The Love Poems
2
Poetry, like love
takes time
One must Set the stage
Cry the ancient river from far against the shore
Observe sea faring monsters and hold the other’s crown
Gallop the stallion at spume of churning dusk
Ignore the headstones in cemeteries
spread like poppies over country fields
watercolor by Scottish artist Sheila Mitchell
Poetry is like love
Ignite the bonfire that catches clothes ablaze
With thunderbolts from heaven
Spread your hair as blankets
In time with the music
Forget the compliments from wide-eyed readers
From star struck fanatics
From light lipped lads
Surrender to the ethers when thousands stand booing
Love is like poetry
It’s doors magically open with proper fondling
Just when I arrive back on earth
I hear the kick at heaven’s door
Love is like poetry
Its fragile breath comes alive
At the strangest hour
Like a changeling morphs the woman
from wife to muse,
from wife to lover,
to mistress, paramour, concubine, flirt.
The shovel in miniature for the hole before me.
Leave love to youth?
As I feel the mighty change my
Wrinkling mind fogs, breasts sag, skin slacks scales tip
No Wait
I have not forgotten
Love is like money and it’s 5 ways.
I have earned it
As I have inherited it
As I have married it
Naturally, I have stolen it.
Honestly have I won it?
There we are at cross-purposes.
To conjure love is to go into battle.
I am not certain I can carry the gun.
Better to dream under a canopy of trees,
Better to laugh at ideas,
Better to love fashion and it’s pleated starched collars,
laced brocaded jackets,
Shoes adorned with velvet,
undergarments of heavy silk,
scarves trimmed in sable like
air of angels upon my neck
Gloves of leather in brilliant colour
Robes of cashmere over satin gowns
Hats embellished with cabbage roses
Precious cargo in which to win.
Yes, I see ropes of pearls,
I see carbuncles of rubies, I see sapphires, I see diamonds,
and fragrance pressed from exotic flowers,
Oh the calculus of places to engage
Tweed suits with massive jewels pinned to the shoulder
What do I seek?
Knowledge in a taffeta skirt.
There is so much to love
If one looks closely.
The drop of rain on the bloom of the flower
The fragrance of cut grass
The smile in my lover’s eyes.
Did I say lover, you know I mean my husband,
And all the delights of the world
Literature, music, the arts, fashion.
After all one must clothe oneself.
Kathleen Matson Blurock lives in Los Angeles, California, and is a member of the Los Angeles Poets and Writers Collective. She has written and self published 8 chapbooks, produced and directed a short film on makeup, Ritual 93, published interviews with film director Henry Jaglom and actor Viveca Lindfors, and acted in Jaglom’s VENICE/VENICE, SHOPPING and HOLLYWOOD DREAMS.
Stunning
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