- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Uncategorized
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(Found this. Liked. Reposted as reminder of more competent verse...)
I've tried to take your measure,
each night, while you lay sleeping,
counted your heartbeats,
your liters of breath - light, fragrant, and somewhere in the night turning fetid like a dragons and you will wake in the morning with a birds nest erupting from your head,
by then I will be asleep, until then I
lie awake thinking - this is perfect;
But how can I measure this?
the volume of your breast in my palm,
the curve of your buttocks in my groin,
the perfect hollow in your shoulder where I rest my chin,
wiggling it to evoke those spasms
your hair tickling my nose, pulling you closer -
blown whispers tickling your ear
how lightly can I bite before you scream to quit?
imagining, reliving the nibbling of your toes;
the perfect fit of every limb to limb;
your breathing, softly out, softly in.
Our days measured with coffee and cigarettes,
trivial and escalating quarrels,
quiet moments of reconciliation;
evenings with glasses of wine
nighttime's, sleeping.
Nothing lasts forever.
This will not last forever.
How rich are we?
in the midnight hours, counting our shared pennies for a final bottle of wine, pack of cigarettes,
There is no one richer than us
we can count ourselves the richest people we know
Richer than kings, than Midas or Croesus
No-one, nobody is richer than us
Nothing would I trade for this.
Your cold hands and feet warmed upon my chest,
I've counted your teeth with my fingers
tongue interrupting -
thumb pressing, whorling in your navel.
the pressure of my hands upon your throat;
and afterwards
lie awake thinking - this is perfect;
But how can I measure this?
You cannot measure this.
Our conversations:
I have counted the words, sorted the lies from the truth, the wisdom from the nonsense, the love and the hate;
The long unending silences:
The full spectrum of white, grey, black lies told and ignored
The countless unspoken, unasked questions
Traced lightly upon you the infinite shape of exulted nights
I have mapped the constellations upon your back, joined birthmarks and destinies;
breathing quietly upon your neck
Nothing lasts forever,
I want this to last forever.
And I've taken your measure, tried to somehow preserve this, these perfect moments,
to distill them into pictures, feelings, smells, tastes, words
From photographs,
I've tried to paint you;
Somehow, crushed foil tubes, every hue mixed upon the palette
the smell of linseed and turpentine
A photograph of you for reference, I need no photographs,
an eye, rubbed out, fingers stained with colour - alazarin, pthalo, cerulean blue, naples yellow, titanium, zinc white,
painted again, rubbed out, my talent not equal the impossible tasks your love has set for me;
but I try again and again and if my painting is futile then there are always those inarticulate words, there are rare moments and gestures;
You cannot measure this.
smaller rations of joy,
greater portions of sorrow...
and always we left the repairs to tomorrow
Nothing lasts forever, no one lasts forever;
I thought that you, we'd last forever and so guessed at the measuring,
Fools that we were to think there would be time.
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Uncategorized
- Hits: 755
Small feuds grew large
and became the agreement not to speak of certain things
weaving silence into every conversation.
Silence, grown into the cracks and ceiling, stifling;
Questions spoken with back turned and answered to windows,
Every word a sigh or lamentation while the clock winds down impossible hours.
Grown into days, months, years, their life,
Cold, tight, polite smiles and a fixed gaze into the middle distance.
Unspilled letters form crusts in the inkwell;
apologies blot pages
Under cloches, filtered sunlight checks unformed ambitions,
mottled fleshy hues;
Motes hang in the rays, descending...
and everywhere the stealth of dust fills corners.A stillborn gesture,
Dumb birds flee the morning, the crickets the night,
And the curtains whisper of better things.
Until they become finally quiet shadows that flicker in the corner of each others eye...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Uncategorized
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that lies splayed upon the bed
My love's a poisoned feast
on which everyone has fed
My love's an open sore
that festers with disease
My love's with another;
And now my love has ceased.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Uncategorized
- Hits: 1125
betrayal
A cool spring night and you run to your loverrun quick to your star-crossed lover, the night is young and full of promise
stealthy and quiet, across moon dappled lawns, dark hedges
she'll be waiting
heart lightly racing in your chest
feet bare in the dew whetted grass and crushed clover,
downy lanes and vaulting fences;
the fragrant bushes, new mowed lawns, scented blossoms
thoughts of her perfumed down-filled covers
limbs intertwining, thoughts
In the light beneath her window; you can smell her, music, catch your breath,
Beneath her window you catch your breath, waiting, savoring, anticipating
And you listen
Within there's the sound of another, of another
and you listen
The nights been shattered into ten thousand stars,
slender shards that rain frozen upon the ground,
The night has fallen from the sky
And lies broken all around
Listen now to your constant lover;
recall the promises of how there would be no other;
Listen, and the light from the window falls upon your blackened face,
The new moon's shadows writhe upon your face
Run now, through moldering leaves crushed underfoot,
through tangling roots that trip you
through thorns and branches that whip you
through dark mazes and alleyways,
run through frost crackled streets and bitter alleyways
don't be discovered...
Tangent. One of the many hydra's severed in Chalk Circle, and still the poem plagues me.
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Uncategorized
- Hits: 1069
and have plotted our reunion carefully.
Restraint
some cordial greetings, a handshake perhaps
kiss on the cheek and tell me how you’ve been
awkward this
We’ll sit on the sofa to hear of our travels and adventures
savoring, waiting,
Anticipation
then I will begin
“tell me. . .” and the conversation will turn from innocence
and you will make yourself distant and available
politely telling the expected lies,
Feigning surprise at my suspicions
Until worn down with frustration
I believe you