1.
I started loving you on the second day
that we talked and on the third day when I saw
you in the pub, my heart thumped like thunder,
your eyes, a hyssop blue matched the colour of
the portable radio in my doctor’s
waiting room, where I passed the time wondering
what songs entered your ears and inside I spoke
about stress and flu and all things unrelated
to you, because you are a secret.
2.
In acting class I performed not being affected
but it fell flat
and when I fake-kissed your cheek my lips left
a stain whilst snowflaked sonnets fell from trees
outside but
I can’t force you to love me
…can I?
3.
It was Open Mic night when I read my poem
out loud with trembling hands I stared at you,
hoping you knew and then my voice – a squeak –
drowned by the caterwauling couple in the
corner and you turned to see whilst huge chunks
of heart fell to the floor I shuffled them
aside and continued my ode to you
but words
fall
fast
into the abysm
of an absent
audience.
4.
Celestial navigation under strobe
lights, our bodies touch, just once
and my skin ignites at the sublime
geodetic unit of you and me
until
a flash: your body close to hers
and his and hers
I need air
Skidding over frozen concrete
beneath the lowering sky I
leave my writing
to interpret
itself.
Comments
littleditty | April 16, 2011 - 23:16
like this flash - love the ending, fine visual image- with the preceding vulnerabilties, there's just the right amount of penache! Great read :)
insertponceyfre... | April 17, 2011 - 06:09
I agree with little - some wonderful imagery in this poem
oldpesky | April 17, 2011 - 08:16
I don't know much about poetry but I find myself coming back to read your work over and over. Too many favourite lines to quote them all. Just wonderful, all of it.
maggyvaneijk | April 17, 2011 - 10:09
thank you!
MistakenMagic | April 17, 2011 - 16:27
"your eyes, a hyssop blue matched the colour of
the portable radio in my doctor’s
waiting room, where I passed the time wondering
what songs entered your ears and inside I spoke
about stress and flu and all things unrelated
to you, because you are a secret."
- love, love, love these lines, Maggy! Another truly stunning piece. Well done on the cherry :)
Magic xxx
Louise178 | April 17, 2011 - 19:15
I love this Maggy, it's beautiful and it is even beautiful to look at, love the way you have set it out and how at times it runs on, like a beautiful piece of art work if you see what I mean :) gorgeous anyway x
flash | April 17, 2011 - 19:24
Beautifully sad and depressing, i hope the guy wakes up and smells the coffee... or the roses, whatever, he needs to wake up sharpish!! Even i'd notice chunks of someone's broken heart lying skittered all over the place.
xx
Alan
Beeme | April 17, 2011 - 19:58
you are an amazing author! your poetry and prose astound me. I enjoyed greatly xxx
hilary west | April 17, 2011 - 20:50
I love the 'snowflaked sonnets'. Some enticing imagery !
seashore | April 18, 2011 - 07:39
Another gem, Maggy. I thought your last poem was my favourite but now I think this one might just have tipped the balance.
barryj1 | April 18, 2011 - 15:54
I particularly like the disjointed, stream-of-consciousness style. It's not easy to take in at one read but then, exceptional writing makes exceptional demands on the reader. Very nice bit of poetry!
celticman | April 18, 2011 - 20:01
Wonderful.
Richard L. Prov... | April 23, 2011 - 00:17
A wonderful poem, with emotions and reality two parallels moving closer and closer until a union explodes like a nova. Well done. Richard LP
V.C.Willow | May 17, 2011 - 20:47
I don't know what to say except - how beautiful.
Nathan Bednarek | May 17, 2011 - 21:16
"drowned by the caterwauling couple in the
corner and you turned to see whilst huge chunks
of heart fell to the floor I shuffled them
aside and continued my ode to you"
HOW IN THE WORLD HAVE I NOT READ THIS BEFORE???!!!
I am so glad I found your profile on abctales, your work really is something else. I can't even begin to tell you how beautiful I found your poems so far. It's a privilege to be able to read poetry like this. A rare find, but what a gem of a writer you are.
"Skidding over frozen concrete
beneath the lowering sky I
leave my writing
to interpret
itself."
Goosebumps.
Nathan.