when in doubt

When in doubt about what to post, it’s always easy to fall back on flower photography and love poetry.

And as I have a set of photos of love-in-a-mist at different stages of flowering, it seems appropriate to find some poems of the different stages of love.

First kiss

It’s there in the air between them.

As hands sketch fragmented curves,
fingertips graze its surface.

They worry it with words,
map points along the borders.

Their tongues taste the edges
of possibility until they find its shape

in the space where their lips meet.

Continue reading “when in doubt”

too late for love

Well, no, it probably isn’t really too late for love, but I singularly failed to write a blog post for Valentine’s Day as I didn’t get finished with work till around ten that night. Although I had found several ideas I thought would be appropriate, I couldn’t face trying to put them all in order at that stage of the day.

So, although it is no longer quite so relevant, I will try to do so now.

To begin with, I thought I could claim that it was romance that had kept me working so late, as I was writing a tender proposal.
Continue reading “too late for love”

kisses

lipstick lip print

Skin against skin, we lie;
breathing each other’s breath
we slowly suffocate.

valentine

grey car

I know that you’re
a thousand miles away,
yet each grey car I glimpse
demands I look again

losing the thread

Amor, Amor
(after Garcilaso de la Vega)

Love offered me a cloth so fine and rich,

with folds so ample, I could not refuse

but sewed myself a habit, stitch by stitch.

I find the garment shrinks with daily use:

its generous measures pucker and draw tight,

I suffocate where once I’d room to spare;
I stretch and strain to free myself, I fight,

yet still the precious fabric will not tear.
Come, show me one who wants to cut these ties –

these homespun tapes we fashion for our lives

to bind ourselves to husbands or to wives –

and I will show you one who’s spinning lies.

Each wears the cloth he wove, though I confess

I wonder if mine’s shroud or wedding dress.

Continue reading “losing the thread”

4-ever?

Graffiti: "te quiero <3"
how many?
This bench in the village reminded me of the story about the little boy who told his aunt, “I love you millions and billions.”

“I love you, too, dear,” she replied.

At which he burst into tears, sobbing, “Only two?”

star’ku

Gredos twilight
 
 
 

Watching shooting stars,
your arm around my shoulders

No need for wishes

 
 
 
 
 
For those who are looking for more perseids, I posted a few other pieces on the subject of shooting stars this time last year.