literature

13 Poems and Fragments on Love

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Literature Text

Hard worker:

Dedicated darling, bent
over the table; light pools
around your busy hands
like a fairytale shoemaker
slaving in the night.
Set down your tools,
my love.
Set me on your lap
and say
I'm better than anything
you ever made.
That some other who
made me, made me
for you.
Engineer of my heart.



Fragment 1:

Words like "graduation" spill from my heart
and leak through me; hot, dark, red - well
you know I'm not here to
break things, or take apart
the strings of your life,
your happiness glow.



Night Candle:

When you are gone
I cannot sleep;
A child without the
comfort of light.
When you are here
I am the moth
burning itself
on your beauty.
My wings are on fire
the pain is fierce
but dear,
you're pretty
and nothing like
the cold,
uneventful dark.
I'd choose your
heat anytime.
I choose it
every time.



Fragment 2:

How awful now a young girl's rhyme
can seem.
And yet the years have not improved
it much!
Yet how would I have realised
my dream
without these rhythmic words,
without my crutch?



Wedding nerves:

Wedding is coming.
The day to join hands
and swear the oaths -
it scares me,  a little.
All the marbles of
the watching eyes
waiting for me to stumble,
or fumble my lines.
What if I forget
my vows? Mislay
my ring? Destroy
the day, with
my terrible clumsiness?
But darling I know
If I ladder my stockings
you will climb them and
save me.
If I spill an ocean
of wine
you will sail over it
and find me.
If I release
the wrong words
you'll slay them
like dragons.
All I need is to bring
my love for you
to this place
by the sea,
and you'll bring yours,
and the sky will
watch
us join.



Rubble:

Today I've got
my fat suit on.
The scale says
the same numbers but
I can feel the heaviness
dragging
pulling me down.
My clothes still
fit, but my flesh
feels wider
takes up more room
in the bed
in my head.
Squish. Encircling.
I am the blob.
Surprised I fit
through doors,
into cars.
Surprised my seat
belt fastens;
That I can even move.
Tomorrow I know
I might feel slender
or looking at my lumps,
might glorify in them
and call them curves
and sway when I move;
hold all my chins
up high and think
"This is who I am , a
Glorious, Sexy
Woman-shaped thing."
No twig, twice as nice,
a feast, a rich treat.

Today though I've got
my fat suit on
and it weighs more
much more
than stones.


By any other name:

In five months time
I'm changing my name.
I can't say it's
a terrible shame.
I get to borrow
his instead,
transferred in
the marriage bed.
In five months time
my maiden name
all it's successes
dreams and blame
will be gone
forever more
fleeing through
the marital door.
Can't say I'm
really very sad.
Not sure it's
so very bad.
Only maybe rather strange
to be reborn,
to shift, to change.
To become new,
yet stay the same,
in five months time
when I'm renamed.



Advertising:

Woman, twenty (twenty-six)
Seeking lover for some kicks.
(wants some romance, laid on thick)
Sense of humor, curvy lady.
(size 18 and loving gravy)
Animal lover,(13 cats)
snappy dresser(wears odd hats).

Don't want to be alone tonight
(Hoping you are Mr. Right)
So write me, baby for some sleaze!
(just longing for someone to please)
We'll meet up for some kinky fun
(but please don't leave when you are done).

I'm ready, lover
for my part,
Yours (forever)
(Lonely) Heart


Fragment 3; Written in Eyeliner:

No pen.
I want
to speak to Merlin.
Come, make-up,
Magic;
Lend me your
enchantment.
All spells
are done
for love.


Fragment 4:

Why always these dreams?
I dreamed we'd been
thirty years apart
and then I journeyed to find you.
Are you really the subject or
just the face for
the once nameless
love I've always felt?
Just a representation,
giving flesh and form
to an echo of a feeling
to a definition
of a heart.


Sweet Ashes

Dear one, who was dear once.
Your memory is dear now
but not you.
You don't feel real,
a dream,
a fairytale I heard
long ago, twice
upon-a-time
in a book,
The story makes me feel love
but I do not love the prince.
Besides he
married a princess,
left Cinderella in the ashes
all dirty and alone.
But
Sometimes when she sleeps
she sees
the glitter of the magic
and feels
the excitement of the ball
and knows
true love in his arms, his kiss
his eyes.
She wakes and he's
just another illusion
she's seen through -
though he was the best yet.
Though she misses the deception.

Sometimes her rags seem
better than the gown
that wasn't real
and she comforts herself
to think
she had a lucky escape
and on nights she doesn't dream
no spell is cast
and she can face the sun
the next day.

But on those haunted nights
she's there
all shimmering and beautiful
leaving her crystal heart
upon the stair -
He steps on it
and she wakes;
Shattered.




Fragment 5

I like the fact that
you are nice
Your sweetness translates
into spice.
I like your smile and
also too,
your innocence, your eyes
I knew
when first I felt this
that I would
feel it much more
than I should.
I like the way
that you are shy,
I do not think
you ever lie.
These feelings though
are not so good
I like you much more
than I should.



Last resort:


Wicked Witch - that's me
in black, trying to be
alluring.
He merely looks alarmed,
prefers the pastel
virgin
to my sultry, intimidating,
velvet curves.

I hand her
the apple.

Well -

It isn't poisoned.

I'm desperately
weaving
an illusion, a spell
to show I'm not really
all that bad.

He will love me like
he loves her
gentle goodness;
shy goddess.
Female friendship
is just as sweet
as apple juice
running down her chin.
He watches, hypnotized
as she punctures
the skin
with her pretty
white teeth.

My illusion falls around me
like a mirror
like belief
and the spell that I am weaving
spins and shatters
is released.

Tomorrow I
will try again
and then again, again.
I'll hand her the apple
the green, green apple
and hope he'll one day
some day see
the princess deep beneath.

If he does not,
I guess I'll get
more bitter and I wont forget,
the apple that is not poisoned
not today,
not yet.
13 poems and fragments, with a love theme

I don't feel that any of these are strong enough to stand alone, but I think together they have a sentiment running through them which makes them part of a larger picture.

Mostly thoughts and musings rather than structured excersises.
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