Wednesday, March 21, 2007

A little love poetry to blow away the cobwebs!

Love Hemlock

Memory now sees her
without a body, in whose eyes I see
a glimpse of her, mixed in the glass of me.

A bottle of pure love
quite suddenly, being poured out in my head,
becomes poison, hurting, in streams of red.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

I really like the phrase "into the glass of me" and I also like "hurting, in streams of red". Actually, I really like this whole poem. When I first read it it kind of reminded me of Frost's "A Dust of Snow" for some weird reason. Totally different poems but the feeling's the same I guess. Anyway. I really like your poem is what I meant to say.

Stephen said...

Thanks for the kind response. Believe it or not, that poem took ages. But, yes, by the end I really liked it myself, and I'm glad you did too. It's a universal feeling I suppose, unfortunately. It felt kind of therapeutic.

Fionnuala said...

I sent you a 'proper email' in return for yours!! Talk soon, F.

Anonymous said...

i have never read as much crap in all my life - if you r nout havin' a cold you just spew absulute crap. true talent nonetheless

Anonymous said...

Hello Stephen, I'm your bird from Camera Obscura - you remember - the one that accused you of being a swinger. Just thought I would drop ye a line sayin' how much I look forward to slaggin' ye again in Belfast, ya pervert ye!

Ta very much,
Hen