in the place of loss and loneliness (a poem)
i have lived
in the place of loss and loneliness
listened to the song of myself
aching
reaching
towards
some infinite longing unfulfilled
as if
this sadness was my natural state
i have fallen for a girl
taken pains to weave together
beloved after beloved
only to crash into this emptiness again
what is in my optimistic heart
that continues this quest
how do my arms continue to open
to the threat of love and loss and disappointments
i have no superpower
other than desire
my heart exploding in letters
arranged across a screen or page
into hope
into flames of unrest
and ultimately
into a new set of promises
to have and to hold
to appreciate and adore
to ignite foolishly into dark nights
in the arms of an unavailable lover
unable to meet these rigorous demands
of honesty
vulnerability
and mutual aspirations
and the unrelenting “yes”
that can come from holding the hand
of the one
true
love
7-18-22
a swarm of letters (a poem)
a swarm of letters
rustles in my head
pulls me up and out
coffee
dogs
kisses
symphony of birds
whistling their hearts out
in choruses that bring harmony to the world
and chaos of of stars
hiding just behind the dawn sky
summoning aspirational dreams
into sounds lining up in my head
and soft clicking of the keys
brushing up against your synapses
in an attempt at communication
love
mystery
desire
and the infinite feeling
of
home
6-26-22
simple love (a poem)
stripped back
to
touch
breath
smiles
i fall
each minute
you are nearby
fulfilling my dream
simple
giving
in easy moments
spent
alongside
2-21-22
pulled under (a poem)
she pressed back towards the surface
the ghosts had released their hold on her legs
once more i was trying to rescue and restore
this is a dangerous mode for any man
and failure would mean death or something worse
loneliness again
loss
hopeless romantic suicide
there is no “fix you” in love
between lovers
we need balance
higher/lower is a trap
and a lie
we are together for a reason
and the lessons we learn
will be important
if we can quiet our own panic
and listen
just to hold
space
for the beloved
healing that comes from being in love
and holding the line between us
as a sacred bond
and agreement
this is how we love
without losing our own
minds
2-16-22
she could not be caught (a poem)
just as i remembered her
on the gay streets of paris
i was 19
she was 22
and spoke no english
we managed
in the morning
the eiffel tower visible
through the small steamy window
i had arrived
or
fulfilled a fantasy
and until this photograph emerged
from an old envelope of black and whites
she was no longer an obsession
yet the fires flared immediately
as if i was still a young man
she could not be caught
she said
men had tried
i was different
but wouldn’t slow her down for a second
of course
she was right
the next night
she didn’t show
even though i told her i was leaving
heading off to spain
and on to oxford
for my summer program
stratford and all that
the other photo of her
melted into dust in my wallet
after a few hot months
the next summer
1-17-22
girl in waves (a poem)
she said my presence in her life
was no longer a priority
as she left for three weeks in hawaii
i stayed calm
as I stayed in her place
awaiting
her return
did bring a moment
of clarity
as i volunteered to give her more space
it was as if
we had been living to two separate worlds
me still loving as hard as i could manage
her establishing a different plan
that didn’t include me
i
showed myself out
still howling at the loss
and dancing alone
in the moonlit waves
closer to home
lone wolf
again
12-30-21
she takes her shirt off (a poem)
there is a moment
things are not going well
and
she takes her shirt off
it was a ninja move
catching me off guard
unbalancing my argument
with other urges
desires
that required far less discussion
this time
i didn’t indulge her
the elephant was making noise
it was time to get clear
about our rapt attention
and sustainability
so
there she was
looking confused
her beautiful naked magic fairy dust move
proved ineffective
this was a deeper conversation
and our last
12-08-21
always arriving (a poem)
leaving and arriving
nyc
at the prettiest time of year
alone
remembering other moments
other lovers
adventures that led me here
as if
this city is a gateway
to next adventures
“oh shit, i’m in ny, what’s about to happen?”
