An Americanized Haiku cycle
I was clearing snow off of people’s vehicles at work the other day before leaving, and I was reminded of an event and conversation from a few years ago. This served as a partial inspiration for this poem. One Sunday in March that year, I was clearing snow off of people’s vehicles after church (the congregation consisted of single students). There was one vehicle in particular that I wanted to clear the snow from, as an act of service to utilize that third language of love. A friend was helping me, and I made sure I cleared the snow from the car I wanted to. We did several other cars, and eventually a female friend leaving from choir practice "caught" us as we were near her car. Later, our ward congregation gathered for prayer in the evening. This female friend brought up the snow clearing. In response to whatever she had said, I mentioned that indeed, there was one car in particular I wanted to get. My friend asked, "So did you get the car you wanted to get?" I said I had. Another young woman had come near around then, heard that last bit, and asked, "So what kind of car did you get?" It still makes me laugh.
Doctor John Lund speaks
Of three languages of love.
Not Latin nor Greek;
Communication
Of feelings of affection,
Of adoration,
Is what classifies
These universally known
Tongues of human kind.
The first, as a dove,
From our mouths come dulcet tones
Showing forth heart, mind;
To loved ones they fly.
A kiss, a hug, holding hands
In Venn Diagram
Circle of second,
Dear to the heart they beckon
As time slips away.
Oh be not dismayed,
I’ll tell you language third;
‘Tis where love is shown
By deed, being served.
In all these my heart has grown,
And each I have sown.
Sometimes by custom
Or by laws of God or man
Language may be banned.
These words, please trust ’em,
When speaking love is taboo;
Ca, c’est défendu,
Skin—largest organ—
To caress, tickle, or kiss.
Use laws De Morgan:
Not second or first
Leaves for use only the third—
In service find bliss,
Though craving for word
And spark and fire you may miss
(Not alone in this),
From one heart they come.
Ability to feel not numbed
By unspoken tongues;
Heart with song now hums
E’en though sleep be required,
By thee inspired.
Copyright © 2014 H.K. Longmore
