Kate investigated this topic, so I ran with it. She insisted that I clean up some of the more suggestive bits ….

You should probably read hers first to get things in context.

***

For Albert and Beth

It was love at first touch

They both loved the feel of each other

So much

For Charlie and Deb

It was love at first kiss

The touching of lips

They thought absolute bliss

But Eric and Fran

Loved just having a chat

They talked about this

But no further than that

But Gladys and Henry

Didn’t talk much at all

They loved to watch movies

Bogart and Bacall

For Irene and Jane

It was just holding hands

They cherished the love

That so few understand

Keith and Lucinda

It was games. It was fun

They never remembered

Who lost and who won

BUT …

But for Mike and Noelene

It was all about sex

At night when the nurses

Had finished their checks

And then in the morning

Back in their clothes

They love that they’ve done it

And nobody knows

And now for today’s cheerful topic.

Domestic violence.

This inspiration came from Zeina, Here, but she wasn’t talking specifically about domestic violence, just about bullying (isn’t that sort of the same?) So, it’s not her fault. Or mine, I hasten to add. But maybe it’s everyone’s fault if we don’t speak up about it.

So I am.

***

Hardly felt. The first time

Dealt this bitter pill

Still. The worst time

Without it, there would never have been

another.

Nor time to recover

For another. Unseen

This line between

us

The fuss

At night. This fight

That nobody won

Nobody right

Everything wrong

Do I belong?

Far from the light. Far from the sun

Hidden in this dark space

No trace

Of the love that led me here

No choice. No voice

That says no

Only the fear

That keeps it so

***

I’m trying to post a bit more regularly in an attempt to drag myself out of a bit of a fog. Forgive me if the poetry is worse than ever ….

Below is what I sent in response to Stella, who may have fallen in love, or something. She still makes attractive promises, though. Something about unmade beds …

***

Love doesn’t heal

That’s just a lie

Something you feel

As it passes you by

It belongs in your dreams

When nothing’s at stake

It’s real, so it seems

Until you awake

Love’s an illusion

You can’t properly see

Impassioned confusion

Between you and me

Love is a danger

Its misunderstood

A devious stranger

But gee. It feels good.

***

Can anyone tell me what the above term means? Metaphysical poetry, I mean.

I recall, a couple of centuries ago, studying a book entitled ‘The Metaphysical Poets’ and drawing the conclusion that metaphysical poets were just a bunch of dudes trying to convince girls to slip out of their underwear as soon and as often as possible. It is a fairly standard dude approach to life, and one to which I may have once prescribed myself (and, in truth, still do – theoretically, at least) but these particular dudes dressed the argument up in fancy language which somehow gave them literary credibility (though how much action they enjoyed between the sheets as a result is not recorded by history).

So ….

Inspired lines such as

“But at my back I always hear
Times winged chariot hurrying near”

or

“The Grave’s a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace”.

or even

“Thus, though we cannot make our Sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.”

were just another way of saying, “listen, sweetheart – the bar is about to close and, let’s face it, neither of us are getting any younger. So how about it?”

I was somehow reminded of all this by a post from Cyranny who may have been, in fact, alluding to something else. But I realised that 97% of my so-called poetry has been metaphysical – in the sense that the primary objective has always been to seperate women from their underwear.

I wrote back to Cyranny, thus. Because …. what harm could there be in giving it another go?

***

For thee
I’d open any door
Yet leave thee thirsty,
Wanting more
Alas!
I have not long to live
And not much more of me
To give
Alas!
I am beyond my prime
We must hurry
There’s no time
Let’s pop the cork
Let’s take a drink
Let’s not take too much time
To think
Let’s not argue
Let’s have fun
I’ll love you
Then I’ll owe you one

***