Category Archives: Love

Shimmering Locks

I found this poem written a year and a half ago that perfectly reflects today’s prompt word  shimmer. Since I had totally forgotten it, you probably have, too, so please read below:

lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown

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Locks

Locked up in my bedchamber. More than I can bear.
The beauty of my countenance, the shimmer of my hair
do me no good for no prince charming comes to find me here.
I will go unmarried––for my whole life, I fear.

My father thinks he honors me. I am his special treasure.
He worries not about my fate.  He thinks not of my pleasure.
I am but one more lovely thing he keeps for his collection––
admired for my golden locks, my flawless pale complexion.

I care not for beauty.  I care not for my tresses.
I do not treasure jewels or slippers or my ornate dresses.
A husband and a family are all that I desire.
A simple life’s the sort of life that I most admire.

From my window I look out upon the broad King’s Highway.
All roads must converge here––every path and byway.
And so I see…

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The Subtle Art of Love’s Debate

The Subtle Art of Love’s Debate

If you want true love to be your fate,
heed the advice I here relate:
the subtle art of love’s debate
requires words that resonate—
that tease and lure and serve as bait—
that charm as well as educate.

Many a lover learned too late
that loneliness would be his fate
because what he chose to relate
in one fell swoop on a first date
seemed only to exacerbate
or even worse to detonate.

Suitors, weigh your words inside
before you choose to rage or chide.
To stroll love’s pathway, walk the walk.
Take time to listen as well as talk.
Your questions will win you more hearts
than trying to display your smarts.

The greater part of conversation
lies not within one’s recitation.
Instead of gross bombacity,
express your curiosity.
Love plans require less machination.
Just greet her words with fascination.

 

 

The prompt today was detonate.

NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 16: What I Do with Love Letters

 

What I Do with Love Letters
(Forbidden Love)

In them, I talk about his eyes.
What they say to me across the room.
His foot against my foot
under the table.
The rush of air as he walks by.
His body’s honest odor.
I can’t pull away,
he can’t look away.
And yet we do what is necessary.

When I write what I really want to say,
I stuff the pages in my shoes.
Limp over them.
Dance over them, too.
Let other gentle men
dance me over
songs of him.

 
I’ve folded him
a paper mouth
to house his tongue.
I want my words on his palate
where he can taste them
salty
fragrant
cheeks
gums
tongue.

I want his tongue to press
my words
against
my cheek,
tattoo them on my face
where I can see them in the mirror.

Instead, I fold them into origami castles,
set them on the sand,
hope the wind and seagulls free them
before beach squirrels
shred them
into their full cheeks
and carry them
to hidden burrows
in the hillside.

The NaPoWriMo prompt today was to write a letter in the form of a poem.  This poem is about love letters.

 

When in Love

“Love Charms” mixed media assemblage, Judy Dykstra-Brown

When in Love

Life’s puzzles all seem solved when love makes you replete.
It  fills in all your caverns, making you complete.
No matter what the the time frame: a lifetime or a minute,
love is not an abstract when you’re firmly in it.

The prompt today was abstract.

Desire

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Desire

All those nights of passion, those years spent in desire,
we were tightrope walkers, balanced on a wire.
We never knew from day-to-day which of us might fall.
Never knew for certain if we’d both be there at all.

Desire in the meadows under shelter of tall grass—
in our youth we never knew that it could pass.
We had it firmly tethered. It could not slip away.
It curled in loosened coils around us as we lay.

Desire in the morning or in the afternoon,
each time we fell into it, was over all too soon.
Then life leaked in to wash the passion from our day.
We balanced, raw and vulnerable, wishing it could stay.

Desire in the darkness was easier to hold.
Something in the shadows made us wild and bold.
But when the morning beckoned, we left each other for
all the business of the day that lurked outside our door.

Heartbeats built the passion that footsteps cruelly bore
away so pulses of the night became the stuff of lore
as our desires migrated into memories
just beyond our fingertips, too distant now to seize.

Note: If sung to the tune of Suzanne Vega’s “Gypsy,,” as per okcforgottenman’s suggestion, sing the following two-line chorus after every verse: (Anyone want to think up an original tune for this?)

Oh, tomorrow, wrapped up in today.
we never know the dreams that we will throw away.

 

The prompt today was desire.

Allergic to Love

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Allergic to Love

Henceforth, I will not flirt with guys.
Don’t like the trouble that it buys.
It starts out with a single rose
and ends up with a stuffy nose,
first due to all the histamines,
and then due to his macho genes.
Sad when he’s here and when he’s gone,
and I am feeling spent and wan—
sneezing over a thorny stem,
feeling pricked by both of them!

The prompt given in my writing group today was “Eyes,” and since I’d already written a poem about eyes for the WP prompt of “Arid” earlier, I asked my neighbor for a different prompt.  He gave me the word, “henceforth.” So, here’s my poem

Dry Eyes

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Dry Eyes

Your eyes were dust, mine were a flood.
The combination, a mire of mud
that we somehow wound up in.
You blamed it on original sin,
but I, agnostic to the core,
had wisdom to walk out the door
to spend my tears on other guys.
Never trust a guy with arid eyes.

 

The prompt word today was arid.