Rubicon76 Poetry (5)

for my Angel of the North


Maelstrom:
1. A storm at sea involving a whirlpool of extraordinary size or violence.
2. A violent or turbulent situation.

Disambiguation
Malestrom:
1. The destructive whirlpool of emotions generated when a woman is simultaneously loved by two men.


On your way through life you collect some things that you found,
Larger things may have gravity, to which you feel bound,
But if, like me, you discard things or rent to save cost,
You will only ever remember the things that you lost.

_____________________________________________________


I wandered the world twelve years all alone,
Anchored to nothing, nowhere to call home,
The desert came calling; the dunes whispered ‘Go’,
No rain ever falling, expectations were low.

Drifting along through sand, dust and sun,
A real life outlawed, no chance any fun,
The price of exclusion, extinguish the fire,
An outcast should know when he becomes a pariah.

You see a desert is defined by the amount of rain falling,
Just as a man is defined his name they are calling,
Yet what was this on the horizon now building?
Dark nimbus clouds, could the desert be yielding?

Without calling it Christmas so as not to offend,
Little else going on so I had to attend,
The party was where her glowing smile first warmed me,
That dress and those curves, I so needed to see.

Fragrant the air, dust and new rainfall mixing,
A great storm was now brewing, overhead it was fixing,
Tiny raindrops I could feel at first at the dance,
Her eyes shone so bright, I was hers to entrance.

“Forget it” they told me, “She’s out of your league”
The facts can’t deter, my desire won’t fatigue,
A strange silence in the taxi as our hands almost touch,
I doubt she’ll ever know I wanted her so much.

The rain became steady now, she filled every thought,
Over dinner the next night our shy glances were caught,
Each idea, word and smile realised our connection,
Understanding her soul I glimpsed universal perfection.

But I bid her ‘Goodnight’ at the hotel lobby door,
And under the clear desert moonlight it started to pour,
It had been thirty years since I was a teen,
But she made me feel so alive, so young and so keen.

The old and the new, from the land of the sea,
To another she was promised, she kept nothing from me,
Such a short time and I knew I’d crave more,
To live in the moment and forget tomorrow’s war.

I cannot see your eyes; I cannot hear your voice,
I can’t say for sure that you are real,
But from the words you send to me I know,
By the way you make me feel.

What a gift from God, the written word,
And your ability to conjure grace,
The image of our love to come,
I can almost see your face.

Your feelings have such depth and strength,
Release me from my cage,
Our connection makes me grateful for,
The wonders of the electronic age.

It’s strange to think that I can express,
For you my love and my desire,
And send it to you in a heartbeat,
Digitally, by telephone wire.

You paint for me your pictures,
Images burn into my mind,
You illustrate them so beautifully,
By God’s hand they must be signed.

And when we finally meet, you and I,
And love each other in tactile fashion,
Perhaps I will need these words no more,
To describe to you my passion.

For you, dear Lady, are beautiful,
In body and mind and as such,
Deserve to be made love to,
By the old fashioned means of touch.

There’s a girl I know, not well you understand,
Who makes my blood move, my heart leap,
She doesn’t know just how I feel,
Is it a crime to harbour admiration so deep?

The dark eyes, amazing hair,
Skin defining the surface of temptation,
She has the curves that move me,
I live for receipt of her invitation.

Her smile is a thing of wonder,
I love the way her eyes flirt with me,
Her every movement, God’s gift,
And her grace makes me grateful for the things I see.

With Beauty that transcends all others,
And a voice which sings to my ear,
I am entranced by her presence,
To see her no more is my brutal fear.

It’s all that I can do,
Whenever she walks past,
To stop myself from reaching out,
And pull her close to me at last.

Every day I want to tell her,
And make her understand,
But circumstance will prevent me,
From steering my ship towards her land.

You see, to another I am betrothed,
My feelings for you I must keep hidden,
As much as I want to be with you,
Should such a union be forbidden?

But what could I say to you?
For you are not mine,
To let you know that I think of you,
I know –
Will you be my Valentine?



Anon

Autumn comes and leaves fall to the ground,
Scattered to the wind, year upon year,
Just like people they come and go,
There can be no delay to the perfection of the equinox.

There aren’t many photos of me,
Almost as if I wasn’t here at all,
When I was younger I foolishly would believe,
That I could move through life,
And not touch anyone,
Leave no mark on the world,
Observe without influence.

Now that I am older, I understand,
That it’s not possible,
In just the same way that science has shown,
Schrodinger’s poor cat never stood a chance,
I had to know and…… I had to be.

But if we just shift a little we can see,
That it is possible, in a manor,
Do as we will and try as we might,
We won’t change fate and it’s likely,
We’ll not be remembered,
In a hundred years who will care?
In a thousand, who will know?

There is no autumn here, only the heat day after day,
But for all the warmth, I feel so cold,
Surrounded by millions, I am alone,
Time and season stand still,
I have to remind myself that back home,
The leaves in April succumb to gravity,
And drift back toward earth,
To become one with her again.

This bed as wide as the sea,
I sleep and dream and see your face,
And wish you were swimming in it with me,
It’s easy to forget that our time is brief,
Everyday we’re still going to perish,
So hard to know if there is a right way,
And to worry upon it is our vexation.

If we open our hearts we can save ourselves,
From the paralysis of eternal procrastination,
Our Autumn will come and we shall be scattered to the wind,
It is best to know that we are deciduous,
Like the leaves in April,
And that only our love can be evergreen.

For a real cutie-Pi


They tried for centuries,
To square your circle,
Whole lives wasted,
For the love of your curve.

Close enough was never good enough,
Your secrets will never reveal,
A final solution to describe,
Your perfect shape that I see and feel.

Your ebb and flow controls my world,
Time and tide dance to your whim,
A beauty, rare from the chaos deep,
Sculpted from raw universe by Him.

A value for Pi will never be found,
Regardless of the names and faces,
It will take more than science to define,
Your infinite number of decimal places.

But I know someone as perfect and mystical,
I ache to feel her hand and touch her face,
A future moment of rare enlightenment,
A kiss will flood me with her grace.

Your beauty lies beyond mere numbers,
Transcends all others that I see,
And mathematics cannot explain,
Y U R the way U B.

To circumscribe my feelings for you,
Won’t be easy to discuss,
A ratio of perfect impossibility,
Love’s circumference to radius.

I think you are more precious than,
The great secrets of our world,
My pleasure is your time and kiss,
Around your finger I am curled.

For you, my heart is without account,
Lust oddly coexists with notions gentle,
Suffice to say my love for you,
Is boundless,
Indefinable,
……Transcendental.

Anon