Tag Archives: poem about lost love

Secrets of a Warm Climate

Secrets of a Warm Climate

After a hot afternoon,
a sudden rising chill wind
blows his canvas from the wall.

The pool, filled with the blood of the volcano,
is still hot soup warm after twelve hours of cooling. I slide into it,
all others in the house and neighborhood asleep or abed.
Strings of papyrus blown into the water
catch at me like cobwebs as I swim through viscous water.
I comb them from the water with my fingers
and launch them poolside.

Gentle music floats up from the town,
backup to the repetitious trilling of the nightingale
and the far-off Who? Who? Of an owl.
The crack of the house settling into night.
The wind singing in a different voice from every palm tree
under a clear sky filled with stars.
Air cool on my face,
water hot around my body— its currents like silken whips,
I try to remember sensuality with someone else attached to it.

Moving forward and back, then in circles around the kidney-shaped edge,
I am drunk on the night, making my own romance,
knowing that what matters, now that past loves are over,
is not sharp words or all the craziness of love’s endings,
but instead—the first yearning wishes met impossibly
by the answer in another’s eyes and voice, then mouth and hands.
What is important is that sweet pain of wanting—
the answering pain of wanting back.

All the fairytales of new love:
tropical sand or mountain canyons echoing the call
of goats and the answer of goatherds,
a first sight across a smoky room,
hearing a poet’s words about a past love
and, knowing that power could be directed towards me,
dizzy in love before I even met him.

His death or love dying first is not what it is important to remember—
just those days where love was everything that mattered.
And in this life gained after those first vanished loves,
”Send me a sign,” I say, looking to the stars.
And there is a flash, immediate.
Not a falling star,
but one shooting upward in a quick bursting flash of light.

 

Here is the prompt. And here is what others wrote for the prompt: dVerse Poets: Secret.

Lover’s Spat

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Lover’s Spat.

When I said I didn’t miss you, I admit that I lied.
I didn’t get enough of you. I left unsatisfied.
If you, too, detect a movement in your stone cold heart,
perhaps you could begin with a phone call as a start.

I didn’t mean to say it. You didn’t mean to scream.
I’m willing to atone for it by any means you deem.
Breaking up is hard to do but staying mad is harder.
I spend way too much time in bed, too much time in my larder.

I’m gaining weight and losing hair, burst into tears repeatedly.
I fly off the handle and insult my friends most heatedly.
So I propose our meeting via taxi, boat or plane.
Our last tryst was insufficient. It didn’t heal the pain.

If you’ll come out of hiding, then I will do the same.
If you’ll agree to meet with me, I’ll even take the blame.
You’ll be right and I’ll be wrong. I’ll take the higher road.
The digs that I once took at you will produce the motherlode.

Prompt words for today were taxi, movement, propose and hide.

First Love

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First Love

That frisson of excitement that I once knew so well—
that doubling of my pulse rate that rang me like a bell.
Back when there was no contest over which would win
when impulse clashed with custom. Back when passion was no sin.
The sum of all that feeling sent us crashing into life—
before you were a husband, before I was a wife.

Remember how exciting those first love wanderings were?
Those first stirrings of passion that made us stretch and purr
like felines on that blanket stretched out on the grass?
Our love was a religion and each touch a holy mass.
Our loving was eternal up until the time we parted
and each became a memory of when loving first started.

Prompts today are sum, double, frisson and contest.

The Reappearance

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The Reappearance

A luscious former lover that I haven’t seen in years
takes my quiet life by storm when he reappears.
He showers me with flowers he says are in arrears
for all those times he should have stayed to dry my tears.

Of course it’s an unsuitable last-minute love affair
that simply manifested like magic from pure air.
For well nigh on a dozen years, he wasn’t even there—
this Lochinvar who now insists we are the perfect pair.

Dare we try settle accounts so long overdue?
Dare we stir those embers to kindle love anew?
Or might our purple passion have assumed a lighter hue?
At this late date how can I know the proper thing to do?

Why so wan and pale, dear lover? Are you drained by worry?
Why such a push to reconnect? Why such frenetic hurry?
Why suddenly are you intent my favors to thus curry?
Why all this sudden passion? This trial without jury?

