Thursday 13 June 2013

The Truth of the Affair. Poems of a personal nature.

Loving you is the sweetest
thing I've ever known
and the hardest.


The Lot of a Mistress



The lot of the mistress is sometimes hard.
Maybe I should explain:
she has to be constantly on her guard
against loneliness and pain.

No matter how much he tries to show
that she more than passes the test
she knows that as far as priorities go
she comes a poor second at best.

He can never put her or her feelings first
his wife and his homelife are there
no matter how much she may hunger or thirst
he has only a little to spare.

And yet she persists in this lonely life;
why, you may ask, does she do it?
Because she loves him, despite his wife,
even though she knows she may rue it.

Of course there are benefits wives don't have
she doesn't get any flack
she can do what she likes the rest of the time
without anyone on her back

But that doesn't really make up for the days
and hours she spends just missing
him and his tender loving ways
and the holding and the kissing.

The lot of the mistress is sometimes tough
as she watches the silent phone;
the time with her lover is never enough
and she fears she may die alone.

© Jan 2002


Every Mistress

I guess it is no mystery
every mistress throughout history
though pretty her face
has known her place
in the layout of his life

to be admired and adored
when her lover is feeling bored
and keep her distance
whenever his stance
is devotion to his wife

so I too must grin and bear
the times when my love isn't there
though all I have seen
are words on a screen
the messages he sends

often we enjoy some laughter
smiles which last for some days after
sharing our dreams
scheming our schemes
the very best of friends

Sept 2002


 Brain Fever

I've taken leave of my senses
now what am I going to do?
I've fallen in love with a married man
I'm really in a stew.

The sight of him across a room
the mention of his name
and willingly I burn my wings
a moth drawn to his flame

It must be a kind of madness
a fever affecting the brain
this kind of suffering seems to be
unkind and inhumane

but no matter how I suffer
this fever will run its course
a cure, if cure indeed there be,
is something I just can't force.

© Nov 2002


Fires of Hell

His kisses hit like heroin
and set my soul afire.
Like nothing else I've ever known
they took me higher and higher.
I don't know how this happened
I can't explain it well
but now my tortured body burns,
burns in fires of hell.

Reaching out a tender hand
he touched my fevered brow
and, trembling, I returned his touch
robbed of reason now.
I know the addict pays the price
I knew it when I fell
and now my tortured body burns,
burns in fires of hell.

There are no easy answers here
people say it's wrong
and yet I can't resist his kiss
the craving is so strong.
Across the miles they call to me
his touch, his taste, his smell
and so my tortured body burns,
burns in fires of hell.

Love's a word the poets use
and I am in its thrall
it's better to have loved and lost
than not to love at all
and love has got me in a whirl
upon its carousel
and still my tortured body burns,
burns in fires of hell...

I burn in fires of hell.

© Nov 2002




Jealousy

He's jealous.
Him.
The married one.
Wants me all to himself I guess
though he knows he's being unreasonable.
Funny thing is, I'm not jealous at all.
He loves his wife and family
and so he should say I.
I have to make do with just the crumbs
the odd hello, a hurried kiss
but let me get myself a date
and he gets all upset!
Men! What can you do?

© Nov 2002


Divine Madness. 

Madness divine has me in its thrall
I feel no guilt, no shame at all
whether I shall stand or fall
is in the lap of the gods

Since first I heard temptation's call
like some helpless thing I crawl
a billowed sail before a squall
que sera sera

Engulfed as in some silken shawl
I helpless watch my own downfall
Cupid's game is rigged withal
and written in the stars

With love the stakes are never small
though out of luck I'm standing tall
the crown's to the victor after all
and the devil take the hindmost

© Dec 2002


A Promise Kept

A promise kept, a wish fulfilled
a taste of paradise
wise or foolish, who can say,
the terms are imprecise.

