Passion
By bhi
- 269 reads
Passion
Midnight howls and we wake aroused, Rain hard on the panes, beat rising, Stepping into step with our heat, Strengthened through the day past burning...
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- 248 reads
Hiroshima, Mon Amour
My eyes watch the buildings block you, Your scent dissolving, drowned in fumes. Your steps fade, the traffic hisses Higher: the cold freezes your...
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- 334 reads
Anticipating
10 to 9 You left Waterloo at 5 past 8 Must be coming into the station Walking to the car Checking messages 6 minutes max If I could have you now 5 My...
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- 268 reads
The Gigolo's Lament
A passing tilt at T.S.
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- 244 reads
The Face of God - Part 1
i. I look down upon the gathered crowd. Know each singular history. They stare up at me unknowing Of my yet unwritten story, But in the ending...
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- 143 reads
The Face of God - Part 2
ii. He’s lit by the light of seven burnt out candles Lined up before a splintered mirror, Face split across four shards, a blade in another...
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- 272 reads
While walking the dogs I thought about love
The embroidery of love
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- 363 reads
Ripples from the past
Someone threw a stone in a pond a long way away, and the ripples converged in a sushi bar on Tottenham Court Road.
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- 197 reads
the art of loving through frosted glass
6:28- I’m stationed in the courtyard. punctual, 2 minutes later, she appears framed in the bathroom window, undraped, her lines from breast to hip...
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- 741 reads
Lilies: Love's Opening
Standing in front of the florist’s, “I want flowers,” she said, “Lilies. These’ll open in Ireland; only Ones that will; like those inked glories Olga...
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- 256 reads
Daydreaming on Guildford High Street
A poem about love and how easy it is to think about those that we love and lust after
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- 331 reads
Last night we touched
Talking in tongues only the flesh understands We moved pulled by Saturn Driven by the tide surge Into the orbit of Mars Our fingers surfing the...
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- 397 reads
The physiognomy of stones
I can remember my first; bronzed, in the shape of a closed hand, taken from the inner wall of the sleeping hall when the old single storey house was...
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- 736 reads
On the bridge
We met for an early lunch, unplanned - text from you saying, “meet2eat?” I crossed from the north to Borough Market, aromas of the many kitchens...
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- 544 reads
Ostrich eggs and elephant milk
The joy of cooking without a recipe book
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- 574 reads