All Day

30 January, 2007 at 16:16 (Uncategorized) (, )

I pulled on my coat this morning,
Black Leather, heavy,
Ready for the interview that was…
Heavy as the coat, or the clouds today.
And, walking out the door,
I suddenly smiled, as,
My fingers touched a smooth, blue box in the pocket.
I texted a poem,
That was, far too short,
To do justice to,
My sudden halting, at your words last night,
My staring at your quickly retreating back,
As I felt in my overfull pocket,
Something new.
I walked out the door this morning and smiled,
Last night I just,
Out into the street,
Stopped again.
Completely bedazzled, uncertain where I was,
Blinking hard,
Because, it really is a very full pocket,
And surprises make me cry.
Today, I have brushed my fingers over the smooth surface,
And smiled.
Today, I have unfolded the little note, several times,
And smiled.
Some might say secretly.


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26 January, 2007 at 10:42 (Uncategorized) (, , , )

I am surrounded by women who hide things,
Women who closet a gift in a pocket, quite secretly.
A book hidden in plain sight,
An owl secreted in a pocket,
And then pointed out, in time for a facial expression,
To be seen, savoured, remembered.
I am surrounded by women who hide things,
Who pepper walls with their presence,
Most quietly.
Women who cause smiles, that I never could.
Quietly romantic, open, sweetly drunk in,
An issue of the Modern Grocer,
Lies open on the table, and a smile is seen.
In a pocket, long after it was placed there,
Fingers feel an unexpected stone,
And, he smiles,
In a way that is quite unknown to me.
I wonder if I could become,
One of those women,
If I could make someone smile like that.
Perhaps though, I am doomed to be,
An obvious woman, oblivious to,
The hidden smiles of sweetest secrecy.

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11 January, 2007 at 23:26 (Uncategorized) (, , , )

(23:18:44) Me: Descending the stairs was deliberate,
(23:18:54) Me: On my part, at least,
(23:19:02) Me: I could have gone straight down,
(23:19:11) Me: But it was too good an opportunity to miss.
(23:19:19) Me: The look on your face, as you watched her,
(23:19:25) Me: Walk downstairs.

(23:19:40) Other: And what did you think?

(23:20:41) Me: I thought,
(23:20:49) Me: that I had seen that look before,
(23:21:07) Me: From other eyes,
(23:21:19) Me: It could be called commonplace,
(23:21:54) Me: By a man with no conception, of the enormity of what he felt,
(23:22:01) Me: Or what she felt,
(23:22:21) Me: I wonder, if I imagined her eyes would mirror your own,
(23:22:30) Me: As you looked at each other,
(23:22:34) Me: I doubt that I did.

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Love Or Nothing Like It

10 January, 2007 at 21:37 (Uncategorized) (, , )

relaxing in my chair I look at you,
And simply feel,
All that I have felt all day,

Her hair unbound around her shoulders,
A warm glow within me,
And starlight expands from every cell,
Every moment of my being,
Has come to this inevitable point,
Has taken me to the brink,

relaxing in his chair he looks at her,
And simply feels,
All that he has felt all day,

Your mouth smiling at my jokes,
A tingle along my fingertip-toed skin,
And a shivering runs from outside in,
Until every part of my body,
Has come to this inevitable point,
Has pulled my onwards,

relaxing in her chair she looks at us,
And simply feels,
All that she has felt all day.

It lasts from the moment of her smile,
Until her eyes close in sleep,
And we are there,
Beyond her brink,
Warmed all the way from within, inevitably.

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You Took My Arm

1 January, 2007 at 17:20 (Uncategorized) (, , , )

Was that all it was then?
A simple mistake of butch for femme,
When you took my arm the words flowed again,
I’d like to get to know you,
I’d like to think we could,
Paint pictures on the mountain tops,
Or spread out the clouds in verse,
But first I’d like to listen,
If I only may,
The way it was this morning,
Or when you were in my arms yesterday.
To say that you inspire me,
Sounds oddly arrogant,
To say that you move me,
Doesn’t sound nearly right,
But I hope we get to play together,
Out on paper,
The way it was last night.

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My Rusty Knight

31 December, 2006 at 13:42 (Uncategorized) (, , , )

A rusty knight offers me all his gallantry,
If I would just reach out and take it.
A lady writes of shining lights,
And I took your hand eagerly.
I have often wondered what it would be like,
To have a knight in shining armour,
Wearing my favours into battle,
My rusty knight smiles at me,
I know that my smile is his favour,
Is that enough?
A lady may dream of her light,
I am forced to wonder, camp-follower that I am,
What it would be like,
I suspect,
Were you to turn that shine to face me,
I would, on reflection,
Feel more at home with rust.

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Take a look. I’m right here.

15 December, 2006 at 19:30 (Uncategorized) (, )

Do you think that I’m blind?
Or are you just self-obsessed?
(All the best people are, I am myself, you know,)
What am I supposed to see?
A reflection? An evolution?
Some sort of solution?
Is that what this is? Supposedly.
Don’t look to him for that.
Don’t, please, don’t look to her for that.
And me?
I don’t have some complex,
That leads me to a crucifix,
Has me looking down.
My father never forgave me,
But equally I haven’t drowned,
And nor will you.
(Did you really suppose I was blind?)

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Waiting In The Wings

12 December, 2006 at 23:24 (Uncategorized) ()

You’re there again,
Where I wanted to be.
There again, where I used to be.
It was never where I wanted to be,
But it was oh, so comfortable there.
I loved it so, I hated it so,
It was comfortable there.
But you are there now,
After I left in triumph,
I find that this means you have left me,
Before I ever approached you,
I am simply waiting in the wings,
Watching them applaud you.

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19 November, 2006 at 21:51 (Uncategorized) (, , )

I picture you,
Dancing around a bonfire.
I see the friends with which you dally and I recognise them,
But we see them so far apart,
As if a mirror splits us,
Not quite appropriate to be together,
Not now, not then, not ever.

I picture you,
Walking down a lane.
I see the friend with which you wander and I recognise him,
But when you speak it is not what I would say,
As if we were quite different people,
Not quite the friends we should be,
Not down that road, we chose to wander.

I picture you,
Staring into the sky,
Can you see me yet? Did you learn to fly?
Another figure comes, leads you gently by the hand,
As if we are destined, to be apart forever,
Because together it could be so much worse,
You would recognise my friends and see my eyes,
Never quite your mirror.

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Taking Your Arm

9 November, 2006 at 16:35 (Uncategorized) ()

To take an arm,
To walk a little,
And speak
What did I want to say to you?
When we walked gently together,
Oh yes, I remember,
Me too, me too,
And would that have been fair to me or you?
Me too, me too,
I would not have be fair to you,
The last thing anyone needs,
Is another ‘and me’
And what about me?
I am not sure it would have been you know,
Because I would not have been saying,
me too, me too,
So much as former me too, former me too,
And again I am not who I was,
I know my signposts,
I am another me,
Me too again me too,
Would that have been fair to you,
Oh yes, I know, I did it too,
And so let us walk again in silence,
It is much fairer that way.

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