This one day only, possibly
a few brief stolen hours
but if this is all, so be it
we made the moment ours

And such a magic moment
a time of total trust
a precious time, a wondrous time
so much more than lust

A kind of love we've never known
has us enslaved it seems
but if this is all, so be it
we'll relive it in our dreams.

© Dec 2002


A Kind Of Hush

I lay in silent wonder as
you knelt between my thighs
and watched your hands
such gentle hands
move across the soft pale flesh
that lay before your gaze
an enraptured gaze it seems
as wordlessly you worked your magic
taking me along on
this journey of discovery
each moment bringing new delights
new sensations, first time feelings

mesmerised, you moved so slowly
silently and solemnly
giving me no clue
as to how you really felt
only now in retrospect
I know what I could not know then
that you were simply overwhelmed
too tremulous to speak

© Dec 2002

Journey of Discovery

To this unfamiliar land
he came intent on exploration
eager and expectant
he sought her secret heart.

Wonderingly he wandered freely
scaled her mountains
roamed her valleys
strolled her fragrant pastures
searched every crevice, high and low
photographed each scenic view.

Sadly, time was not his friend
and all too soon ran out on him
so though exultant, still he felt
an overwhelming hunger;
he knew that there was much much more
yet to be discovered here
so, heart aglow, he left her
vowing to return.

© Dec 2002


 One Perfect Moment.

Caught up in the moment
a moment so exquisite
so infinitely tender
words were quite inadequate
when, suddenly, tears of joy
emerging all unbidden
hesitantly trickled down
to mingle with my hair

Hastily I wiped them
the more to reassure you
but there, in your eyes
I saw the misty moistness
echoing my own
and knew that in that moment
- that one perfect moment -
we two had touched heaven
and survived.

© Dec 2002


Hibernation

There is a frog which hibernates
in frozen isolation
suspended animation
preserved by alcohol

I too have to overwinter
every time you're not around
in absolute seclusion
life suspended, barely breathing

What good is my heart?
It merely moves the blood around
without you here to warm it
it may as well be dead

When you reappear
you bring the springtime with you
quickening my pulses
with revitalising love.

© Dec 2002


Possibilities Undreamed of

Someone had to reach me
eventually

I'd have festered here
inscrutable                                                                                                                       
interminably
indubitably

but you came
from nowhere
insistently
insightfully

holding out your hand
you touched my lonely soul
opened up my mind

to possibilities
undreamed of

© Dec 2002


Woman to Woman

When a man's home life is all work and no play
it's then that he's tempted to play away
temptation's around him every day
and resisting it can be tough.

Don't let the romance wither away
you know how you'd hate to wake up one day
to find that the price was too much to pay
and your husband has had enough.

A woman like me he can meet any day
available free, so he don't have to pay
he gets all the loving he needs that way
and remorse? He won't give a stuff.

You think it's a price he won't want to pay?
You think it can't happen to you that way?
Believe me the truest of men will stray
when the bed you've made is too rough.

Of course it's not bound to go that way
you may have a husband who will not stray
but to gamble with love is a hell of a play
and he just might call your bluff.


© Dec 2002


Love's For Fools?

No man is useless who has a friend, and if we are loved we are indispensable.
Robert Louis Stevenson, novelist, essayist, and poet  (1850-1894)


If fool I be 'tis sad perhaps
but rather fool than lonely;
his love for me my heart enwraps
and not my poor heart only.

The first sweet kiss was powerful
but that was just the start
a sense of bliss most wonderful
each day pervades my heart.

I am to him, as he to me,
a friend and, more, a lover.
No passing whim or fancy, he;
as you may well discover.

You may deride my love affair
and say that love's for fools
but, starry-eyed, I often dare
to flout convention's rules.

And so, my friend, if fool I be
perhaps I am obtuse.
If love should end 'twixt him and me
at least I've been of use.

