Tag Archives: desire

Apropos

He’s late so passes by with a nod.
She’s a step or two behind,
But he’s really got to go.

She’s on the phone;
Teaching from his youth
To not interrupt
Does battle with desire to talk
And wins the row.

He’ll try another jow.
Besides, “Happy Ash Wednesday”
Isn’t quite apropos.

©2015 H.K. Longmore

Seven Year Pursuit

She sees him below,
The one she desires.
She finds he inspires
As her heart closer grows.

He doesn’t know
It has taken a year—
But it is now clear,
She desires to be friend, not foe.

Year by year she closer comes,
In seven, she perceives,
Her goal she’ll achieve.
With delight she softly hums.

Six have passed,
She draws nigh,
And lets out a sigh;
Leans in to be kissed.

Excited for gifts next year will bestow—
She’ll have him aye, by and by.
In anticipation she finds the right tie;
She’ll decorate herself with matching bow.

But the cycle is done,
Her goal upheaved.
‘Twas quite naive;
Still, her heart is numb:

To Aphrodite Cupid will confide
That Valentine’s will have to abide:
The day for George and Abe set aside
Will never with her coincide.

©2015 H.K. Longmore

My Captor

There’s a song playing so softly
It must be coming from far away.
But it’s coming closer, getting louder.
I can neither draw nearer nor flee.

I am a captive; I am not free.
There is no iron filled with gun powder,
Nor chain about my neck that makes me stay.
The song continues, on the air wafting.

Louder, nearer, then stopping; a new song
Plays, and with increase is the volume changed.
Out of fear I want to escape;
Fear the approaching song will tear me from my dreams.

So loud, so close I want to scream.
I push off the cloth with which I am draped.
I face the captor who has me chained,
And break free to prove I am strong.

I leave my captor behind,
Covered in fluffy cotton and goose down.

©2015 H.K. Longmore

Give people high fives just for getting out of bed. Being a person is hard sometimes.

Shroud

The mountain calls out,
Beckons me to come hither,
See through snowy veil.

Snowy veil reveals:
Scrub oak, aspen, evergreen;
Hides boulders and streams.

In valley below
Fire blazes in the night,
Turning shroud ash black.

© 2014 H.K. Longmore

The Cupboard in the Corner of My Atrium

My Atrium is no ordinary shop:
No wares are peddled,
We don’t do consignment,
There’s no cash behind the counter.

Here behind the fence
Of my serous pericardium,
You’ll find, if you request,
Emotions—free of charge.

But if you want an emotion
From my Atrium,
You’ll have to step up;
Step up to the counter and ask.

But if you want jealousy,
We’re fresh out.
Well, that’s not right:
We no longer stock it.

Jealousy is messy,
It gets in the cracks,
Turns the grout green,
Stains white things black.

Jealousy does not produce
Manliness nor masculinity;
Those are both best
Grown internally.

So when we find
A trace of jealousy
On the floor
Or oozing down the stairs

We fetch the mop
From the cupboard
In the corner
Of my Atrium.

So, what will you have?
What will it be?
You’ll have to step up to the counter
And make it known.

If you’d rather get your fill
From some other,
That’s your choice.
There are other customers at my till.

But the portrait I painted
While you stood outside
Window shopping
Is etched into the wall.

And there it will remain—
Whether you give your wants a name,
Or never come to my counter again—
In the middle of my Atrium.

Now, where’s that mop?

©2014 H.K. Longmore

The Stronger Flame

Desire’s flames hold
Intense power over flesh,
Knees especially.

The silent treatment
Is yet stronger than those flames:
Flame extinguisher.

From glowing embers
Build a stronger flame: combine
Value and desire.

© 2014 H.K. Longmore