Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

Friday, September 20, 2019

ON THE FREE FAKE TROLLEY OF CHARLOTTESVILLE


I am ashamed
That I am mostly disgusted
By two fortyish lovers
I scrutinized on the city's free fake trolley.
She scoured out his nose and ears
Over and over, devotedly,
Wiping the goo on her shorts.
Did she judge the goo to be his gift
Or at least her exemplary achievement?
She is as focused as a  deluxe surgeon.
Her not-ugly face never gets bored.
His head relaxes on her steadfast lap.
In his near-ugliness he is smiling.
The process lasts throughout the ride.
He also does not get bored.
She is the mother cat whose job
Is to preciously clean her kitten without stop;
Or is this vision
A sort of Pieta'?
Are they utterly in love,
In love above most other lovers?
Are they so free they can do such stuff in public;
Or are they bizarrely unashamed?
I devoted myself to staring:
Can my disgust be discussed?
Or do I admire such ugh-ness?
The clothing of the unwary  pair
Verged on being rags.

Will they be inexplicable icons
In my brain?

           © Stephen Margulies, 2019


CAT Trolley, courtesy of nbc29.com


Tuesday, September 10, 2019

Natural Love

Great bursts of chemical oozings
slide through ventricles
and disperse,
unhinge my sternum
and part my lungs
so my heart can push
at the thin skin of my chest.
My cranium becomes elastic, inflates,
its crown swelling - 
a transparent formation of overhead eyestalks -
giving me dizzying heightened sight.
My brain swims in its extra space.
My eyeballs bob back
and bounce off my
frozen-taut tongue.
I hear each deafening slide of cloth,
each rock-grinding foot shuffle
and each cyclonic breath-breeze.
I can hear your hair growing.
I can smell your hair growing.

The veins of my limbs
sprout bristles like crystals,
that sting then leave a numb ache.
Arms weakly waver and sway,
palms glowing warm
emitting waves of wet essence,
while cool fingers wake into
novel functions as antennae,
extending to sense airborne clues,
seeking any molecule of you.

My feet have grown suction cups.
I'm vacuumed to the spot.
It is all so lovely. 
And how I long for more.

           © Laura Seale,  2019


Jellyfish, photo by CarbonNYC
from Wikimedia Commons

Tuesday, June 25, 2019

Persist, Resist: 2019, Facing Evil

I will not cease from Mental Fight
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green & pleasant land.
-----Willian Blake
(To be human in a hurt world is to evolve from being a tear because aware to
being a wound seeking others hurt by terror to becoming ash yet we revive to in peace resist)

Once we were a walking teardrop
Though we shone while we thought.
Then we were a walking wound
Wound wooing other wounds
Wound aiding other wounds
Wound asking other wounds
"Are you truly a wound too?"
Now we are ashes moaning with memory--
Are ashes anything other than moans?
Yet love exists even in ashes
Love may persist even in ashes.
May the Phoenix be formed
Out of our ashes
Whose feathers flash through the air
Like Blakean blades!


      © Stephen Margulies, 2019

"The Garden of Love," by William Blake
from Wikimedia Commons

Monday, October 2, 2017

BESIDE THE WATER’S EDGE

HOW GOOD IT IS
TO STOP BESIDE THE WATER’S EDGE!

I CAN’T FEEL WHAT DAY THIS IS.

I ONLY KNOW THE SUN UPON MY FACE
AND THAT EVERY TIME I RETURN TO THIS PLACE,
RIVER LOW OR HIGH, THAT
I AM ONLY I.

BARBED WIRE HAS BEEN DEVOURED 
BY THIS RIVERTREE--

WILL IT BE SO 
WITH OLD BOUNDARIES AND ME?

WILL IT BE SO WITH OLD ANGER?

ONLY LOVE SHOULD BE GUARANTEED
THE HONOR OF ETERNITY--

NOTHING ELSE COULD MATTER!


© Gerry Sackett, 2017

Entrapment, Oak, Wire, and Mist
Photo by Bob Embleton
from Wikimedia Commons

Monday, July 31, 2017

Grooming the Herd in Spring

Beneath these gloved hands
Cowhide on horsehide inseparable
The winter coats fly off in tufts
Revealing the darker the sleeker
The more radiant summer skin.

Down flanks rubbing dried mud
From hocks and fetlocks brushing
Botfly larvae from cannon bones
This heifer’s hide gives its all
In an anointing of earth to earth.

Tonight out in the eastern paddock 
They graze on in watery darkness
Invisible yet shining with a patina 
That only open-handed love knows
How to coax again when the rain 
and the new mud come.


© Bill Prindle, 2017

Arab Simeon Stud
Photo by Jimmy Baikovicius
from Wikimedia Commons

Monday, June 22, 2015

The Road

In the dark
I drive over timeless mountains.
The sky exposes herself to me
In falling starlight and dreamy wisps
Of moonlight.
The road unfolds before me,
Telling a story I discover in each moment.
I know the path well.
I have driven here before,
Finding your love again and again throughout time.
In pauses between conversations with strangers I call friends;
In the quiet of night when only the insects speak to me,
My mind wanders back to you.
In these day dreams,
The timeless mountains become the curl of your hair
Over my naked arm while you sleep.
The night sky and the dreamy wisps of moonlight
Become the remembered depth of your eyes
With the pale reflection of me in their earthy circumference.
In these moments
The stars tell stories of constellations
We have not yet imagined.
The story of us is born again ceaselessly from the same source,
And the road is the pathway between our hearts.