© Jan 2003


Lost

Lost my love? Oh no.
He isn't lost at all.
It's me who's lost
lost in his kiss
lost in his arms
lost in bliss
lost in these feelings
of absolute pleasure
utter contentment
moments to treasure
lost for the hours
we have together
lost as we hurtle
hell for leather
into a future all unknown
to reap what comes from
the seeds we've sown.
Lost my love? Oh no.
He isn't lost but found.
I found him and he found me
now we're lovers
don't you see?
with a love as strong
as a big oak tree
growing on fertile ground.


© Jan 2003


Cinderella

Life got so dreadfully dreary
as she sat on her own every day
waiting for that invitation
to hopefully hurry her way

When it came it was quite unexpected
not really a dream coming true;
though it felt like some kind of magic
it lacked the odd detail or two.

There is no fairy godmother
except for the one in her head;
no magic wand to alter the fact
that her true love was already wed.

So although she met her Prince Charming
there'll be no happy ending at all.
This is one Cinderella
who shall not go to the ball.


© Jan 2003



A Much Better Lover

I make a much better lover than a wife;
my domestic skills leave much to be desired.
I can cook and I can sew,
change a plug, make fires go,
I can even decorate if it's required.

But of all the many things I do in life,
of all the skills that somehow I've acquired,
there really isn't one
that doesn't feel like fun
it seems to me I need to be inspired.

Housework, let's face it girls, is strife;
yet a tidy house is one to be desired.
I know I should do more
but it's really such a bore
and besides I'm perpetually tired.

I make a much better lover than a wife;
my bedroom skills have never been reviled.
I make my lover glow
with a simple soft "hello"
and I think I know just how to drive him wild.

The clutter in my domicile is rife;
I admit I'm as untidy as a child.
I know I shouldn't play
without putting things away
and getting all my papers neatly filed

But I think I have found my lot in life;
to my ways I'm becoming reconciled.
I'll just do what I can
and make whoopee with my man
for as long as I can keep the guy beguiled.


© Jan 2003


 Three Minute Man

He told me his nickname was "three minute man".
Well, that proved to be a misnomer.
When he's with me he's like Desperate Dan
- just think of doughnuts and Homer.
He seems to have got him a new lease of life
and it may seem a pity that I'm not his wife
but this may be better, we don't have the strife.
Still, I think he deserves a diploma.

© April 2003



Bitter Sweet

A bitter sweet affair

honey and lemon 
in equal measure

growing pleasure
when together

time apart
more tart.

© 2003
 

Mary and Martha

Mary and Martha;
sisters, worlds apart.
Each loved equally;
appreciated separately and
valued in their variance.

My home, her home,
his world divided.
Each loved equally,
availed of independently,
desiring their antithesis.


© 2003

Memories

I'm accumulating memories;
a treasury of precious times
of scarlet, gold, and blue.

A day may come, a rainy day,
when all is lost, save thinking,
and that's when I'll remember
these outrageous things we do.

All they will see is wrinkles,
white hair and withered limbs,
eyes that look into the past,
a small secret smile suggesting
memories
of you.

©2003


Intoxication

'Tis heady wine, this love of mine;
an intoxicating potion.
My brain aborts all saner thoughts
and runs on raw emotion.
Without a doubt my mind can flout
all semblance of convention
though now and then I count to ten
with wisdom's intervention.

It seems to me where'er I be
I ought to act more shrewdly
but still I find my foolish mind
behaving rather crudely.
The kind of things that passion brings
to bear upon proceedings
are not the sort that I was taught
in all those bible readings!

Love's potent charm can quite disarm 
and leave one most unwary.
The mind is closed, the heart exposed,
which seems somehow contrary,
as if the pair, all unaware
were two opposing factions
whereas I find my heart and mind
desire the same attractions.

And so I live and take and give,
and suffer all this madness
for one who knows and comes and goes
to share with me this gladness.
We two are blessed but careful lest
it all should end in sorrow;
drunk on the wine we're feeling fine
but what about tomorrow?

© April 2003


A Lover

When I speak of a lover, that's just what I mean
He's married, if you hadn't guessed.
I'm his mistress, paramour, bit on the side,
and he reckons I'm one of the best.