Who put me in this role of judge, called to adjudicate
what might be our future–our destiny and fate?
Once I would have loved the task, but now it is too late.
Why would you wait until the eve of my wedding date?

The wedding cake is stacked and iced, the flowers hung in bowers.
The time until my union is measured now in hours.
In a backroom with his friends, my groom paces and cowers.
Bridesmaids fuss and bother and rearrange their flowers.
Now is not the time, my dear, to reassert your powers.

All of us have daydreams of lovers of the past,
intent in our belief that they were not meant to last.
The sea of love, once entered, is so wide and deep and vast
that we lose connection with lines formerly cast.

I see you now sequestered in the far back row
beside the aisle I’ll walk down, my troth to here bestow.
You should have spoken sooner. You should have let me know.
For now it is too late to reverse the status quo.

Your flowers were so lovely that you sent today.
As  in the past, most exquisite—their colors bright and gay.
It would have been a dreadful waste to throw them all away,
so here they are,  tucked into my nuptial bouquet.

 

Prompt words today are suitable, arrears, anew and luscious. Links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/05/02/rdp-thursday-suitable/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/05/02/fowc-with-fandango-arrears/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/05/02/your-daily-word-prompt-anew-may-2-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/05/02/luscious/

The Brush Off

The Brush Off

A less than amicable parting, he leaves her paints and easel
but takes her masterpieces, the slimy little weasel.
As he struggles with them while slipping out the door,
she shouts her rejoinder, “I always can make more,
whereas it is less likely that you, my dear, will ever
find another bread-winner so talented and clever!”

When he runs out of money and slinks back to disarm her,
all his “mea culpas” will do nothing but rearm her.
She will hear him coming in his rattletrap old van
that he always claimed was a  sort of talisman
of those happy hippy days when he was such a charmer
that she was convinced he was her knight in shining armor.

But he has shattered her illusions ‘til there’s nothing left but rubble.
His bellbottoms are tattered and his goatee turned to stubble.
His dreadlocks fall from balding pate, his “Hey Man” is not cool.
He came into her life a god, but left it as a fool.
She’s given him the brush-off. No more is she his wife.
If he comes back he’ll only meet with her palette knife.

Prompt words today are amicable, weasel, talisman and Mea culpa.
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/03/28/your-daily-word-prompt-talisman-march-28-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/03/28/mea-culpa/
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/03/28/rdp-thursday-weasel/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/03/28/fowc-with-fandango-amicable/

Phases of the Moon

Phases of the Moon

When you whispered you’d be leaving with the waning gibbous moon,
I let your words escape behind the music of the loon.
I let the truth go bankrupt in the lapping of the wave.
Underneath the full moon, it was easy to be brave.

Beneath the waxing gibbous and the first quarter moon,
I seldom thought about the truth that you’d be leaving soon.
I turned my back to moonlight to ward off future pain.
My joy could not be sabotaged by its wax and wane.

Under the first quarter, I stifled my duress
lest memory of your leaving undermine your fond caress.
And though the new moon brought again reminders you’d be leaving,
I sealed my eyes against the truth to circumvent my grieving.

Under the waning crescent, resolution slipped away.
I pleaded for our meeting to be done in light of day.
I was wan beneath the moonlight as our time as one grew shorter.
How I dreaded what was coming as we viewed the moon’s last quarter.

Tonight I greet the moon again, standing all alone,
listening to your whispers over the telephone.
In spite of my avoidance, your leaving came too soon.
I finally face its truth beneath a waning gibbous moon.

 

The prompt words were wan, undermine,bankruptcy and seldomly. Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/02/21/rdp-thursday-wan/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/02/21/fowc-with-fandango-undermine/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/02/21/your-daily-word-prompt-bankruptcy-february-21-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/02/21/seldomly/

Lovesick

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                       Lovesick

Memories of her
stretch out like a voluptuous lover
over the couch of his mind.
He takes refuge in them in his loneliness,
gathering a sequelae
of the aftereffects of her loss
around him
like a scratchy woolen blanket
drawn by habit,
offering little comfort.

The prompts today are sequelae, stretch, voluptuous and refuge.  Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/10/07/rdp-sundaysequelae/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/10/07/fowc-with-fandango-stretch/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/10/07/voluptuous/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/10/06/daily-addictions-2018-week-40/refuge