I have not thrown away
That which you gave me the other day.
A worthless thing perhaps,
Yet hope takes time to collapse.
Maybe tomorrow
With a twinge of sorrow
It will be thrown away.
Or, like a coward
I shall put it in a drawer
Where it shall be seen no more
Save only by me,
Though ’tis better to be free
Of both it and thee.
Sitting in my living room
I hear the wind.
It will be gone soon,
And it’s blast
Will outlast
Thee and me.
Stream of consciousness
More or less.
Heels and shopping deals.
She steals
Away.
He will shop another day
It is a chilly day.
Should I be bold
And say
That I require? desire?
Some heat
To defeat
The cold
For today?
Your hand
Can command
A fire.
Desire burns
Ere it turns
Into pools
Where fools
Drown in sin
While the devil of lust
And dust
Looks on with a woolfish grin.
On this windy day
In April
I can not say
Whether the flowers I pass
On this woodland path
Will stay
For another day.
I think
That they
Are the same as those
I saw before,
Although I can not say
For sure
Whether it be so.
I suppose
That both I and they
Will see the rain’s tears
In future years,
But this I can not say
For sure.
On Good Friday I gave to you
A geranium in a pot.
We agreed on the need for air.
I know not
Whether you are showing care
To that token
Which, although unspoken
You knew to be true.
And now you have your air
And I mine.
I remember you
On my sofa blue.
No line
Was crossed.
The cost
Was a cheap
Priceless geranium in a pot
You may or may not, keep.
Red lights
Bring delight
For a moment,
On a street.
High-heeled feet.
Men are lost
In arms
They can not own,
Then, alone
Return home.
(This poem was inspired by Lorraine’s “Red Lights”, https://blindwilderness.wordpress.com/2019/04/25/red-lights/).
I,
know that ’tis easy, when alone
To pick up the telephone,
Or to click on the internet,
And buy,
Regret.
I think of you
Without shoe
Or sock,
But passion’s knock
Will never be heard
So I shall cease this empty word
Play and do something useful with my day.
But, when in the land
Of sleep,
You may creep
Into my head, for I can not command
The shadows of dreamland
Where passion unlocks
And girls lose
Their shoes
And socks …