I've had other men, even younger than him,
who contact me now and then
hoping to hear that I'm once again free
they're just waiting for me to say when.

But this one is special, above all the rest
and it's not down to fortune or fame,
it's got nothing to do with the way that he looks
or some wonderful high sounding name.

No, the thing that I value, the thing that I love
is the way that my lover loves me;
we fell for each other the first time we met
and we just can't deny it you see.

I make no excuses, what is there to say?
Our encounters are often quite brief
because time spent with me means he isn't at home;
some people would call me a thief.

Perhaps it is wrong to be happy this way.
I used to believe that myself
but I'll be here for him just as long as he wants,
till he puts me back up on the shelf.

© 2003


Heaven in the Midst

An oasis in the desert's heat
a refuge from a life of stress
a taste of heaven now and then
a respite in the midst of hell.
A loving touch, a warm embrace
a kiss or two, a yes, oh! yes
it's what we are, it's what we do
and all in all we do it well

Some R & R, some T L C
a time to find some peace at last
to just relax, unwind, and be
two happy bunnies, come what may.
Once in a while this comes about
hours which speed by all too fast
then life returns to what it was
until the next red circled day.

© Jan 2003


Extraordinary Moments

They met as friends and fell in love,
as can happen now and then.
Two ordinary people who will
never be the same again.

The love that bound their hearts that night
gets stronger as the days go by;
each stolen, scintillating, second
making two hearts soar on high.

Each sweet caress, each tender touch,
each melting magic kiss sublime,
is something very, very precious;
love is growing all the time.

Sometimes they share every breath
behind the carefully closed blinds,
sometimes sharing only words;
a distant meeting of two minds

but, near or far, these times of bliss
will last as long as love survives;
such extraordinary moments
in two ordinary lives.

© 2003

What Lies Between



A monochrome existence,
a technicolor dream;
a million miles and the thickness
of a street door lie between.

© 2003


Falling Apart

It hurts so much
when he has to go;
the highs are so high
the lows, so low.
He leaves each time
with a piece of my heart;
little by little
I'm falling apart.

© March 2003


Nothing Succeeds Like a Bird

Pushed from pillow to post, in fashion,
round the house
as we espouse
love, or precisely, passion.

Situations I'd once despise
now excite
through or despite
taking me by surprise.

Taking up a position of thrust,
making hay
night or day
before I turn to rust.

Bit by bit I love and learn;
grow, it seems,
fulfilling dreams
and fantasies by turn.

Whether I am dressed to thrill,
dishabillé
whatever way,
I'm out to get my fill.

I've always liked to get my kicks
with a man
but yes, you can
teach an old dog new tricks.

Words and phrases, modern, strange -
It's a biggie,
Gettin' jiggy -
modify my range.

Just because there may be snow
on the roof
I'm not aloof;
inside I am aglow.

Deep in me, the fervent blaze
your every stroke,
your kisses, stoke
and leave me in a daze.

You pander to the beast in me,
the primitive
who longs to live
fierce and wild and free.

Come now, fill my every need;
take me higher,
douse the fire,
and maybe I'll succeed.

©  Oct 2003


Grey skies

Grey northern skies fill me with gloom
another lonely Christmas looms
while secret love my hearts entombs

I love him but is that enough?
he loves me too I know and yet -
what is this thing called love?

caring sharing - aye
but there's the rub

sharing...

stolen kisses
stolen hours

always one eye on the clock
always talk of his and hers
always holding something back
lest some sign suspicion stirs

borrowed love - a sometime thing -
diminishes the borrower
but a bird in the hand is worth a lot
and beggars can't be choosers.


© Nov 2003


 A Desert Isle

An isolated desert isle
untouched and lonely to the core
until a work-worn traveler
should land upon my shore.

He comes here for refreshment,
his need is great, his hunger strong.
He'll drink of me, eat and be filled,
and leave before too long.

