A Power Within

Category: Love poems Page 2 of 6

I Missed You.

“Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through, to guess about what is seen during a moment” Carl Sandburg

I Missed You.

I missed you, when the heated rhythm of Salsa
that feels so like chillies when they touch your tongue
drifted across the dance floor.
 
I missed you as this enticing music reached  my jewelled pinned ears.
Where were you? when the luscious sounds of Sax blues caught my needy toes
so carefully encased in high dancing shoes.
 
Where were those slim ‘sun touched’ hands that would  reach to twirl me to the dance floor.
Where was the graceful dancer whose gentle persuasion  could spin me like a whirlpool,
making me turn  and sway to the sounds of Latin beats and bluesy tones.
 
Tell me, where were those magical eyes those sparkling rays of light,  that always laughed with me.
Where was that smile, those breathy movements on the dance floor,
those feet that could glide and coax  the dancer from my soul.
 
How my heart wants to dance with you once more, instead of standing alone when the music calls to me.
I watched the others spin and whirl but my arms were empty, sadness for your charms that made me feel like sixteen again.
I was never a wallflower but she has found me now.
 
Where were you… when the deliciously heated sound of Salsa reached my ears… where were you?

 

@ Copyright 2009 Susie Hemingway.

 

In Christmas Lights.

 
 
Sharp and crisp as snowy nights
crystal clear in prism lights,
gentle orbs that sparkle bright
shining are your eyes tonight.
 
Reflected jewels of liquid amber
like dripping rich fondant creams,
chocolate in the deepest hue,
I bow my head to look at you.
 
Eyes that hold this strangeness well
in candlelight they watch and drink,
forgotten words much time to think.
A bitter pill that’s hard for you,
as fairy lights come into view.
 
White and gold’s, red and greens,
you simply watch in reverent scene,
reflections in those honest eyes
of baubles and of Christmas time.
 
In Christmas lights my poems for you
expressed in love, a poignant view….
 
 
Photo courtesy of Joey Moursi.

“Rippling Shadows”

 
I found your words resting on a page
written in that slim stylish hand,
the book, a gift I think?
Not significant to utter or to make worthy of print
I studied them closely…
I loved you as the sun glints its rippling
shadows as they spill across my bedroom wall and
your book.
 
I loved that you thought to write your daily notes
for me to read again during these Summer days.
I wanted to talk to you,
pulling at the grass of your resting place did not
satisfy… tidying the petals away did not sate my need.
Did not gratify…
 
Endless is this dark road between us
I long to hear your voice!
Still as the sun glints these rippling shadows as they spill across my
bedroom wall – I drink comfort from your written words…
 
Do you know it’s Summer? Do you know it’s Summer…
 
 
 
Copyright @  2013
 
 

“The Fight Without Choice”

Feeling sad and cross today at the passing of yet another good Man to the dreadful disease of Multiple Myeloma. My heart goes out to dear Karen at the loss her beloved Hugh suddenly at the weekend. I have posted below a poem written in 2009 which sums up my feelings today. This poem was written at the height of my anger at such a hateful disease.
 
May Karen find the solace she so deserves during these sad days and in the coming months. Much is now being done to find a cure but we so need more research into this difficult and most awful disease that appears for some reason to be on the increase.
All blessings dear Karen and  rest in peace dear Hugh.
 
 
THE FIGHT WITHOUT CHOICE.
 
It was never a choice was it?
It sneaked in and through
along and around,
this nasty wicked beast that coursed
along the channels of our lives.
It tangled and tried to spoil,
bent, broke, quietened and flawed,
it tried to rob, steal if you may
inflict damage and take away.
It encumbered, hampered, distressed and sapped,
this dark encroacher that went too far.
Still it did not spoil or mar
Love twixt us two,
 
this fight… without choice…

 

“If I Could”

If I could let you go as a flower lets
its petals fall one by one when life is finished,
unfettered, unbinding, unattached,
what a release that would be.
If I could one by one let loose these ties between us
let them fall and float to safely keep,
and so to live again.
I would,
if I could.

If I could shed my yearnings like an Autumn tree
that loosens it grip on burnished leaves
what joy that would be!
To bury those petals and leaves alongside my love
as a healing token to keep safe, to store my love.
I would – if I could.

For love lies sleeping in my heart
like a beautiful flower or a strong tree
which will not die or season change
which will not release me,
but will endure for all time.
If I could let you go.
Surely I would – if I could… .

“And So It Goes”

Life continues as days creep into Spring
the darkness leads to lighter hours,
blizzard grey days turn away
and the ache in your heart weakens.
Did you hear the birds singing today?
Sweet melodious sounds of daffodil days,
the sky was a hyacinth blue of hope
as green shoots of a different life arrive.

