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Most of us may have lived long enough to be entitled to a past—–however wonderful or sad, bitter or sweet or a mixture of both.  For sure we have a million memories stored in  the nooks and crannies of our brains just waiting to be retrieved one fine day.  Some of us may have stuff buried in boxes—– photos, letters, journals and mementos, waiting to be rediscovered.  For most of us, our intense and vivid presents have long exorcised the past .  One fine April day I found a stash of  poems from my so-called  ”long-exorcised past”.  Here they are…

For —–

I loved you in the heat of April’s fire,

In a summer swept by weather

That struck men with madness,

That turned the green of life to brown.

Love for you has me sick

With something that throbs in my head,

That sucks the color from my lips,

That sets me sleepless till the early morning

That with time has spurred me to bouts of screaming.

My mind is faint with too much thinking.

The telephone has burned holes into my heard.

I walk like a drunk in the day.

(People wonder; they do not know.)

I am sick with love for you yet I cannot say no.

 

If this sickness drives me to death

I shall rise by its power to love you again.

 

   

April Sonata

 

You move me in ways no man has.

You overwhelm me,

burn me, consume me,

squeeze the sugar sap from me.

  

You are storm and lightning

breeze and flower;

You pull out the roots of me

and we fall down together.

  

I call this love.  I call this love.

 

 

Twice Over

 

Because you don’t love me–

I shall love you with my love

And the love you cannot give me.

How then can you not love me?

 

Because you will not hold me–

I will hold you with my arms

And your arms.

How can you break free?

 

Because you will not kiss me–

I will kiss you with my kisses

And the kisses you cannot give me.

You cannot deny me.

 

I will miss you

forty eight hours in a day

Because you do not miss me.

 

Because you will not love me now or ever

I shall love you twice forever.

 

 

One More Love Story

 

It came as a kiss

That fell on love-starved lips

And sparked a season of fire

That won’t stop burning.

A love story born

From unhappy endings.

 

A jetty, and a waveless sea,

Sweet talk, roses, poetry…

 

It came as a  resurrection

Of buried laughter

As balloons soar in balmy weather

Bearing white promises of forever,

Bearing white promises of forever.

 

 

The End

 

You moved away

And in your moving

Rolled a chasm open.

Like an apple chopped right through

I and you, now we are two.

 

A swirl of thoughts clouds your eyes

As distant as mountain rumblings

From the plains–you are.

I hold a long arm out to reach,

You ripple in widening circles –away.

 

To my tongue the aftertaste of love

Turns bitter from sweet,

Soft bread turns stale.

I watch the passing clouds

For a glimpse of sun.

 

  

A Postscript to Love

 

I poured my wine of love

Into your vessel full of holes

And now my flask is empty

My arms are cold.

How do I ignite the burning

That ran through my veins

When the icy hands

Of your neglect

Has frozen my bones?

 

I hang my heart

On  empty pegs.

I fold my hands

On silent sheets.

I curl my tongue

And speak no more forevers

The spark and spring is gone.

Where love has gone I could not follow.

He left no footprints behind.