Love Poem

Love is a new city
Walked through street by street
Love is holding hands
Love is aching feet
A new city is uncertain routes
Unhealthy foods, unempty
Seats. A new city is seeing
New things well after you’re
Totally trashed and beat.
Love is knowing home is in
Cities old and new when
The journey home is always
Far, and 19 years too few.

For GP

Remember that night or was it early morn;
Remember how late it was, fourteen years ago?

The North Star hidden, it was too near dawn;
How hard to recreate  it was, fourteen years ago?

Twenty ninth of April, nineteen ninety nine,
What a random date that was, fourteen years ago.

Not chosen by pundits, consecrated by wine,
Stars in love with fate it was, fourteen years ago.

My distant country, my alien name,
What an odd choice of mate I was, fourteen years ago.

You had no money, no job, no prospect of fame,
I saw only how fortunate I was, fourteen years ago.

I don’t feel very different but gawds how thin I was!
Was it youth or the salads I ate?  (it was fourteen years ago!)

Not our quiet church wedding – but colour without pause;
A celebration consummate it was, fourteen years ago.

There were no other homes here, no weddings took place
We never thought  how desolate it was, fourteen years ago.

We never thought of nations, nor religions nor race,
Only how appropriate it was, fourteen years ago.

For me, who argued every step, Who could never stop thinking things through,
What a declaration, an end to debate it was, fourteen years ago.

Now eternity shines in the girls, in afternoons, in words, in you;
Infinity through an open gate it was, fourteen years ago.

Winging It

We’re just two birds flying home
Now that the day is done. Not
Those people in the car, worried
About groceries and dinner; none
Of those at the traffic light, hurried
Across streets by horns and shouts;
Even those young ones, open-haired
In flashy shoes, happy to be out
Of classes, are not us. We don’t gaze
Out of train windows, stiff on shared
Seats; we’re not among the excited
Faces on various selfies and tweets.
No trophies await us for battles lost
And won. We’re just two birds
flying home, now that the day
Is done.

Just An Old Fashioned Love Song

Did he get you roses, my mother
In law asked. No, I said but
We had a clandestine lunch.
Romantic dinner? Enquired
Random family. Well, I said,
Maybe after the movie, the kids
Will want pizza. I don’t have
A gift for you, I said. He said
There was nothing he wanted.
18 years. A marriage come of age.
When talk around the table
Can take you back two decades
And each memory is sharp
Enough to cut through the years.
When every morning begun
Seals the vow of each day done
The roses are in the sun’s
Rise and set, and we know
That we are but young in love yet.

Little Love Song

When the day is done and everyone’s asleep
And the TV blips and bleats like a barn full of sheep,
Images flicker through my heart, where I keep
My little love song for you.

I check my mail, I chat with friends,
Try not to pretend too much or offend.
There’s one conversation that never ends  –
My little love song for you.

Not laundry, not dinner, not homework done,
Not bills, not leaky faucets, not scrambled eggs, none
Of what we talked about all day, silences the one
Thing with words that is true:
My little love song for you.

Love Poem 3

Everyone’s writing love poems
Love letters in the sand
Crossed out lines, rhymes
Underscored. Everyone’s writing
About loss and longing
Mines of lust, bodies unmoored.

Me, I think my love was written
Many lives ago. Poets wise
And wise men smitten have
Wandered this night before.

I look at you and the words that fill
My mind are tried and true.
Content to be their song until
We’re both unmade anew.

Love’s Grace

I don’t know how to be
Anything other than this mouth
That you kissed. I don’t
Know how I’ll see
Anything other than
Your face. I wished
Once that I would be
Loved beyond love’s grace.
Now I don’t know how to be
Something less than this.

“Ah love, let us be true to one another” – a love poem on the occasion of the Blood Moon of a lunar eclipse and a close encounter with Mars

If I said I was mad, would
You cast your face in my shadow?
If it were all I had, could you
Bring back the waters, inspire
And breathe back my madness
To me? If all about me, a sadness
Brought the War God into your arms
Would you stoke the storms with desire,
Ransom your blood to dawn?
If I were the sun that stole your light
Would you still dance with me under
Cover of night?

Love Poem

When we came out it was nearly eleven
There was still light in the sky
We found names for all the blues, seven
Shades between colour and hue
And how the ocean shone with the light
As if it glowed from within, dry
Fire burning like a secret heart, bright
As the lighthouse beam, turning and turning
Lighting the way home. And you
And I, Seeing ourselves outlined
In still black, against the churning
Always forever, always new.