The proud majestic swans walk the banks of the river Bain
stretching their long necks to reach towards the sun,
the river high, cross and angry with the world
as a face of courage captures strength,
my soul swoops and enters into my heart
as sadness flies away on the wings of time.
The Winter is over, the dark days are done.

Gentleness pursues my life now, kindness enhances it,
delight embraces it.
Solace appears at my door

And so it goes.
And so it goes…

This poem is dedicated to Karen Caraven Hannon and to Susan Patterson who both need your prayers at this time.

Calm Are The Seas – Revised for Hamada’s Two Year Anniversary.

Calm are the seas I travel now,
the sail is down,
how tranquil is the ocean.
I drift past the deserted islands
with their scattered palms and
fallen coconuts,
I lay on the deck, with bronzed
skin and a salty mouth.

Calm are my seas as
I remember you with love…

The soft magnolia smell of warm breezes
whispers through my hair,
all is blue, placid and serene,
You are here in my memory beloved.
Always as essential as the mainstay.

Calm are my seas now…

York

 
This richly enthralling feast of eyes,
this bewitching walled city that sings her surprise!
The Romans named her Ebotacum,
Their choice of powerful authority…
 
A river runs through, enthralling
and plenteous wide.
With plethora of boats passing by,
on river Ouse, perpetual joy.
Beneath array of grey stone bridges,
garrets far above, their seeing eyes – their wondrous views.
From studios and penthouse places, a fortune now!
Affords this scene of delicious gaiety…
Sweet music from the handsome man with shining dreadlocks and sandaled feet.
We sat together you and I, drinking good wine, there in the sun.
Yummy food, some flirtatious fun!
 
The festive lanes of  Shambles with assortment of old worlde shops.
In streets, their portico encrusted gargoyles peer from past, in strange odd corners.
The array of market stalls in garish colours.
All manner of life is here!
The crooner sings his catchy tunes, sweet memories from yesteryear,
that makes you wish to dance in city square.
This once 19th century railway hub, this bustle,
this fibre of good life, that brings the people here.
This template for joy.
 
This enticing city of York. 
This God given day….

All Is Love by Susie Hemingway.

For Those Who Need  A Love Poem Today

Love is a perfect note;
love is a certain smile or a gentle touch.
It is the dripping  juiciness of ripe mangos on a parched tongue
or the smoothness of rippling silk as it touches your skin
or perhaps the sweetest strawberry dipped in liquid chocolate?
 
Love could be the aroma of double espresso just before it reaches your lips,
 or is it the smoky woody smell of a newly lit fire?
 All is love.
 
 
But… Love is also the stormy greys of long worried nights
 love is restless broken sleep that drains energy from your soul,
 love is eyes heavy from sadness.
 But love is also the ashen face that looks at you when days are bad and you are brave.
 Love is you starting the fight once more as realisation arrives in your eyes.
 Love is also the beautiful eyes of family members whose tender glances record their own story.
 Love is the strong arms that support and guide your way.
 Love is the dearest child who stokes your hair with such beautiful gentle hands.
 Love is our private moments that make difficult days better,
 love is that look across the room that says it all.
 
Love is all these things…
And all these things are love, and you.

“Give Me Your Hand”

 
Give me your hand so I may
hold it tightly within mine
and walk with you.
Give me your gentle heart that I may care for it
when days fall apart, fail us
or allow us to succumb  to
the remotest corner of our minds.
Give me your love so I might take it
to a place you may never have thought to visit.
And then to weave it tightly in a silken cloth
that cannot easily come undone.

 

Place your trust in me to bring colour to your cheeks
and  joy to your days.
Give me your dreams that I may place them
in a small trinket box for safe-keeping,
so you may return once more and share them with me.
Give me your wisdom so I may learn from you.
Allow me a small place in your heart even though
I am unable to yearn for more…

 

Give me your hand so I may walk with you…

 

All Rights Reserved @ Susie Hemingway.

“An Image Painted”

 

As brush to palette, as hands to clay
I sketch and mould my words.
Nothing lustrous here
no bright and gaudy colours,
no smooth or shaped sculptures,
just simple truthful words to look beyond,
between the lines to find
the crumbs of comfort I try to pen.

 

Words that spill like broken pearls
scattered from saddened mind.
The same feelings as yours perhaps?

 

The words fall to paper
forming like inky dew
to glisten and shine…

 

I seldom find the phrases I need
to mend this heart of mine,
to weave this magic spell for you.

 

As brush to palette.
As hands to clay.
As words to…
 
 
All Rights Reserved @ Susie Hemingway.

Kiss Me.

 

Kiss me before you leave.
For there may never be another tomorrow.
Look at me clearly before you go,
                                                     for I may not see you again.
Hold me tightly for even fleetingly,
                                                    I need to dream of other days.

 

Let me  look at your reflection in the stream of life.
And allow me to hold your smile in my hands.
Then  I may remember your face,
                amongst the raw wounds that fill my mind.

