Poetry in eMotion

Poetic society for all active poetry lovers

Month: May 2016

Love (Spring 2016 topic)

Love

 

 What’s left of an old flame?

A plant bought again, taken care of.

In the air, lingering that name

That used to mean love.

 

What’s left of an old flame?

A thought if those letters still exist

After those days when first got kissed

In the air, lingering that name

 

What’s left of an old flame?

A memory of lyrics that said goodbye

For hesitation’s squander

 

In the air, lingering that name

That did not want to try

Then any longer

 

What’s left of an old flame?

A flashback of palms’ incidental contact

A remembrance concrete or abstract?

In the air, lingering that name

 

What’s left of an old flame?

Raspberries planted and taken care of

In the air, lingering that name

That used to mean love

Lovemorphosis

In mother’s eyes

The LOVE

Which never dies

 

Tied to platonic apron string

The LOVE

About which Plato did not write anything

 

Untamed time of hunt

The LOVE

One wants to stunt

 

Melody of marriage life

The LOVE

Sung by a silent fife

 

The one which is wanted

The LOVE

Romantic but always haunted

 

Hidden in poems, hidden in music

The LOVE

Never and always elusive

Mr C

image

Mr C

What right have you to invade my body?
You who was not invited but take up residence,
Like that of a parasitical worm, feeding off my flesh.
Travelling through my veins like a passenger on a train,
Alight in deep crevices to be nurtured,
By the very pulsating blood that keeps me alive.
Such is the dissimulation of your existence.
Permission of which was not granted in any shape or form.
Silently with stealth you creep depriving me of precious sleep,
Sapping the vital energy I desperately need.
My thoughts; gluttony comes to mind as you feed
I despair what form next your presence will take?
Enduring the hours and days of endless pain.
Is it your intention, perhaps, to render me insane?
A gauntlet laid down, challenging; you dare to make!
Well I’m here now, and that’s what truly counts
With no intentions, to be messed about.

Breda Ware

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