And though it's hard to see him go
I welcome him when he returns;
the fire first lit within my tangled
heart still brightly burns.

For he will come again, I know,
to seek the cool refreshing stream,
the warmth that eases weary bones,
a place where he can dream.

To be a city might be grand;
- exhilarating, heaven knows -
but I am where this man will come
when seeking some repose.


© 2004


Surrendered Passion

Surrendered passion
plucks the heart strings,
mournful melodies
chilling the soul.

Misery mingles
with fond farewells;
illusions lie
abandoned and cold.

© 2004


Still

Still addicted, still obsessed
still I find in you the best;
best of any man I've known
how my love for you has grown;
grown so overpowering
yet I don't regret a thing.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained;
nothing's lost that's been obtained.
Everything you give to me,
everything in you I see,
all is wondrous, all is well;
treasured more than words can tell.

All you've ever meant to me
lies here under lock and key,
safe within my inner heart,
safe lest we should ever part;
memories of you and I,
thoughts to last me till I die.

© 2004


One Single Hour

One single hour,
that's all we had today
to love, to laugh, to smile, to play,
to say the things we had to say.
One single hour.

One fleeting hour,
so soon it passed us by;
with loving word and poignant sigh,
ephemeral as a butterfly.
One fleeting hour.

One precious hour;
though short it meant so much;
providing, as it did, your touch.
Some things are worth the waiting, such
as one precious hour.

© 2004


Adam and Eve

Lancelot and Guinevere
Paolo and Francesca;
a story of illicit love
told time and time again.

Who can understand what
madness leads to infidelity?
None but those tormented souls
whose hearts are rent in twain.

© 2004


A Latterly Chatterly

A lady? Me? A latterly Chatterly?
Hardly, my dear. Oh no.
Humble beginnings: bricklayers, miners,
itinerant sorts - you know,
always working but never rich
and little education;
decent people, salt of the earth,
with guts and determination.

Anything I've made of myself
came from breaking free,
finding out what the world was about;
there was no silver spoon for me.
Yet still you call me a lady -
I really don't know why.
What can I do to convince you?
Should I even try?

You tell me ladies and gentlemen
aren't born or made that way.
It's something that they have to become
day by day by day;
growing into something grand,
not destined by descent.
But if I'm a lady in those terms
then truly you're a gent!

© 2004


Every Time

Every time we say goodbye
it's as the old song says;
I smile although I want to cry
through endless lonely days.

The time has come, the walrus said
to talk of many things,
and we should talk of this, my dear,
not cabbages, or kings,

but of the way my aching heart
just can't endure much more.
I'm weary of this kind of life,
of opening my door

to one who never will be mine
except for fleeting hours,
time tainted with despondency.
See how the sweetness sours.

The strongest rock is worn away
by tiny drops of rain;
with tears dissolving my resolve,
how long can love remain?

© 2004



On Being the Other Woman

Of course it's never easy -
if and when and hoping, but

the worst thing, the hardest thing,
is when we're out of touch;

the sometime silence that descends
when life gets in the way.

Then this awful thought arises: 
should you die I'd never know,

left in the dark to wonder
unable to move on.


© 2004




The Sub

He's missing the icing on his cake;
I'm missing my daily bread.
He's wondering when he'll see me again
I'm wondering if he's dead.
As much as he tries to understand,
we have two different views;
he's no idea what he means to me
for he isn't in my shoes.

Being a man he can shut me out,
compartmentalise.
Being a woman I can't do that;
he's ever before my eyes.
I've no other love in the times between,
it's him or nothing at all;
he can't understand how lonely it gets,
like being left out in the hall,

or sitting alone in the changing room
and rarely asked to play
while the others are out there having fun;
alive in every way.
I feel like a substitute of sorts
with an unattainable dream;
good, but not quite good enough
to make it onto the team.

© 2004


Emptiness

Out of touch for two whole weeks -
the hollowness inside,
like something vital missing,
like part of me has died.

