
in synchronicity.
Treading dreams
of flowered sway and
waltzes in the shadows
behind St. Wenseslav’s horse
they whirled and flitted -
not wondering where hours
roam or care to go.
And that was that.
And they both knew -
the moment when
the dancefloor
moved.

This one’s for the two of you
as you rise like stars above,
like prayered hands that clasp
the twin souled magnet night.

This one’s for the two of you,
in kissing wind and shared air,
like gulping silver fish that rush
to capture all, to be the ones.

This one’s for the two of you
who think these thoughts you share
and gaze in pools of eyes and soul,
then fall in love with wonders found.

I saw them.
Kissing in the whispered breeze,
Like tandem bulrush reeds knocked
And fervent in lover’s wind.
The careful stoop of him meeting rise
And hope of her, leaning, bowing, bending -
Brushstroking the air in abandoned pose.
In tender togetherness they moved
Like star-twinned vapour trails,
The ones that fade through necklaced night
Before ascent of heated azure days.
So strange, I thought to see them here
To see such delightful intimacy.
And then, I realised.
These were just
my memories.