Going Through Life

somewhere i have never travelled

(by e. e. cummings)

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

It is as silly as love

It is as silly as love
that I should be hurt
by seeing a picture of you but
with your back turned

as if

Fatal as time love
will not stay the same
and many times a love-that-has-grown
will appear diminished;

as if

as gentle as that breeze
I’d swear there’s a window-open-somewhere -
pregnant like a hope delayed
the answer is held until I ask fewer questions -

if I turned around now I think
I would be surprised not to see the past.

I never knew space could hurt

I never knew space could hurt
until I found even touching
there was too much distance from me to you-

And time walks across my heart,
coming and going with that
precise patience it keeps all for itself-

Under the naïf look of a smile
Love-Gently-Bleeds
from the wounds of this soul pierced by your otherness-

To dissolve in living red the mere
pleasing of the senses
that ever-urgently warned me of your beauty
(which they never knew)

and drench away in thick flowing substance
that simple wishing you well
which safely keeps you for contemplation

Love bleeds from pains easily forgotten
as I give myself to you

There goes another piece of me but

There goes another piece of me but
go merrily, piece, you were spent

on love

so I guess it’s ok as long as - well
ok, go on,

take some more

Soft but devastating blows

Soft but devastating blows
on my lack of generosity
struck constantly with precision
from the stubborn excess of your love,
the inclement unsatisfaction of your giving,
the ever-expanding tightness of your embrace;

And though from one so delicate,
so pure in the ways of the heart,
I would expect some more polite
and respecting loving,
you teach me this new form of jealousy
rendered unselfish by mere conviction,

and with the calculated determination
of a noble breaking of a rule,
you pay me the highest compliment
of proving my love incomplete,
my response stammered, my declaration timid,
my giving-more a simple prelude of a new request.

Again

Again
Beauty will set before me for
contemplation
every small, futile, fugitive
spark and reflection of itself;

Repeatedly
after every fly has buzzed around my heart
and caught my attention and was waved away
without conviction,
(leaving a pain only just felt)

Stubbornly
as a pretendent Beauty will have me choose her
from all those sparks and
above every sleepish humming;
(shaping my heart to her image)

In passive astonishment I contemplate

In passive astonishment I contemplate
some part of you that lies in the past
like a strange colour seen once and never again;

And every once in a while it will seem to show,
but only to find the present you so overwhelming,
so totally absorbed my mind in your life;

From a glimpse of truth I set myself to
not mind this forced giving away of your past
which unmistakably states you are alive in me.

“Coming!” I would have said promptly,

“Coming!” I would have said
promptly, had I not
been called so long ago, years away in a precise day

Had I not
wandered off or
rather strayed without leaving the house;

Many times, many times or
rather
once I denied.

But always
years ahead and every day
with smiles from blows and thanks for tears:
I have with stable voice
and clear pronouncing lips
in simple words of unknown strength

“Yes!” I said promptly
ever asserting more than I gathered was being asked –

“Let it be” I said and
it was not my voice.

I leaned forward to kiss your lips

I leaned forward to kiss your lips,
but you surprisingly hastened to kiss mine
and as we both stood staring seriously
into each others eyes

I considered that gesture as a challenge;
You always loved me like that:
never allowing me to question your love,
always waiting on my move
only to move before me

"I could love you even more", I thought
(and I had no idea what you were thinking)

Strange when I complete

Strange when I complete
pledge forever entrust
myself totally placing
me, my life and body and
wholly on your hands and seal it with a kiss

The surprise that you
will take me bit by bit
yesterday and now and now you
will ask me again, confirm my love
and every once in a while not be there to be kissed)

Without ever denying my pledge or
dropping me from your hand you will
see to it that every other is displayed to me and within reach

: you will lovingly ask bits of love from me
today and now and now

From somewhere between the will and the heart

From somewhere between the will and the heart
comes softly and with majesty the precise determination
to love you today with the faithfulness of one
who has been for fifty years faithful;
(though the years haven’t been half as many)

And halfway into not thinking I will find
the rush to gather all the love of a lifetime
and press it together into these times we have shared
until the future seems unnecessary;
(though tenderly expected like a gift)

But from which patience gladly forgotten
will I nourish the strength to once again
spread the love in me over the years
and give up the urge of stealing it all into this instant?
(for only tomorrow will I be able to give you my tomorrow)

it may not always be so; and i say

(by e.e.cummings)

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be, i say if this should be—
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands

stamp your feet on the way

stamp your feet on the way
but gather all your debt today
then

kiss with lips of sin
- fear not: for many kisses will
wipe


the sin from the lips tears
wash

the feet of the way.

When I speak to you

(by Fernando Pessoa)

When I speak to you, it hurts you should reply
to what I say, not to my love.