The most god-awful emptiness
when I don't know you're safe,
or whether you still care for me,
oh! how the worries chafe!

Gnawing at my vitals,
draining me of life,
convincing me it's over and
I've lost you to your wife.

Whate'er the rights and wrongs of it
I miss you, times like this.
Oh, hurry back to me my love,
bestow your own sweet kiss.

Just to know you love me
and need mine in return
is all I need to stoke the fires,
these fires that brightly burn,

that turn my nights of longing
to days of ecstasy
illuminating all my life.
How much you mean to me!

 © 2004

You Turd

 Each day I seem to see your face
most everywhere I look
'cause I still love you babe,
I still love you

and yours is still the only name
written in my book
'cause I still love you baby,
I still love you.

Through an inch of whiskey
things get a little blurred
though nothing really helps much
and it's probably absurd
but I can't help feeling lost somehow,
bereft of you, you turd,

but I still love you babe,
I still love you.

© 2004


Drowning

Where does it start to go wrong?
When does it stop being fun any more?
Falling from grace, from unreachable heights,
to confusion and doubt and a mournful song.
Floundering now in a sea of unease,
not trusting the lifelines you throw.

What brings about this decline?
Just misunderstanding or something worse?
Some sinister motive, insidious and dark
or simply confusion, as overworked minds
and fertile imaginings go to town,
leaving discernment at home?

As we sink beneath waves of despair
we try to remember the way it was,
the day we met and the many days since,
the joy and the ecstasy, feelings we've shared,
overwhelmed now by a turn of events
that threatens to end all we know.

© 2004


Left?

It looks like my love is leaving me -
it's hard to believe, I know -
with everything we had going for us
why would he want to go?

I'm sure he hasn't tired of the fun -
he was anything but bored -
but lately he doesn't contact me.
I'm feeling very ignored.

Perhaps I'm being paranoid -
possibly being unfair,
maybe he isn't leaving but
he simply isn't there.

No sign of him on messenger
no reassuring word,
no call or text on the mobile phone;
it's getting quite absurd.

I sit and wonder what's going on:
has his pc simply died?
Is his cell phone out of order?
Has he tried and tried and tried?

Maybe he's lying ill in bed
unable to get to a phone,
or laid up in the hospital
with a horribly broken bone.

But, whatever the reason,
he isn't getting in touch
you'd think that he could find a way
if he cared for me that much.

The only thing I'll excuse him for -
and I don't think I'm being mean -
is if he's in a coma,
wired up to a machine.

If it carries on much longer
there's only one thing to do:
I'll find me another lover,
or possibly even two.

It's not as if I couldn't;
there are plenty of men out there
and it's not as if I wouldn't -
I have plenty of love to share!

I wish my lover would contact me -
I really miss him, you know -
but if that's the way he wants it,
I'll have to let him go.

© 2004


Love's Old Sweet Song.

Thinking now of his gentle kiss,
his slow sweet smile, his tender touch,
how can I help but yearn? I miss 
the look in his eyes that says so much.

A few short weeks is all, and yet
it seems so very long ago
since my beloved and I last met.
Time drags its feet and dawdles so.

I feel so empty, a hollow shell;
cold and grey as a winter sky.
I'd no idea one could freeze in hell;
perhaps its fires are just a lie.

He seems to imagine I'm all right,
that nothing I need could come from him
for, though the candle is still alight,
a flickering flame can seem to dim.

Wrenched apart by wretched fate,
lonely nights follow dreary days
but how could he think I would not wait?
He changed my life in so many ways.

I'm twice the person I was before:
twice as confident, twice as strong,
for he found a way to my frozen core
and placed within love's old sweet song.

© 2004



Perplexed.

Don't write me off just yet, you said,
before you went away
and so I settled down to wait,
day by day by day.

I don't think I'm impatient
although it seemed so bleak
when still I had no word from you
as week succeeded week

but now the weeks turn into months
and really I'm perplexed.
I knew I wouldn't see you but -
an email or a text?

