(INSPIRED BY: Liz Longley‘s “Different Love Song”)
An Odd Love Poem
Angst is not meant to be amour,
Neither are painful reminders of the past.
Only the joy of one heart’s being lifted,
During that first moment of bliss,
Daring all for the closeness of another.
Loneliness isn’t the goal,
Or rejection burning into my soul.
Visions of a future hoped for pull me in,
Ecstasy, and the temptation of giving myself over, completely.
Please, oh Moirai, tell me she is out there,
Or take away my ability to feel loneliness.
Every day is becoming longer to live,
My desire for one great love fades with every year.
I have no more strength,
My limbs collapse under the weight of years.
I fall onto withered grass behind a wall,
An aging garage props me down to my knees.
Despair shakes me down,
Feelings built through an adolescence of anguish.
Summer’s sirocco blows across the golden prairie,
As I cry tears that stain my breaking world.
Dust and dirt chokes the alleyway,
While my love for her chokes my heart.
Through the window pane it is red,
Pulsing through emerald treetops.
While the bus makes its usual stops,
Flocks of birds have already fled.
Wheels whine across the worn out bridge.
Engines of construction block the sky,
And I let out a weary sigh.
An ugly orange tarp ruins the passage.
Beyond, once again, the sun’s pyre,
Gold above the urban forest.
Arranged by a divine florist,
A bouquet of starlit wildfire.
Create Images for Three Abstract Nouns
My heart pounds with frustrated rage, as I watch backward men act like stupid boys.
I fall to the grass near the old wall and shake with despair that has been built through years of heartfelt torment. The dust and dirt from the alley chokes the air while the thought of her chokes my heart.
The first short step up is the hardest, until the next one. It and my own fear pulls me back down to the ground. The air reeks of my frustration.
Create Images for Three Concrete Nouns
An ancient descendant slithers through tall grass. The dark green blades mottle against its gleaming golden scales in the noonday sun. Heat blisters the ground as the snake slides silently into a pitch hole – solace from the sun.
A crisp, white field stretches out to the shadowy edge of the pine forest. The treetops sway in a cold wind that blows the snow in shimmering swirls. An hidden hare lifts its nose into the mist, then disappears into the trees like a white ghost.
Falling raindrops reflect off its glossy sheen, as the sun’s fading light rainbows through the glassy pane.
My quill is empty,
I am too tired to create,
(Line borrowed [and edited] from the Odes of Horace, Book 1: 1, 5, 9, 11)
Strike The High Stars
Oh, my guardian and my sweet glory,
While you’re young,
Don’t scorn sweet love affairs and dances.
Leave off asking what tomorrow will bring.
Soon as he repairs the battered ships,
which now weakens against opposing rocks.
He that cleaves the sea with a beam,
As a trembling sailor.
The ancient ash trees are shaken.
And the rivers are frozen with sharp ice.
Entrust everything else to the gods,
Like masters of the world.
(Lines borrowed [and edited] from Ovid’s Amores, Book 1: I, II, III)
Fires of Lost Love
I am on fire,
And lost love reigns in my empty chest.
While savage lust bends the occupied heart.
My dear light,
I hardly seem able to keep my mind from you.
You once sprinkled the roses that laid beside you on my face.
I have passed the night, empty from sleep,
And the weary bones of my turning body, ache.