 

We may not see the future together.
So maybe now is all we have.
Kiss me,
                       before you leave…

 

Copyright 2012.

For Everyone With A Partner.

Red Rose 2011

Let me be aware of the treasure you are.
Let me learn from you,
Love you,
Bless you before you depart.

 

Let me not pass you by in a quest of
some rare and perfect tomorrow.
Let me hold you while I may,
For it may not always be so.

 

One day I shall dig my nails into the earth
Or bury my face in the pillow.
Or raise my hands to the sky and want,
more than all the world your return.

 

 

Red Rose Photo from Susie Hemingway’s Collection.

Clear Day–by Susie Hemingway.

 

4200338077_6104134b96_b

 

It was a clear day
Crystal clear
Sparkling light in a cloudless sky
Lines were etched on your familiar face
You said nothing and neither did I
What could be said?
Dark branches stretching against a blue sky
I looked at the trees, bare now and cruel
Nothing will change, how foolish to think it could
It’s too late now…

 

I traced your face with my fingers
You smiled.
It was a crystal clear day…

 

All Rights Reserved.

Sometimes All It Takes.

December 2009 011

This week I received two very lovely comments regarding my poems, both in the same vein informing me how much folk enjoy them and how they helped them when grieving or in pain. Yes of course I receive daily comments, it would be unusual if you wrote a blog and never heard from anyone but sometimes the wording of these comments propel you forward to keep trying to perfect the one perfect verse. I am supremely pleased when anyone leaves a comment, just to imagine someone  taking time from their busy schedule to bother to email me saying how much they enjoyed my words, a phrase, or a particular poem delights me. Sometimes they may refer to my words having helped or brought healing tears at a point in the lives when sadness was choking or blocking their emotions. That upon reading the simple phrases written here, they say it was enough to know someone understood their own pain and could perhaps share it with them. Being sad or worried is a lonely road and often one you cannot continually share with your personal friends or family. Grief affects us all at some time in our lives and to different degrees  but I yearn to understand how some of us survive while others do not.

Unless you have been or are a Carer, it is often difficult to understand the daily stress of following harsh schedules and the responsibilities for another person’s life. So often this comes upon you suddenly and it is difficult to absorb all that appears before you. If you have no nursing experience you are confronted with serious decisions to help your partner to make regarding the right path to take with medical matters plus the emotional side too; often with no outlet for your own feelings, which hover near the surface daily. My choice was to write down my daily feelings and in my simple words I found a voice that started privately but ended up world-wide! I will try to continue with my ‘poems of love’ after reading these two rather special comments this week asking me to do so.  Blessings and thanks dear friends.

On another little subject that seems to be most difficult at this time of the year for the newly bereaved is the putting- up of Christmas decorations. Often these have great sentimental memories attached to them and are often collected together over the years if you have been together for a long time. I have talked of this recently with dear friends on-line and through social networks. Folk who are struggling even to get a few pieces out of boxes for the festive season. Me too I’m afraid. Really I feel it depends whether you have grandchildren visiting or not. Last year when very newly bereaved I made a huge effort to do all the ‘normal things’ especially for my Grandson and family. I found it most difficult but he had lost his beloved Grandpa only the month before and I wanted all to be as it was in previous years when he visited. As if it could possibly be but I am sure you understand. I wanted him to think nothing else had changed too much. My feelings if you live alone now, that perhaps changing things a little can help. It’s painful when so much is going on around you, Christmas displays and festive music in all the shops makes it difficult to function without sadness as it is. So instead of having your normal decorations, perhaps having a small arrangement of twinkling branches maybe flowers instead of the tradition tree if that is what you used to share with your special person. Change things a little. Perhaps a decorated photo of your loved one with gorgeous scented candles that can be lit when the mood feels right for you, would be better for your heart.

When Hamada was very ill he would love to look at the Christmas lights even more than before when he was busy, he would watch as I decorated the tree with little suggestions here and there.  The following poem written in 2008 tells about that and is shown below. Have a joyous Christmas my dear friends with all your good memories, as precious as the love you will always have for your special person.

 

In Christmas Lights.

 

Sharp and crisp as snowy nights
crystal clear in prism lights,
gentle orbs that sparkle bright
shining are your eyes tonight.
Reflected jewels of liquid amber
like dripping rich fondant creams,
chocolate in the deepest hue,
I bow my head to look at you
 
Eyes that hold this strangeness well
in candlelight they watch and drink
forgotten words, much time to think.
A bitter pill that’s hard for you,
as fairy lights come into view,
white and gold’s, red and greens,
you simply watch in reverent scene,
reflections in those honest eyes
of baubles and of Christmas time.

 

In Christmas lights my poems for you
expressed in love, a poignant view…

 

All Rights Reserved: 2008

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