Friday, February 3, 2012

Poetry - Kathleen Blurock

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. 


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