Another little treasure…
No matter why, nor whence, nor when she came,
There was her place. No matter what men said,
No matter what she was; living or dead,
Faithful or not, he loved her all the same.
The story was as old as human shame,
But ever since that lonely night she fled,
With books to blind him, he had only read
The story of the ashes and the flame.
There she was always coming pretty soon
To fool him back, with penitent scared eyes
That had in them the laughter of the moon
For baffled lovers, and to make him think —
Before she gave him time enough to wink —
Her kisses were the keys to Paradise.
Not just a treasury but a very precious little treasure too. Published in 1947, the poems may no longer be quite so modern but they are still certainly beautiful. Here is one I particularly liked …. ‘deep is the silence.’
| Moonlit Apples
At the top of the house the apples are laid in rows,
And the skylight lets the moonlight in, and those
Apples are deep-sea apples of green. There goes
A cloud on the moon in the autumn night.
A mouse in the wainscot scratches, and scratches, and then
There is no sound at the top of the house of men
Or mice; and the cloud is blown, and the moon again
Dapples the apples with deep-sea light.
They are lying in rows there, under the gloomy beams;
On the sagging floor; they gather the silver streams
Out of the moon, those moonlit apples of dreams,
And quiet is the steep stair under.
In the corridors under there is nothing but sleep.
And stiller than ever on orchard boughs they keep
Tryst with the moon, and deep is the silence, deep
On moon-washed apples of wonder.
I love you like the promise
That only tomorrow can bring
When today has become lost,
Where yesterday means nothing.
It was a year ago today and I don’t think I can remember any day where I have woken up with such excitement to see someone. As days go, it was pretty perfect. There was you, me, a bit of Shakespeare and whole lot of night…
If I could take back all the misery I have caused for one more night like this I would because when I was with you, you only made me happy.
Are You Still There?
Could you hurry the hell up
Like you are supposed to do,
Watch them break
Hear the deafening crash,
Before the unstoppable rush towards you
Feel the drag of stones as water pulls away
Might pull you under
Feel it break
Over and over
Here is a flag:
Like my skin.
White like surrender,
The whitest sin.
White like calm and white like flame
A cotton sheet
Of white-hot anger.
Here is a flag:
Unfurled with desire.
White sand of time
The truth and the liar.
Questions come like flies on a summer’s eve
To settle on me in plagues of glassy blue,
A loud tinnitus hum that will not leave
Despite every damned thing I try to do.
Do you think of me or not very much
Now? Do you worry that my love is spent?
Do you miss my face my hands my touch?
Are the things you say platitudes or meant?
I do not know. I only know they grow
In number, swarming black against my sky.
I arm myself with weapons, watch their flow
Unstoppable procession, who will die
First? Not my love, I know that’s true
I can’t swat it away easily. You?
So feeling this at the moment but am too sad about the thought of broken spells. Will any of this ever get any easier?
For nothing more than the pleasures past I would sacrifice my family, my god, and my own existence, and still you will not move. I am at the end of my mind, I cannot go back and there is nothing in tomorrow (save you) You that can attract me beyond today. I have listened to the wind, I have watched the dark brooding clouds, I have felt the earth beneath me for a sign, a gesture, but there is only silence. Why do you hesitate, am I a poor lover, am I ugly, am I too weak, too strong, do you know why? If you want me, take me, I am yours…. If you don’t want me, please break the spell that binds me. To cage a wild animal is a sin, to tame him is divine.
My love is yours.
Eric Clapton’s letter to Pattie Boyd
Am I angry with you?
I am angry you don’t love me enough.
I am angry with you for all the times you have left me,
Why not give in?
Am I angry?
I am angry at myself for weakness
For not telling you
Where to go.
I am angry for not leaving first
So you feel the hunger for me,
Out of reach, disappearing.
I am angry at rejection.
I’ve only ever let it happen twice and
I’m angry that it hurts so much more this time.
Am I still in love you?
I love you more than my bricks and mortar,
I love you far more than I ‘oughta,’
Enough for upside down and inside out
If you wanted?
Am I love?
I am a googolplex of love,
The partial sum of how I feel
How far my love will go…
I am love, first and last
I am even just the thought of love
A love that thinks hard,
Hungry for you when you are out of reach.
I am love that will exist, even when chaos is come and golden fields have burned to ash and barren earth because
I am love. I am me.