I'm feeling rather foolish
and feel inclined to scoff.
So - how long do I give it then,
before I write you off?

© Oct 2004





Teddy Bear

Perched upon my bedhead is a little beanie bear;
one who has a secret, so he says.
His beady eyes regard me with a concentrated stare
yet bring to mind another's loving gaze.

Now you may think I'm far too old for things so infantile,
but that seems somewhat ageist and unfair;
this scarlet, soft plush teddy has more value, by a mile,
than any fancy diamond solitaire.

This small romantic token watches over me at night;
he tells me that my lover loves me still,
never out of mind, although he may be out of sight,
the memories continuing to thrill.

I treasure Secret Bear for he reminds me every day
that for a while, at least, such joy was mine.
The future is uncertain but I know that, come what may,
I have known love, and loved, and it was fine.


© 2005


A Love Like Ours

I guess our time is over;
it had to come some day.
I don't regret a single thing
whatever folk may say.
I had the best times of my life
and got as well as gave
a love that will survive when
I'm cold within my grave.
For love as good as ours, babe,
won't die because we do;
the flesh may fade and wither but
the love I have for you
will live on in eternity
inhabiting the stars,
softly glow in moonbeams,
echo from guitars
with every song of love, babe,
played in every place;
unmistakably observed
on every lover's face.
For this love wasn't ours alone;
we merely played our part.
Our love will live forever, babe,
in every lover's heart.

© Nov 2004


Neverland

My hair's forgotten how to curl;
I've had no love in ages.
Not for me the social whirl;
my diary's all blank pages.

Since my lover disappeared
I've searched for a successor.
Sadly, though, it's as I feared;
there's none that isn't lesser.

No other man can take his place
but why should any try it?
Who else has his loving face?
The richest couldn't buy it.

It seems I'm stuck in Neverland,
a heart without a dwelling.
Must I remain fore'er unmanned?
There's just no way of telling.


 © Dec 2004


A Cold Wind Blowing

There's a cold wind blowing through a hole in my heart;
it's been there since we said goodbye.
It's kept on growing since the day we had to part
and it's hard to ignore, though I try.
There's no going back but I miss what we had,
I thought I was over him. I must have been mad,
cause every remembrance just makes me sad.
There's a cold wind blowing through my heart.

© 2005


Equal Measure

Pain and pleasure in equal measure
is how it used to be;
I'd sit around to hear the sound
that said he wanted me.

Where's the gain in all that pain;
am I a masochist?
And yet I find no peace of mind;
to love is to exist.

God knows I've tried to put aside
my feelings for the man.
What more remains to tax my brains?
I've done all that I can.

My heart is lost, my feelings tossed,
once more I'm in a whirl.
For age presents no real defence;
at heart I'm just a girl.

But if I choose once more to lose
myself in this affair
I'll make sure he waits round for me.
It's time he had his share!


© Nov 2005


Not Tonight!

The man is a wanker, a bounder, a sham.
Now why would I bother with him?
He's manipulative and he don't give a damn,
be it vital or just on a whim.

He's no understanding of others at all;
he never considered my plight.
Just as long as I pleased him and he had a ball
he assumed everything was all right!

He's a liar, a cheat, an insensitive prick;
a faint-hearted, craven poltroon.
He's got all the subtlety found in a brick!
And he thinks I'll be seeing him soon?

I've got news for him: he had best think again;
I've had all of that I can take.
The best way to treat inconsiderate men
is throw them all into a lake.

© 2006


Old Flames

An old flame flickered once again,
a flame I'd thought was dead.
It flared up briefly in the night:
Look, I'm still here, it said.

I watched and waited then to see
if it would reappear
but all around was cold and dark
and desolate and drear. 

There's closure in a funeral pyre:
all hope is gone for good.
Old flames are better left to die
completely, as they should.

© 2006

1 comment:

  1. such emotion in each and every poem, truly written from the heart.

    ReplyDelete