yet, here i am again
technically not alone
but …
wait, i am here to learn a new lesson this time
love is love is love is love
the love you make
that’s all there is
and this love
this companionship
contains everything necessary
for a lifetime of joy and connection
of course
parenting forms an unbreakable bond
where distance and time
bring a deeper affection
easy appreciations
are somehow affirming
our own good hearts
an lessons in learning to love
another person without limits
there is no risk in loving your kids too much
only in missing moments when your attention
could’ve been more supportive
more joyful
in our lives we need that one person
i want to be that one person
who always loves
who invites more love
and gives freely
without expectations
or rewards
this is the reward
this live
love
moment
this then
is
heaven
on
earth
11-27-21 (beginning my 60th year on the planet)
and there she was… (a poem)
i keep wanting to start every story
every poem
with “and there she was”
but it has become cliché
and yet
these legs
expanding out below me
on my phone IG account
and i don’t see it at first
but as i enlarge
and look closely
it is me
in the background
clearly holding my macbook air
in one hand
as i whip up migas
on the fancy-ass gas stove
at my sister’s cottage
in the lakes outside of new york
it is warm outside
but the fall is coming
and i am arriving at love
with this amazing woman
it seems like we have just met
casually, randomly
by chance and circumstance
of this webby woven world
of gadgets
online dating profiles
kisses with strangers
promises never fulfilled
by the right swipe
i miss you
her
anyone
at this moment
i find my aloneness
almost unbearable
on the first cold night
in furry slippers
and sipping
my bubbly water
wishing i had more information to go on
the photo is beautiful
but there is no contact info
no touching
only my imaginative
lyrical typing
like an idiot
poking the cold plasticized aluminum
into tiny stokes
black on my white screen
clickity
all alone
clackity
on a night
when almost anyone would do
a cat perhaps
an Asian massage therapist
no
not that
just alone
me
staring at my phone
and there she was…
11-18-21
it is getting late (a poem)
afraid i still love her
i couldn’t help myself
wanting the depth we are missing
i tried to tell you
you were so afraid
we tried to pull apart
the sad from the ecstasy
a moment from a dream
of where we are at this second
where we are going
how we envision getting there
i tried to tell you
i was leaving
recovering in my big bed
recalibrating my own heart
to meet us
in this space
today
tonight
tomorrow
here
i tried to tell you
without words
with the touch of my fingers
and kisses
fires in my eyes
of distant fires
still obscuring
what is unknown and unsure
giving me starts and fits
here
at this juncture
i tried to tell you
11-11-21
girl i once knew (a poem)
i talk about them too much
my current girl says
and asks
are you still in love with her
no
my dear
i am trying to find my way with you
informed by
them
of beds and kisses
as my roadmap for what is ahead
is unfamiliar
her hair still comes to mind
from time to time
the feel of her back
and place on her neck
…
it is no longer her i seek
intentions have changed
sleeping next to someone else
loving again
revisiting memories
and tastes
the sound of your voice
still in my head
loving me
closer
in
some
broken past embrace
i cannot return home again
i had to move
my place had become
deprioritized
my best friends all said
that is no place to be
lonely
and in love
unreflected or unresolved
11-10-21
too fast for me (a poem)
a woman once said
you’re too fast for me
as she sped on by
to the friend zone
she felt we were not a match
i agreed
11/04/21
man under water (a poem)
the smoky morning rains have arrived
to remind me of the loss and emptiness
of this moment
as i repose in a new venue
rebuilding
resetting myself
my love
my energies and trajectories
towards higher love
higher ground
higher callings
that still respond to the desire
and the aspirational quest
for a partner
a forever home
to rise and celebrate the suns arrival
together
holding hands
knowing
all is right
with the world
and
in
my
life
this very moment is perfect
and imperfect
i know this longing
i live in this loneliness
i celebrate this awareness
and this second
when i can pull words
out of thin and chillier air
to muse about my future lovers
my future homes
my future resting place
now
i
know
i
am
love
10-27-21
more than a love poem
[from strange horizons poems]
a love day
to celebrate the year of changes
growth
kisses
and deep understanding
seeing you again today for the first time
i am reminded how easy you are to adore
that first laugh infected my heart
pulling me out of a slumber
brave and strong
aspiring to stand beside you
true
open
vulnerable
seen
reflecting back
brief moments of joy
and belonging
together
1-15-16
into the heart of the sun
[from the collection nyc m]
if i were more excited
more alive
more in love
i’m not sure
i could remain on the planet
any longer
i’m fairly sure
that one more epiphany
a word choice or sound
might do the trick
i think
as i imagine how i’d go
it would be
as if in a hot air balloon
with no balloon
and no sound or flashes of fire
i would float
above this majestic mess
and continue on my way
until the air ran out
or the sun
sucked me in to its heart
with a smile and a song
even in losing everything
even you
i would know love
peace
and joy beyond measure
that’s how i feel
everyday i wake up next to
my
most amazing
girl
6-22-15
splendored
[from the collection nyc m]
and what if i were to tell you
to actually let. you. know.
