Dust that coalesces monomers and polymers the primordial soup out of which life emerged and with it the possibility of love all driven by energies from the sun and I think of you in your constituents in your history in your childhood and adolescence in your maternal role in the journey of time through the maturing years and in all your displacements and in all the challenges that you have faced and the multitude of factors that have brought you so close to me and so dear to my heart so that I feel your flesh to be my own your blood to be the blood that courses through my veins your kiss to be ours your love to be us
At first there was a darkness deeper than the deepest night a cosmic nothingness until all hell was let loose Such was our origin and so I think of you as a pure body of light illuminating my life
As if a ring could open a heart or win a hand no matter the size of the diamond the number of gems
Love is the precious stone the many facets of which light glows within love that girdles the couple love that creates a homely pavilion of eternal dwelling living breathing molecular love so atomically bonded that it can never be sundered love that can cut its way through all eternity
The volatile light of day streams through the room stirs the retina illuminates the objects that lie within : a bed a sofa a table fresh cut flowers in a glass vase a purple allium or a bird of paradise the pleasure of things as they are each precise object or condition or combination or process exhibiting its own beauty facts overshowered with light harmonies of intention and action fixed by first principles And love lies sleeping still naked life in abeyance beneath the blanket the majesty unmatched of the human form body and soul of my contentment warm by my side to have and to hold and to love
In the night silence heart beating through veins of love desire at rest murmur of lips language beyond words hungers in abeyance so she sleeps nights fall days fall leaves fall by the wayside so the body rests secure in its truths its gentle autumns universe of dreams of breath and dilated lungs the frosted glass at dawn the waspish planet Venus rising grace and beauty a lightness of touch her mind her soul the cutting edge
In the slow-dawning day I think of you lying there in your dream-fast sleep I think of your hair spread across the pillow the rise and fall of your breast the innocence of your limbs that languish in rest I think of love and the fortune it brings to our lives the tender give and take the strokes of affection in the words exchanged the muscles that we engage to smile and visually embrace each other
A poem needs so little to grow on the page or a virtual poem held in the mind and perhaps forgotten in an instant but vital nevertheless in that split second of existence
Are roses and rocks and stone the only reality ? I think not In the darkness the mind has mountains we stagger around arms outstretched anxious not to stumble we cling to each other whisper words of comfort reach for the nearest available light that will bring us back to our bodies back to ourselves
In the slow-dawning day a shadowless moon seen through my window and countless homes shrouded in darkness shrouded in dreams Life that teems with life currently at rest virtual life about to be called into action and all in the name of love survival of the species Listen and you may hear the dim-coned bells filling the mid-winter air with the transparencies of sound – make no mistake : time and love go hand in glove are partners and are of the essence and are inseparable
The poem below was written shortly after midnight. I had just returned home from an evening spent with my good friend, the writer, Molly Rosenberg, herself an occasional contributor to these pages. Molly and I met in Peter Jones and dined in the Brasserie there before heading off to the Cadogan Hall to see Steeleye Span in concert. And what a wonderful performance it was: beautiful songs, beautifully sung and the musicians totally in command of their instruments. Notable in the band was the young violinist, Jessie May Smart who played with outstanding verve and expression, adding a rich harmonic layer to the music. At the end of the show, Molly and I, together with Janet – Jessie’s mother – had the pleasure of meeting the members of the band for a glass of wine, and the young violinist proved to be as charming as she is beautiful and talented.
All this by way of explanation: having arrived home late, but not wishing to fail in my commitment to my daily blog, before turning in to my bed, I decided to write and post a new poem using an idea that I had been mulling over recently and no connection with the evening’s performance. Upon waking this morning, somewhat bleary-eyed and a little later than usual, I reread the poem and made a number of alterations. These impromptu poems I post are a work in progress, that’s all.
Love is no abstraction
Who is to say that the stars are abstractions because they seem to be so far away ? Yet they are no more distant than the light in your eyes they are there
in the effervescence of your smile there in every ginger step you take along with every gasp of breath
We are pervaded by starlight we consume it night and day in every possible shape and form and it is there in the ardours of our love in the sparks of ignition that fire our bodies and precipitate our kisses There’s simply no escape from starlight simply nowhere to go
in the cosmos to get away from it
And so too to tender love ! You talk of love but love that’s not total is not love at all : love is binary – yes or no but never partial nor ever maybe nor ever open to negotiation Love cannot lose an eye or a limb and still be love – it is indivisible it is whole or it is nothing at all it is absolute or it is meaningless and it is what drives life forward it is the human expression of sunlight and in its absence lives wither and die It certainly is no abstraction : look around
The sun dragging its heels a reluctant lover loath to leave the bed on this cool December day stillness in the house reality at bay a lone bird somewhere faraway tuning its pipes warming up its vocals The silhouette of trees seen through the window motionless bare branches Foxes have called in the night and neighbourhood cats have frisked each other under a lacklustre moon
There was a girl in my dream her soft supple fragrant body stretched out on the cool white sheet beside me and in my dream I reached out to touch her and now she lurks on the edge of every shadow a pool of innocence in her warm hazel eyes insatiable longing in mine
The flesh is never as naked as the mind that revels in the truth of its dear dreams The breasts the lips the bashful face the snowy cheeks the hollow of her back her thighs her feet and all the secret places I have kissed will one day mingle in the dust of all our dust but the honesties of love braver than the dying rose will outlive our wasted lives
The flesh that every bone does hide will be revealed as barren ash that all too quick is turned back into soil as time delights in turning all that moves and breathes and feels into its spoil
But the flesh is never as naked as the soul the matter that will outlast the form : so gather while you may rich parcels of affection shore up your heart against the vagaries of mood and foul distemper celebrate the warmth of words that bring joy and comfort to your wintry days The blossom that soon falls should not take pride of place over the thorny bush that will rise again when spring returns
Gentle love will see us through the harsh dark days of winter the warmth of your voice the light of your eyes these are not clichés they are what sustains the soul in the withering wind and the biting frost
Gone are the swallows gone are the marigolds and all things are in flux The rocks and stones will pass the rivers will run down stars will burn to a cinder for nothing lasts forever not even time — time will pass leaving only love love is all that endures
So in the cradle of your arms I will nestle until the ice of winter melts until summer suns rekindle the earth’s fires I will bed down in your embrace and sing of love’s sweet sorrows of all that was lost and of all that was won
On one side the long neatly trimmed box hedge a fragility of shimmering bronze in the fast fading half-light of this misbegotten winter’s day
On the other by the lap-panelled fence an apple tree – perhaps a Bramley – from which all but two crisp leaves have fallen but to which twenty or more
apples still cling on for their dear fruitless lives roundly reluctant to detach to tumble gravely to the ground to take their chances in the damp
fertile soil Soon it will be dark : soon the endless agony of the long night will grip those prone to despair while ravenous couples gorge on scraps
of unrequited love Outside the unkempt lawn is marked with narrow trails blazed by frisky cats and foxes that gently indent the lush green grass as they ply their necessary trade
johnjosephlyons 