One Love Poem and The Woes of Gulbárdier

Sponsor me! - Sorry, had to bump that to the top of my blog ;) 

Huge thank you to those that have so far!

Aaaaaanyway. Following on from a recent post on murder poetry in which an intended love poem accidentally made a Byronic slip, somebody said that they hadn't seen me write anything new for some time. They gave the impression that, should I care to write some more, they might not be averse to reading it (thanks Dad! ;)). Hmmm. Well, the creative juices haven't exactly been flowing of late, but I did jot up a couple of ditties that a couple of people didn't seem too upset after having read. 

So, without further ado, here is one very special poem. Nobody dies, nobody gets killed, nobody is miserable, and no one's having an affair. Blimey, must be losing my touch...:o/

I Cover My Eyes

I cover my eyes so I cannot see
But inside I feel it breathing in me
I look to the left, I look to the right
But see nothing of no one without any light.

A river it rises after the rain
Overflowing to bursting, without any pain
I cover my eyes so I cannot see
You… looking at me

Blind, I feel you standing there
The heat of your body, the smell of your hair
The steady look of your steady eyes
Your breath repeating that steady rise

If I had two hands I’d reach out and touch
But I need my hands much too much
They have an important job to do
To stop me… looking at you

I know you’re laughing at my smile
I want to peek, but I'll wait a while
In this moment warm and black
I know I love you, and you love me back.


Doesn't Rhyme

This is a poem that doesn’t rhyme.
Perhaps it will do, in time.
Why it doesn’t I do not know.
It really does frustrate me so.
But it doesn’t.


You are Logic, I am Art

You are logic, I am art
Together we are worlds apart

I must paint while you play chess
You must stroke while I caress

I am passion, I am play
You store it up for a rainy day

I get in the car and go
But you are methodical and slow

You plan it out, you plot the route
I just grab my bag and scoot

You account while I design
You’re the church and I the shrine

You wear grey and I wear red
I’m from the heart, you’re from the head

You were logic, I was art
It very nearly broke my heart.

So, that's what I've come up with since the rather better Things I Know. I'd say not bad, but slightly average.

With that, and as promised to someone, here is a poem of rather more epic proportions, written some time once.

[NB 2013: What followed was a truly, truly epic poem called The Woes of Gulbárdier.]