for sure
that love
in all it’s many splendored splinters
is true
that it’s still possible in your life
no matter
no time
no hurt
has taken away your potential to love
we ache for the oporutnity
to pour ourselves into another person
and sometimes we forget
we have that person but we miss
we slip into something
other than
adoration
but even then
even now
in this second
you can turn it around
you you you
can take a breath
make a change
and keep yourself
angled in the right direction
it’s not easy
i’m not trying to kid
or sell you a load
but i am here
to at least deliver the good news
love has struck
right here
right in this very moment
and you are now witness
to a great moment
a longing beyond ages
a fracture that felt unrepairable
two people
wandering wondering questioning
and in
a
split
sec.
ond.
finding something so
pro. found.
deep.
clear and present
that the time stretched and compressed all at once
and we knew
knew
just knew
everything since that moment has been a confirmation
a testing without testing
a smile and tickle
a laugh and launch toward what we had almost imagined
unattainable
but we never gave up
not completely
never lost sight
and
in this second
right here
i can only tell you
that the love of my life
took 52 years to show up
to deliver me
from sadness and aloneness
to
this
fine
moment
completed
whole
and
happy
6-21-15
love times five
[from the collection nyc m]
word and hand
finger and smile
you are here
and all the world
is rushing by
oblivious to the transformation
taking place
right here
between us
underneath the daytime stars
in and around
strawberry fields
of joy
this
moment
is the last
moment
we will spend
this far away
as we surge forward
into
a new
relationship
status
a
new celebration
for our friends
of what we’ve known
since
the week
we first kissed
6-21-15
calling all lovers
[from strange horizons poems]
doesn’t your soul love to travel
isn’t your heart ready to soar
and in these moments when you are grounded
can’t you still taste the salt
remember the heat
and anticipation of a kiss
memory of the burning
and skin worn glow
12-27-14
image: secret kiss, kristen, creative commons usage
shooting arrows at the moon
[from strange horizons poems]
i have work to do
and i’m thinking about women again
the absence of them, actually
in my life
in the romantic sense
i’ve got sister, daughter, niece, and mom
and not a single bosom to lay my head
this time of year
it’s a problem
or at least a hardship
of course, it is no different than last year
except i’d just come off a deep jag
with a beautiful young mom
who had a penchant for silences
and filling them with music videos
fancy meals and drugs
i couldn’t sustain
the celebration
long enough to understand or feel
how our connection might evolve
into a higher…
wait!
a more solid…
no!
