April, Poetry Month - Kathleen Blurock - The Love Poems

The Love Poems
Kathleen Blurock


4.

i LOVE you and          LOVE
is not final. 
Love is all I have
                  Master stamped upon me.
Bone to bone it lives within me
the thread of silken memory
remains alive inside my heart

All the petals of the flower
My lovers
My husbands
My friends.

The artist       the Photographer  
The Elitist whose taste was a thing to
behold.
The mother who forgot herself for others.
The wife, trapped inside the marriage.
The hangers on - like crystals, their
water frozen in the caves of their bodies.
                I love you.

The poet, the decorator, the attorney
aster craftsman at keeping ahead of the game.

The athlete south African whalebone,
the sensitive heart the painter, now dead,
I love you.
People tell me what they cannot tell
others
I hold their memories.
The silken threads twist
bone to bone between friends.

The high school classmate who lives on in the place of our birth, holding what the place IS, or what the place WAS, and over time turns the memory holy and passes it between us as one passes the beads of a rosary.

Spirit of June
Mother of the Universe,
Spirit of Venus, lady of animals, star of the sea,
                               spirit of Mnemosonye
Greek goddess of memory,        Mother of the muses,

Friends fall away,
                          focus shifts
      and love is
                      an open pushcart of airborne doves          Beckett's
                                                 face
snow on evergreens in the forest,
what forest, any forest
painting of gold tiles above a bed dressed in cream and lace
Deibenkorn's black highway      swathed in green


LOVE is
           syncopations in time
barebacked Picasso
His poach coddle, his mandatory, his
overleaf swirl face

wide eyed PLATONIC

                                               LOVE IS
the spotlight of tide pools near the sea

the heavy silk folds on my evening
gown
We covet what is forbidden.

The Mona Lisa
The starlit night
The twisted steel in Denmark

We LOVE what we LOVE

the landscape
the mountains
the oceans

your name       my name

our home.




This is #4 in a group called THE LOVE POEMS, written by Kathleen Blurock 2008.

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Watch for #5 during April, National Poetry month.

Kathleen Matson Blurock lives in Los Angeles, California. She has written 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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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.