Skip to main content

Love

Unbroken smooth between before after
bruises bashes and shatters
Beyond humid shocking kisses rather
a cool lasting that matters.

You are the one safe place I know.

Fingertip gravity cheeks to lips
Returning coming going and home
Never leaving steadfast praying grips
the exploding expanse of a poem.

You are what I will never give up.

Arlington to Golgotha, offices to factories
Shoulder in, eyes forward, chin up
Quiet unspoken shared stories
lingering lost ring of a coffee cup.

You are my favorite ghost.

(written for One Single Impression)
http://onesingleimpression.blogspot.com/
Labels:

Comments

  1. Harshad MehtaMay 8, 2011 at 12:15 AM

    You are in love. Indeed.

    ReplyDelete
  2. World So WideMay 8, 2011 at 1:55 AM

    "You are what I will never give up."

    Beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  3. AnonymousMay 8, 2011 at 2:40 AM

    I love the form of this poem, the alternating fast and slow rhythms which give it a real feeling of life and the reality of love. It's a lovely and expressive poem.

    ReplyDelete
  4. PremIMay 8, 2011 at 2:59 AM

    Love so intense...

    "You are the one safe place I know."
    Wow,it's just beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  5. AnonymousMay 8, 2011 at 6:00 PM

    The one lines in-between are just beautiful and so meaningful.

    ReplyDelete
  6. SandyCarlsonMay 8, 2011 at 6:45 PM

    A cool lasting that matters.

    The love in these lines is so open and real.

    And yet, the ghost....

    ReplyDelete
  7. JingleMay 9, 2011 at 8:53 AM

    so passionate,
    never giving up,
    bless you.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Holiday Tables

Ours is a song of holiday tables. Clattering chatter of our dining room, Wedding china, and shared fables. This is the history of the baby boom. Clattering chatter of our dining room “Remember?” “No, not him, he’s dead.” “Oh, yeah, too bad. Cancer, I assume.” Auntie Vera remembered a good book she’d read. Remembered? Better remembered than be dead. Uncle Jack’s scotch needs more ice. He has to drive.  His face is looking red. John offers his best Republican advice. Uncle Jack’s scotch needs more ice. Good buddy Bain helps clear the dishes. Pat’s telling a story. We’ve all heard it (at least twice). Jesus! Is it Easter or is it Christmas? Good buddy Bain helps clear the dishes Oh God! Who can eat cake? We’re too full. Around here, it’s like the loaves and the fishes. Cathy knitted that scarf, real New Zealand wool. No way. Can’t do it. Can’t eat, too full. “Yes, Sinatra was great but Elvis was better.” “But      "My real name is Mister Earl”, in the lull.   ...
6 comments
Read more

Optimist

My March Lenten sky plain as a tablecloth, still milk, cotton shroud. Ten Canada Geese charge over the treetops into April's riot. Siphoning my faith straight into God. Tugging the tendons of my pride. Unveiling me; a sculpture of hope rooted in my lawn and reaching into the pockets of tomorrow. Searching for a butterscotch like a gift from Grandpa home from the factory.
4 comments
Read more