A Woman Wants...

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Wed, 22 Apr 2015
  • 2355 reads
10 comments
 
a man whose hands can cradle a moth –
seduced by the allure of a lamp; 
free it to a balmy, balsam breeze...
 
the same hands
can guide the plough...
 
a man - sweats into the land,
whose toes sink deep, 
deep into God’s good earth...
 
A man who senses the coming
of a storm before clouds 
have even the slightest notion
of causing a commotion...
 
a man who chokes up at the sight of a flock
of wild geese cross the face
of the moon...dead set
for its darker side, 
 
or at a hint of the first green shoot of wheat
breaking through its shell
 
a man – reeks of wheelies and leathers,
Yamahas and smouldering log-fires...
 
someone to teach her how to mend the seams
of life when they tear apart...
 
who speaks the language of winter stars...
a language in which every word – 
a testimony to the largesse of it all...
 
and, with his lips, kiss every silvered rung
of the ladder of her scars.
 
A man who will still be there beside her, 
when she wakes – join her for toast, 
as well as coffee...
 
someone gives her the courage to ask,
 
Milk...and, one lump or two?
 
and is man enough to answer,
 
None...thank you.  Just at it comes,
is fine.
 
A man who will see her through 
a bereavement –
of a kind.
Certificate 15
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Philosophy
Love

Comments

Submitted by VeraClark on

This is gorgeous. So personal and yet so accessible because of the rustic farm imagery, a man that reflects the cycles of the seasons. This man's a dream.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Sure issmiley

 

Submitted by Bee on

I like the way this asks of nothing more than the real thing. It's lovely. 

Bee

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, Bee.  How well you have captured the philosphy of this poem in just a few words. Thank you, so much

Tinasmiley

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

I guess this leaves one with the mixture of tenderness, sensitivity, and yet hard work and perseverance that is needed.
'A man who senses the coming of a storm before clouds have even the slightest notion of causing a commotion...' seemed like a metaphor to me of the fun we've had in my explaining to my husband that it isn't always Help (he refers to is as 'help with a capital H) that I can specify and give him tasks which he is very willing to carry out, but just often need him hanging around when I'm keyed up (eg when giving hospitality) and know he's there watching outover things and on call, rather than rushing off to do something until I think of a specific need and 'give him a call'. He enjoyed getting an understanding of this! Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Rhiannon, you made me smile, and I'm so pleased I was of some helpsmiley  Many, many thanks for your lovely comment.

Tina

 

Submitted by littleditty on

...he sounds lovely! This poem man, I expected wellies not wheelies...bravo! :) xx

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

ld, you are, as ever, inspired;-) xx

 

Submitted by denni1 on

Bloomin amazin .. you're a genious !

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

denni - you aren't so damned bad yourselfsmiley