So this is all I amAnd this is all I knowCan't tell a summer loverTo settle for the snow The last time I saw them Your eyes still shone for me I don't know how to function What is time and space and light and day I might as well be swimming in the river … Continue reading Black and white
We are as boats, Floating, Capsizing, Cruising, But never falling under. You are the anchor that steadies me And I am what keeps you buoyant, Your Sea.
My knees might not get proverbially wobbly when I see you But I lose command of the English language And that, I think, Is a more profound loss of faculty
You think the danger has passed You think you're in the clear. But he comes silently, stalkingly, With the stealth of the night And when he comes, There can be nothing But to give in and be ravaged By the Power of a Memory.
Lemonade, Lemonade, Lemonade,Always on a hot summer's day.I recall one day in AdelaideWhen you froze summer with the words you would say.
We walked along the shaded path, Hand in hand, in tandem; We bathed in early sunbeams, We made this our memorandum.
Furtive glances Out the corners of our eyes Nervous laughter, butterflies Talking excitedly Over each other I'd like it if we were, literally. No certainty, no temperance Wondering what is your inference My hands are cold And yours look warm If there ever was, this is the chance You ask me a question And I'm … Continue reading First Encounter
The rains are finally here. Not feebly trying to encroach into summer and hastily retreating forces, but here in all its burgeoning grey, brobdingnagian glory. Who doesn't love rain? Who doesn't love lazing around? And who doesn't love good literature? So, to celebrate, I've put together a few excerpts from some of my most-loved poetry, … Continue reading Rain, Rain
Departing from my usual style of writing, which is to basically make everything a spectacle, this was written when I was in a somewhat forlorn place, maybe a year ago. Sometimes, you wonder if all poetry and love songs aren't just grossly exaggerating the majesty of Love. But now you are barely at the base of … Continue reading Sometimes
This is a two-part poem I wrote some time ago.Part IYou're all that I can breathe anymore;There's only so much of you left in my lungsTo sustain me till our next meeting.And when we do meet,Oh, when we do meet,My body is a skirmish of heat and wetness,Smiling warmth, inviting skin, all at once,Till finallyWe … Continue reading As Tungsten