Love, Bites

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Oh little horsefly,
Summer lover of skin,
Your bites they can wound me,
But please, dig right in.

Feast while you can love,
While attraction remains,
My heart and my blood
Are reward for your pains.

Have all that you want,
Then vanish from sight,
Fly away quickly,
Until some other night

And these love bites, I’ll keep them
Though they hurt and are sore.
Your bites, they go deep dear;
Give me some more.

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It

Does it ever catch you off guard,
Suck the breath out of you?
Can you feel it living, breathing,
Hear it beating, a drum roar in your ears,
Or feel it, a finger tracing invisible shapes
On damp skin?
Does it steal words from you
Then inject you with thousands,
Or keep you awake at night
Clawing at your insides until you don’t think you can stand it any more
Before it lies you down,
Kisses you
Slowly,
Longingly,
Then curls up next to you
In a dream for a night
And lets you sleep,
Lets you believe
In nothing for a moment?
Does it?
Does it?

Midsummer

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Sunset at Stonehenge Ruins by Ryan Fox

For my most favourite day of the year…

Let me rest my back against your cold stone
And watch the sun rise in front of us.
I cannot hear you breathe but you live
And I feel everything of you as we stand here together, your
Ancient blood seeping into my living veins telling
Of all that has come before
And all that promises to be.

It is a beautiful dawn.

Perhaps later, as the sun dwindles,
I shall lie here in this field of grass
Under your shadow, at your altar,
And watch as the world begins to grow dark
Begins to grow silent
Begins to grow cold,
Is bought to heel again,

And remember this magic.

If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda

What a poem.
It makes you want to embrace its tenderness and cry at its pain.
It might have got to me a little bit…

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Words, Wide Night by Carol Ann Duffy

I came across this gem of a poem…

Somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.

This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.

La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine the dark hills
I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you

and this is what it is like or what it is like in words.

Origami Man

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My man is made of paper,
He is the blank page I write my dreams on,
And re-write my dreams on.
It gets complicated,
He’s complicated,
Or likes to think he is,
But I know each fold and crease of him,
I’ve traced them a million times with my hands
With my mind.
I try hard 
To smooth the edges, the angular corners
That frustrate as I attempt to follow the instructions, like
He frustrates,
Refuses to bend at every turn 
Until, suddenly, there he is
My paper man,
Three dimensional and beautiful,
Words, skin, love, paper dreams, within my hands.

Aloud

I like to say your name aloud.
I love the way it rolls of my tongue, 
To hear the syllables, approximant
In their approximation of my love for you.

Allowed, I would speak your name to anyone who would listen,
Releasing its long vowels and plosives
In explosive declarations of love
That would tell everyone and anyone that 
This man,
This beautiful man, 
Whose name rests impatiently on my lips, 
Is the man I love,
The man I need.
This man,
Is mine.

Aloud, I speak your name
As I walk alone in late evening sun.
I hear it, short and sweet,
Unrounded, closed,
As I disclose wildest dreams
To snag and hang on thorny hedgerows
To wave like prayer flags
For the passing birds and 
Startled fallow deer to hear.

Aloud, I speak your name to the wind,
Allow its pitch and tenor
To be swept away on the wings of warm, invisible currents
And imagine somehow, somewhere,
It will find its way back to you
So you can hear it:
My gentle voice on the breeze
Calling your name softly.