Category: Love

Love is a Triangle

Balanced sustenance –
a recipe I seek, but
my mate is needy,
treasures extremes,
pulls, tugs – despite
the resistance,
the doubt,
I will succeed.

Triangular,
this relationship –
I hold one corner,
a loyal staple, while
he runs on sentiment,
questions mechanics,
manipulates,
threatens to tear
us apart, but
our love –
the pinnacle –
keeps us in check.

(Do you ever write a poem, tuck it away, and then discover it later, with no remembrance of the words or process?  Such is this poem for me.  No idea what spurred it and yet, here it is.  Thought I’d share it anyway.  Thanks for reading. Image is from personal collection.)

No Going Back

Broken, we embrace –
you slowly hole away,
explore a laughing woman,
lie with her of like poetry

When you awake
my self is clouds
their windows dark
but for glass –
no-one could end this.

(Magnetic Poetry seems to keep dragging me into the past.  If you want to try it, the link is here.)

Breeding Season

Golden
this heart, this plea
no makeshift proposal
I am smitten, hard bitten, sold –
be bold!
Be bold!
say you are sold, also smitten
accept this proposal
this heart, forever
golden.

(A mirror cinquain for Dark Side of the Moon’s weekly challenge.  I’ve also worked in the prompts of Fandango (makeshift) and Ragtag Community (bold).  Image is from personal collection.  A coloured version is available on KnutsonKr8tions at Redbubble.com.)

 

Crusader’s Return

This exile –
self-imposed, I confess –
wears thin with age.

Too many winters
braving the cold –
heart’s frozen rebellion
against Father’s tireless raving,
Mother’s queenly submission.

So many moons
engaged in a crusade –
armed with but a hollow sword –
the chill of time lapsed,
irretrievable.

Castle lights are waning,
death lingers in the air,
and only now, on this fateful
periphery, do I wonder –
measure the rage against costs –
blame’s righteousness builds
only walls – faults corpses
rotting either side.

Empty-handed, I approach,
cowed by the enormity of task –
bearing no gifts, no legacy –
only a paltry offering
of forgiveness – pray
I am not too late.

(Image provided by Willow Poetry as her weekly challenge:  What Do You See?  Also linking up with Frank  at the dVerse pub, whose theme tonight is blame and forgiveness.  Ragtag Community’s prompt is fault.)

Missing

Have you seen her –
the child we lost,
the one who lost herself?

born to a sister
breasts not yet ripe
for motherhood’s call

a passenger
on a perilous ride,
sweetness eclipsed

by a cacophony
of raised voices
the wails of women

helplessly trapped
a smothering drama;
how easily she escaped

slipped from our clutches
found comfort in the streets
preferred coldness of strangers

to the raging fires at home;
lost her to the lure of parties,
an elixir for the empty places,

found her once amongst
the debris of discarded needles
and the haze of sexual reek

the golden halo of youth
now matted clumps of shame
her beauty sunken in shadows

we’d taught her well, it seems –
the art of submission, how to
betray the self, embrace defeat

tried to pick her up, create
a milieu of normalcy, establish
homelike roots, but shams

do not last and she ran again
the echo of her absence a hole
ringing in our hearts, we are

guilt-ridden, apologetic, fear
the power of our inadequacy;
try to forget, justify, cringe

for the child we lost,
the one that got away,
the one that lost herself.

(Submitting this for Ragtag Community’s daily prompt: needle.  Computer is going into the shop so I may be MIA for bit.  Missing was first penned in October of 2017.