LOVE POEM #75 – LAST RITES

I didn’t think one stanza would be enough

to tell you how much I loved you,

but now that you’ve scratched out my other lines

there isn’t any room on the page to say more.

——

 

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TRACING (AND OTHER HAIKUS)

Pairs

I see in their eyes

the starlight after midnight

twinkling shyly.

 

Star Gazing

I lie in the dark

on a still blanket of grass

gazing at Venus.

 

Midnight Noises

The rustling night

entices my frightened dog

with howls far away.

 

Tracing

Slowly, I trace you

against the canvas of sheets

under the shadows.

 

Mirrored Sunrise

I witnessed the dawn

as a sunset upside-down

when you were with me.

——

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LOVE POEM #74 – SO COLD

Outline for me the love in your blue lies.

Was life so cold between these crimson walls

that you would search for warmth in winter skies?

Are you so conned by the sweet siren’s calls

that you would cast away your canvased life?

My love has birthed for you the finer things,

and you forget so quick that lasting strife

which bound your comely hands in puppet strings.

Then sketch your will with Neptune by your side

await those waves to take you through the light.

You’ll see those shallow waters swell with pride

and drown you in that cerulean night.

Yet when I see you float beyond that door,

I know you’ll wish that you had stayed ashore.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #73 – HEADSTONE CHATTER

Did you hear they cut down our tree?

They dragged the kids out from the branches

then dismembered it limb by limb

until it stood empty like a hollow woman

then in a final swoop of mechanical justice

toppled her like a pair of heels on a night out.

I took a hike up the wilderness trail last week.

The white flowers were in full bloom;

I still can’t remember what you called them.

I saw a pair of cubs running through the trees.

They reminded me of Taylor and Tom

the way they roughhoused in the grass

like they didn’t even know we were watching.

They always came home with grass stains.

Do you see them anymore?

Anyway, sorry I haven’t been by in a while.

Doc told me there’s only a few months to go

and I took a trip to see your mom in Peru.

——

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PANCAKES (AND OTHER HAIKUS)

Windy Night

Wind disturbs the leaves

yet it is not the trees who

search for a reprieve.

 

Onlookers

From the kitchen door,

I catch pairs of tiny eyes

peeking through the pane.

 

Better Red

Roses in autumn

remind trees who lost their green

the beauty of red.

 

Serendipity

I most enjoy walks

through these warm, grassy fields

carrying my shoes.

 

Pancakes

The syrup drips down

the sides of her tender wrists

as she lifts her fork.

——

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LOVE POEM #72 – THE LETTER

What more can be said after I love you?

The next sentence will always fall flatter

like a wooden block to a bouncy ball,

and yet I always mumble something out.

 

Take this last letter as an example:

a full six sentences followed the spill,

glugging from the water jug of my heart

until the whole page had nearly flooded.

 

The I love you had been washed away, gone,

rinsed clean along with the apologies

and mopped up again by solemn pen strokes

who couldn’t settle for putting three words.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #71 – EVEN AFTER

Even after the last cliché tropes lay burnt and dead in the hearth

and the final sonnets lie buried beneath the brittle house of poetry,

 

Even after the happiness has fled from every ever after

and the storybooks have fallen apart at the seams,

 

Even after the ocean floors have split under the hot rays of a swollen sun

and the fiery rains have extinguished the last breath of earthly life,

 

Even after the almighty gates of Heaven give way to rust

and the unbreakable chains of Hell finally begin to bend,

 

Even after all these things have come and gone,

the length of my love won’t find its end.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #70 – IN BLACK INK

Shakespeare wrote of temperate days

where worry lived for love to fade.

For beauty can’t hope to outlast

the polished sheen of brilliant brass,

nor could the length of love outlive

the earthly pierce of a steel shiv.

 

But even the blackest inks fade,

and all the digging done by spades

could not unearth the word of time

who blanks the powers of our prime.

 

And yet, as aged as we may be,

only in love can life complete me.

——

 

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GALE (AND OTHER HAIKUS)

Privacy

I sat on a bench

confessing love, while a bird

watched me from a branch.

 

Regrowth

The patch of green grass

growing from dead dirt reminds

that life will go on.

 

Narcissus

They were so busy

staring at their reflections

they missed the white fish.

 

Disown

A doll made of sticks

lies in shambles in the dirt

as the girl stomps off.

 

Gale

A wind this restless

engulfs the valley in fear.

Even the stones shake.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #69 – WHISTLIN’ IN THE DARK

I laughed at Don Lockwood for dancing

out on the damp, dimly lit sidewalk

when I first saw him singing in the rain

just ‘cause he got kissed by some brown-haired babe,

 

but when I was walking home last night

after all the lights on eleventh had gone out,

I could hardly contain the skip in my step,

much less the whistle wrenched between my teeth

 

and as I came across a lone, flickering lamppost,

I embraced it wholeheartedly, as he had,

as though it were the one that had shot me full of electricity

and upgraded my black-and-white life to full Technicolor.

——

 

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