I'm the list there, in your pocket/
tucked behind the picture frame/
scrolled up tight inside a bottle
tossed to sea with perfect aim;
pressed down flat between two pages,
or unfurling in your head...
What's the odds that, when you find me,
I'll be nothing like you said!
For I'm crouching in the creases
that you took such care to fold;
and I'm dancing through the spaces in between
your words in bold...
I am lounging in the corners
absent-mindedly aligned,
as your heart explored the feelings
and you left the words behind.
In the margins of your must-haves,
I hang out - of all the joints!
I am holed up in the fool's cap,
just to dodge your bullet points!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2018
About this poem:
This is about the list of required characteristics that we all make. Sometimes it exists in our heads, but many of us have scribbled it down somewhere, and maybe kept it for luck!
It's a list of all the qualities and characteristics that our perfect match will have. And, in this poem, the real match, which is not to be found in that perfect and exhaustive list, but in the essence of it, in the pauses for idle thought between the words, speaks to us, perhaps a little despairingly in places :-) Hope you like!
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she gives her hands to the fire
a slow entwining of fingers and flame
so almost real
confounds the eye
lids flicker
mind's eye licked open
by images that flex and leap
around the hearth crouch memories
who've come in from the cold
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2018
About this poem:
Inspired by the flames...:-)
I decided to omit punctuation this time, as I noticed that so doing sometimes makes the boundaries between one sentence and the next seem ambiguous, as though the sentences are lapping at each other, like flames. Although, the fact that I have to explain that probably means it's a bit of a nonsense idea!
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The music circles me,
pausing, leaning in,
stepping back to inspect...
teasing breath down my neck,
a whisper in my ear,
to break some rule -
I stay cool,
though it takes all my strength to face front,
when you're pulling this stunt!
A certain conspiracy of chords
takes control of my muscles:
neck cricks, head turns,
under other instruction.
It is as though you have reached
a hand through the ether,
to tilt my chin in your direction,
better to admire the curve of my cheek,
the more easily to command my attention.
I thrust my hand up in return,
to pull you into my existence,
but the music lets it fall,
as though you aren't here at all.
What can I do, but press Replay.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2018
About this poem:
Just a working title.
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In our voices, sunlight;
wide open spaces in our words...
sunlight and space beyond the door
of the dark little room that can hold us
no more.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2018
About this poem:
Just a little one :-) "Inspirational" sounds a bit arrogant of me, but I don't mean it to be!
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His eyes can read the lines between
the words I haven't said;
His touch can arc across the room,
short-circuiting my head.
His voice can send my fears to sleep,
and turn my thoughts to bed...
His slow smile is the memory that holds me, in his stead.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2018
About this poem:
Just a little fantasy :-)
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Had you been there, waiting?
Could you know, before I,
that I'd choose this moment,
after decades gone by,
to hitch up my sequinned skirts,
with no thought to stay dry?
Black eyes watching,
disguised as a bobbing log -
did you notice the fog
lift from my brow...
the endless moment now,
by each other bewitched...
sea-swayed and gazebound,
sequinned skirts floating 'round -
'No sound!'
Toes scrunching the sand,
the urge to withstand -
But the moment dropped beneath the waves.
Would you see me home,
if I sank beneath the foam;
or chastise me back to shore?
Do You know more?
Are you still there,
waiting?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2018
About this poem:
This is about the moment, 20+ years after last being in the sea, when I followed the sudden urge, in spite of wearing a long floaty skirt, to run into the waves up to my waist. What I thought was a bobbing log, about 20 ft away, turned out to be a seal, silently watching me. We just gazed at each other for what seemed like an age, but was really only seconds. I love these creatures, and the legends surrounding them. Perhaps the "I" of the poem is a seal woman who came ashore to shed her skin and dance, as in the folk tales, but for whom it is not yet time to return to her watery home. Or perhaps she is a mermaid who earned her legs (the sequins on the skirt recalling her scales). Or perhaps there simply Are moments when humans and animals connect deeply.
I don't have a title yet, but I dedicate it to my wonderful friend, who was like a father to me, and who was with me that day, about eight years ago, on Tentsmuir beach. He died two years ago, and I think he knew better than I that it was not my time to follow.
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Somewhere in time,
before we must part,
we two have taught each other
our songs...
And we must trust that, somehow,
above the clamour of calling voices -
improbably, impossibly -
we shall hear and recognise each other's...
And love shall pace softly between us,
in the intricate dancing of souls;
and we shall keep from the callous winds,
the beating heart of our love,
until, in joy, we remember,
our love has a song of its own...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2018
About this poem:
This one was inspired by an oldish romantic fantasy film....and penguins!!
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So he fetched her the ocean in a marble,
wrapped up in a velvet rag,
and tied with a golden braid
from the dreams of a white-headed hag...
She twiddled the glassy green sea-sphere,
its white horses frozen inside,
then she bade him:
"Release me that stallion!
Else ne'er shall I be thy sweet bride!"
Well he smiled:
"I know just how to do it!",
and he pitched the glass ball at her throne -
she was still picking shards from the cushions,
as he danced with the white-haired old crone!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2018
About this poem:
A little fairy tale :-) It's not a limerick, but I couldn't think which style fitted...pantoum, ghazal...what on earth are those?!
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So he fetched her the ocean in a marble,
caught up in a velvet rag,
tied off with a golden braid,
from the dream of a white-headed hag.
She twiddled the glassy green sea-scape,
its white horses frozen inside,
then bade him release her a stallion -
'else ne'er would she be his sweet bride!
And he smiled:
"I have spied the solution!",
as he lobbed the glass orb at her throne -
she was still plucking shards from her cushion,
while he danced with the white-haired crone...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2018
About this poem:
Did a bit of tinkering!
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You write down your equation for Love,
and I'll scribble mine down too.
With luck, we'll have used the same variables...
and I'm hoping you've stuck to just two.
Otherwise, we may both be to blame
for the loss of precious seconds in the game,
spent squabbling o'er a and b
versus x and y, or y and zee;
and the need to introduce a third equation!
Oh, suddenly maths is interesting?!
But clear your mind of thoughts extraneous -
we must make our next efforts simultaneous.
Still, one of us may figure out first,
that this pairing has no point in common -
not any!
Though there may be an infinite many...
we may find we're completely in line
(Your equation just looks different from mine).
But perhaps there's one glorious point
of intersection,
where my soul and yours coincide,
in perfection...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2018
About this poem:
A new take on solving simultaneous equations in two (not three) variables...written when I really ought to have been doing my maths assignment!
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This is a list of MerryOars's Poems. Click here for MerryOars's Poem List
MerryOars Poetry (10)