it wasn’t about that
let’s be honest
she was 11 years younger
she was beautiful
she was willing
is there any further explanation needed
still
i would do with her comfort today
tonight, rather
and yet, i wait and hunger
with intention
it *is* the evolution i’m seeking
a transformation of some sort
of me
of my trajectory
and flights of fancy
my arrow is aimed at the moon
and i will settle for nothing less
than overwhelming joy
12-14-14
image: goldion moon, johnathan leung, creative commons usage
before the transformation
[from a second wave – poetry]
and in the rush the throng the bustle
i love you more than ever
where ever you may be
in this blackest of all black fridays
so far from me at this moment
yet so close in flame and spirit
i am prepping myself for your arrival
with strengthening exercises and lip balm
making playlists for lovemaking
and perfecting breakfast routines
it’s no wonder, no mystery, why you’re hiding
the ache inside each of us
has not synchronized
the destabilization of our old lives
is still in progress
time before
and time after
your arrival
11-24-14
ready for the yes
[from a second wave – poetry]
i fall too easily
into the curls
of the woman in the green dress
a shape and form of attractive proportions
and i would say yes
to whatever she suggested
before she’s even had a chance to speak
thus is the romantic
and the poet
captivated by beauty
driven by desires
unspoken yet captured
in this random scattering of letters
i amuse myself
with this whimsical passion
and flights of fancy towards bright ringlets
usually i’m drawn to darker locks
but still the yearning is real
i am the poet of longing
of imagining my lover into existence
if that was how it worked
but i don’t need to capture her
only this song this prayer this appreciation
i don’t need to smell her perfume
or hear the sound of her voice
talking about things i might find less alluring
and there she is
whole, complete, perfect
and distant
this is not what i want
i want close skin
whispered passions
raucous laughter
i want to be loved back
to be fascinated by the curve of an ankle
the tease of a toe peering out of a sandal
but not the promise
not the imagination of her
i am ready for her
the woman
the yes
the
“what’s next”
7-14-14
image: random girls, thomas xu, creative commons usage
What Is A Love Poem?
Why does love elude accurate descriptions? Why is love perhaps the most sought after ghost and the song most sung by those of us who feel?
And the love letter too. So sad that such delicate work is not more widely shared. Often the masterpiece of passion and longing is shared by only two. Is it the privacy that makes it special. Is it the voyeurism that makes them so tasty to read?
Putting love, or our fleeting attempts to capture love, is a grand tradition. I am doing nothing unique or especially different. Of course, my word stream for it will be different from yours. Do you let yours out? If you gave expression to a love poem, right now, what would that sound that ringing of letters tell about your feelings.
Each love poem is a measure of the heart. Often those measurements and mappings are colored by the day’s events. Occasionally they are triggered by a smell, a memory, a glimpse of a photograph that held a tiny sliver of magic.
If we open up our own hearts, opening the veins a little, and let the expressions tumble out, even just for ourselves, we become more familiar with the soundings of our hearts. And as we get more comfortable with the process an amazing thing begins to happen. There is more love.
As we pay attention to certain things they become more important in our lives. And what is more important than love?
Word by word I try to get down something of my longing, quickly, unedited, and with the full force of my feelings. As best I can. But there are many things in the way of a love poem. Chores. Money requirements and thus work. Sadness. (Though finding a voice for the sadness is a way to release what might be underneath, longing for love.)
And poetry is not for everyone. Perhaps a clearly written love letter would be more to the point.
However for me, there is great freedom in allowing my heart and linguistic brain to try to hook up for a moment. Bypassing the editorial board for a minute, I occasionally achieve a satisfying result. But even the bad poems have a purpose. Even writing a poor love letter is better than not expressing that love at all.
Something about letting the expression out of your heart, through your words and sounds and letters on a page, that gives room for more. Each love poem inspires the next. And if you can nurture that “lover’s voice” wouldn’t you rather be speaking in tongues, than writing up another to-do list?
Each. Poem. Has. Value.
And if you write love poems or love letters, focusing on LOVE is a powerful medicine. And the transformation takes place without any effort once you let the flow start. Your heart and language begin to connect more frequently. You see things as LOVE again. You observe love or lack of love in the world, but rather than squelch it off you give voice to your feelings on the subject. It’s a process of opening yourself again to love and loving.
And of course, love is dangerous. If I let myself fall into a poetic trance and forget to pick up my child from school, there are consequences. If I muse for the entire afternoon without getting my work for money done, I’m not serving my life very well.
So love poems have to be tucked into our lives where ever and when ever we can find the impulse. There are so many distractions and requirements that would rather us not pay attention to our hearts, our impulses towards beauty. But with each turning back towards the heart, with each sounding out of a poem of desire, we strengthen that voice in our lives.
>> Explore more writing ideas here: The Writer’s Notebook >>
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
image via creative commons use – beauty in death
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
