Month: Aug 2011

Love’s Own Blaze [sonnet]

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I will not be ashamed to own my love
to shout it from the rooftops with all joy —
to cry out from the mountaintops above —
the highest herald themes will I deploy.

For I have played the secret games of queens
who swept me under carpets, behind doors;
who scrubbed me from their world by any means —
who made sure that I stayed within their drawers.

But hiding under skirts is not for men
nor knights who sing their ladye’s name with praise.
To be the cloistered closet jewel again
betrays the very heart of love’s own blaze.

I cannot be a secret of my maid
for love must by its nature be displayed.

© 2011, Alan Morrison

My Ladye of the Winde [sonnet]

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Surprising simple sounds of breaking air
made waves across the room with curtains drawn.
You languished on the bed and in the chair
and said such weakness made you feel forlorn.

“Forgive me” were the words which struck my ears
as I with other features grappled hard.
A scent with all my senses interfered;
you threw into my way your calling card.

But yet I will not by such stuff be thrown
nor will I acquiesce to sweet redress.
So often strong retorts are overblown
despite the lack of feminine finesse.

No matter how much breeze you blow my way
my love will never fade to yesterday.

© 2011, Alan Morrison

We Hold the Keys [sonnet]

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Once you said I hold the key to your soul
that only I your treasures can unlock —
can know your lovely youness as a whole
(your beauty like a lighthouse on a rock).

Such trust and high responsibility
will never be a lightly-treated gift;
but always seen with sensitivity
in honour of the glory of our kiss.

That power you gave me works the other way;
you hold also the key to unlock me.
I know in all our sacred interplay
you’d never do me harm or injury.

Because we gently hold each other’s key
then love in freedom’s reign we guarantee.

© 2011, Alan Morrison

Anaesthesia [sonnet]

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When crazed and wanton anaesthesia
coldbloodedly applied through my own hand
gripped me with surrealistic seizure
against all suitors I could coolly stand.

So there I stood without a winter coat
convinced my stoic heart would never melt.
I didn’t know there was an antidote
in human form releasing all I felt.

But then your shimmer woke me with a start
(before I’d wandered lonely as a shroud)
and now my eyes have sparkling beauty marks
in place of threatening thunder-laden clouds.

If you had found me countless years ago
a lifetime’s worth of ice could freely flow.

© 2011, Alan Morrison

I Clothe me in your Beauty [poem]

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I clothe me in your beauty
a woven cloak of ochre made
blood-red inside and brown like earth
whose complex colours never fade

I bathe me in your blitheness
while showers of shifting senseness
wash my wilted soul with widening
waves of laced and lavish gladness

Continue reading…

When… [sonnet]

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When you said “I will not write long letters
for that is how I deal with missing you
(longing for your molten touch to melt us)”,
I felt my blood dissolve in cobalt blue.

When you said “I will never say goodbye
for that is how I cope with when we part
(as all I’d do is crumple down and cry)”,
a tremble quavered in my aching heart.

Although I know that distance cannot change
a single seething atom of our blaze
(no spark between us can be rearranged),
I in your absence will be disarrayed.

For if I am without your words and face
which part of you will I with fire embrace?

© 2011, Alan Morrison

The Sign on my Door [sonnet]

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When all the earth moves under Cupid’s bow
convulsively creating waves which chime
with cataclysmic cadences of flow
(in spite of visions loomingly sublime) —

When riotous eruptions shake the core
of every quaking atom’s dance of love
and aftershocks resound against my door
(the threshold to the threatening skies above) —

Then I (who swore to halt all hurricanes
and keep all raging fires in control)
in my unyielding tower can remain
or let the deluge thunder through my soul.

The tremors round my being do reverb;
the sign hung on my door says “Please Disturb!”

© 2011, Alan Morrison

Hara Kiri Every Time [song lyric]

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I have been here before…
Feeling I’m on a mountaintop and riding high
Though all my instincts tell me that it’s all a lie
This is the one I dreamed about my whole life through (yeah)
Thought I could breathe at last although it’s all untrue
Clinging to straws and roses made it seem so fine
Yet I committed Hara Kiri every time.

I thought I’d seen the light…
Flashing and swirling round me like a storm at sea
Warning me not to go there ’cause of where I’d be
Showing me how I’d fall into the poisoned tide
Tearing myself to pieces with that knife inside
But I was like an insect round a candleshine
And I committed Hara Kiri every time.

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My Semantic Sea [poem]

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I always have the feeling
that I say too much.
In my oral fever
I am constantly ready
with words that gush.
Bubbles come out
from my lips with ease;
I leave not one stone
unturned (unseized).
For words are to me
like a fecund flow
of turquoise-coloured
streams searching hard
for a place in a harbour
to anchor my wildest dreams.

Continue reading…

The Cold Water Brigade [sonnet]

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Some people see it as a vital job
to put out fires which burn in people’s chests.
They use their winding water hose to rob
you of your ardour felt. They are obsessed.

They spread their darkness using many ways —
(beware they love to make you doubt your dreams)
do anything to try to quench the blaze.
There is no end to all their deadly schemes.

How vigilant do lovers have to be
to spot this army coming from behind!
Equipped with gossip, venom, jealousy,
their aim: That all your flames be undermined.

I’ve seen it all before; it’s déjà vu;
I thwart their every strategy. Will you?

© 2011, Alan Morrison