© Fergus Clare, 2014

Narrow road leading to Paranal Observatory
Atacama Desert, Chile
Photo by Julien Girard, an astronomer for ESA

Monday, June 1, 2015

Only Love

HOW GOOD IT IS 

TO STOP BESIDE THE WATER’S EDGE!

I CAN’T FEEL WHAT DAY THIS IS!

I ONLY KNOW THE SUN UPON MY FACE
AND THAT EVERY TIME I RETURN TO THIS PLACE,
RIVER LOW OR HIGH, 
I AM ONLY I!

BARBED WIRE HAS BEEN DEVOURED 
BY THIS RIVER TREE --

WILL IT BE SO WITH OLD BOUNDARIES AND ME?

WILL IT BE SO WITH OLD ANGER?

ONLY LOVE SHOULD BE GUARANTEED
THE HONOR OF ETERNITY ----

NOTHING ELSE COULD MATTER!


© Gerry Sackett, 2015

Beside the Water's Edge
Photo by Tony Russell

Monday, January 28, 2013

Look at Me


I invite you to look at me.
Really. Look at me.
Close your eyes.
Let your mind see what they would never let you.
See beyond these walls made of flesh.
Peer through the open doorway of this corporeal tabernacle.
Like a child, stealing a glimpse of some forbidden secret.
I ask you 
To look at me.
Really look at me.
Come to that place where my hidden me awaits your inquisitive you,
That place inside us where fears toss and turn,
Where passions live and burn,
Where God’s fingertips can be seen plucking at heartstrings.

Look at me.
Look into me.
Learn me.
Recognize yourself in me and myself in you.

Understand that inside of us burns a brilliant moon,
Watcher of dreams,
Stirrer of souls,
That perfect yet simple light
Desperate for a release.
Longing,
Longing to be seen, if only for a moment.
Give in to it.
Let it show its true worth.
Let yours find, glowing inside me, its equal.

In that inner solitude within each of us where a little piece of the universe has found for itself a dwelling place,
We find ourselves.
Truly aware of what, who, and why we are:
Supple sparks flung from a singular seminal flame 
Truth from beauty, and beauty from truth,
Musician and instrument,
They are as one.

Here I stand:
A hopelessly flawed masterpiece
Molded by the hands of my father, under the watch of my mother,
Anxiously offering myself to you.
You need to just look at me.
Join me.
Know that there are days.
There are days when I feel like I no longer know myself.
Know that, like you, I too have my coarse edges,
Glorious imperfections,
Giving this world something to grasp onto.
Giving us all something to grasp
Onto.

Share this with me.
See what I see.
Feel my thoughts, like an idle breeze or a familiar presence.
Wed your curiosities to my peculiarities.
Let that life-giving breath of God that whispers in each of your breasts find its echo reverberating in mine.

I need you to look at me.
Understand that this dance,
It cannot be danced alone. 
Understand that the space between you and me
Is no bigger or more meaningful than the space between the oceans,

Or between the days,
Or between the fingers, on the hands
On the hands that raise us up.
Join me.
Like the streams join the rivers join the sea,
Join me,

Where I end and us begins.

Listen,
If we want, we can take a stroll through a dream.
With bare backs and naked feet,
Forget all the things we carry by day;
Move beyond the visible.

Leave your understanding behind – like that last fleeting thought that slips your grasp as sunlight coaxes you from slumber.
Unfetter your raw self.
Flex those muscles which we seldom use.
Contort and squeeze your inner dreamer into the spaces this world tells us we cannot fit.

Through the keyhole, past the dam, lies the real world.
We will find us there.
We will find us there.
If you would join me…

© Axel Cooper, 2012


View Through the Keyhole, at Cooper's Wood
Photo by David Antiss from Wikimedia Commons

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

The Answer for the World


What is the answer for the world?
Where do we go from here?
How can we bring peace to this troubled world?
When will we stop this violence?

All these questions make me wonder,
And I am not quite sure where to go.
I want to find the answers,
But only questions come.

Love comes to mind, and it feels so right,
And yet, its not as easy as it is said.
Why can't we stand on the shoulders of Love
And enclose ourselves with a blanket of Caring?

If we could only stand firm
And share our love with the world,
Then maybe peace could come from deep down;
But violence seems to stop us.

Oh! Violence, why are you so deeply rooted?
You hurt so many of us,
And we find it all around us,
And it seems to choke us.

So we must find a way to reach out
And bring forth the love we have,
So that we can take each day
And say, "LOVE is the answer!"

                             © Hilda Ward, 2012

Blankets and care being provided to people rescued when their boat
capsized in Baltimore's Inner Harbor
U.S. Navy photo by Machinery Repairman 2nd Class Jerry Neblett. ~Wikimedia