Love

Love is hard

Love is unjust

Love screws your mind

Love betrays your trust

Love leaves you weak

Love causes pain

Love hits you hard

Love is a bane

Love makes you mad

Love twists the knife

Love makes you blue

Love’s too much strife

Love drives you mad

Love’s like hard rain

Love rips your guts

Love leaves you once again

How does it feel at the end of a relationship? This was how it felt to me especially during the first few weeks of painful abandonment to my emotions earlier last year.

Sharing

Bath, a traditional place for cleansing, both body and soul

With water and soap, followed by warm towels and sun-dried clothes.

Yet there is another bath that brings those souls that yearn together.

Sharing the intimacy of a steamy bath, scented with essential oils:

Lavendar, ylang ylang, geranium, rose. Those oils that suit the pair.

They sit together, back to chest, a head on the other's shoulder,

Legs and arms entwined, in candlelight with soft music.

No need for words; gentle carresses tell all that is to be said.

This is Sharing, the joining of the Two into Three, the Us that Is.


One of the pleasures of being in a relationship is sharing. Sharing a bath in this way is, in my experience, so relaxing yet erotic. It is an essential beginning to the journey of togetherness.

Hope

A moments breath of hope and joy
As you appear and smile.
Have you returned to be with me?
Your hand outstretched says Yes!

Then I awake and see I am still alone
My room is quiet, no pillow talk,
No hand caressing, holding gently.
A lonely night again.

Waiting

Each day the same
Waiting, waiting.
Life on hold
Waiting, waiting.
Nothing changes
Waiting, waiting.
Sit and stare
Waiting, waiting

Waiting for breakfast
Waiting for tea
Waiting for lunch
Waiting for tea
Waiting for dinner
Waiting for tea
Waiting for bed
Waiting for sleep

On and on
Waiting, waiting
When does it end?
Waiting, waiting

Aahh

This poem was written during a quiet period in between lunch and afternoon tea whilst working in a care home for dementia patients.

Once in a while I have an urge to write a poem. This is the place to put them to share with whoever comes along.

The title comes from a music friend who plays in a jazz trio, and said once that they play three tunes then have a cigarette. As a budding musician I liked the idea of using a modified version of the phrase.

One day I will post a tune, too.