Friday, January 30, 2009

The magic words!

I now today pay homage
to a love long since gone past
for ‘twas the spark of sheer delight
that lit a fire unending
in the heart of one who not before
had felt or said the magic words.

There's something strange in magic words
for they rise unaided every day
to don the armour, take up swords,
and fight to stay alive
and I, the I too weak to lie
quietly surrenders.

And surrender's like a breath of air
that unseen flows around, within,
and fills the gap twixt then and now
to fuel that fire unending.
but there comes in tandem with
the rise and quiet surrender
the knowledge that the magic words
will die untimely deaths
if thrown into the garbage bin
of disavowal.

I love you, yes, I do
but in the time of love and grace
no rise/surrender can ere be
when memory marches to the fore
and I cannot find the face of love
in my memory store!

Saturday, January 17, 2009

To love unseen

The spirit spoke one day, you know,
of love that wouldn't go away
but I have learnt these years gone by
how lies that one still now unseen.

And in that knowing I believe
not ere again will love appear
within the fold of all I am
when I too join the now unseen.

It's like a woman has to be
a store of all her memories
and stand as one distanced, apart,
from what will come most naturally
in that land of the unseen.

How real to me that land unseen
for I can feel today the tears
flow freely down my cheeks unseen
when I give back what was received.

'Twas a lie to say that love won't leave
and a thief who stole my core belief
so know today, my love unseen,
that what was given must return
ten fold, they say, ten fold!

State of grace

She has the eyes of one who's seen
amazing love disappear
around the corner quick full pace
and corners can be death-trap bends
for he who travels far from grace
But grace can stand and wait, you know,
many corners hence from now
but, oh, the trials, the sheer disgrace,
of turning, turning, turning,
like a madman on a spinning top.

It's fun to spin though round and round
and, of course, round, round, again
but finally we all must stop
and stand as one unsteady
before wisdom's awesome door.

And in that moment, days, months, years,
the momentum of the past will grow
and spin the traveller back to base
to start the turn, turn, turn, again
unless, unless, unless to grace
he bows before it is too late.

Too late is strange; it could be now,
it could have been just yesterday
but all who spin must surely hope
love forsakes the corners, bends,
and reclaims its state of grace!

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Half measures

I didn’t fall in love like a regal queen
distant and apart from what a woman needs
or like a cleaning lady, a washer woman, char,
working every day to make love go away.

I’m somewhere in between like on the half-hour
or midday in the middle of the month of May
but maybe I’m a star in the galaxy of heart
close but many light years away from the moon.

I fancy the moon; it reminds me of you
smiling from a distance but essentially unmoved
by the half turn of a lid on a jar of essence
never opened fully to escape imprisonment.

And in this world apart love’s only just a half
of what it’s meant to be and what it’s meant to do
and that’s okay because we too are half of who we are
living in a time where half measures are decreed.

I love in part and just that half no one can ever see
but I can’t say that’s okay; it never is okay
to cut in half a fulsome heart and sup halfheartedly
because it takes the spirit out …
of a damn good wholesome meal!