l-g-v - Hello Poetry

I saved for you alone an old box full the treasures of my youth, the laughter and the woes the values and the truth and the memories I saved them all for you including those first kisses, our explorations, the times we swam together at the Sea of Innocence where I saw you float away, away from me and your surprise To find it again, perhaps it would feel less like being the one left adrift

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May 10, 2014

May 10, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC

l-g-v

A surprise

I saved for you alone an old box full the treasures of my youth, the laughter and the woes the values and the truth and the memories I saved them all for you including those first kisses, our explorations, the times we swam together at the Sea of Innocence where I saw you float away, away from me and your surprise To find it again, perhaps it would feel less like being the one left adrift

20

I saw you twelve years ago ~ blond hair on a sunny afternoon attending a class reunion closer to forty yet I could not remember you, not like that Earlier, I remember you ~ dark hair on a sunny afternoon in the middle of French lessons you were close to seventeen this, I can remember so clearly That you were sweet and smart ~ playful, generous and right flashing your smile you did reach out and I kept the letters our conversations, how they found me interesting, pair of scrutinizing eyes after all these years I could remember Farewell then, dear friend ~ Will treasure the fond memories thank you for your friendship the inspiration the good example if ghosts are but memories Will you please come haunt me now and then, from time to time, again after all these years? You were braver then ~ So may your lamp rekindle brighter now beyond the wall mysterious And I hope to see you once again someday, somewhere somehow.

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May 7, 2014

May 7, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC

l-g-v

To an old friend gone today

I saw you twelve years ago ~ blond hair on a sunny afternoon attending a class reunion closer to forty yet I could not remember you, not like that Earlier, I remember you ~ dark hair on a sunny afternoon in the middle of French lessons you were close to seventeen this, I can remember so clearly That you were sweet and smart ~ playful, generous and right flashing your smile you did reach out and I kept the letters our conversations, how they found me interesting, pair of scrutinizing eyes after all these years I could remember Farewell then, dear friend ~ Will treasure the fond memories thank you for your friendship the inspiration the good example if ghosts are but memories Will you please come haunt me now and then, from time to time, again after all these years? You were braver then ~ So may your lamp rekindle brighter now beyond the wall mysterious And I hope to see you once again someday, somewhere somehow.

40

Moon wanes its silent smile a long journey every fortnight odd reflection plays the old familiar game oblivious to the howls, to the sighs unable to let go.

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Dec 27, 2013

Dec 27, 2013 at 9:43 AM UTC

l-g-v

ephemeral

Moon wanes its silent smile a long journey every fortnight odd reflection plays the old familiar game oblivious to the howls, to the sighs unable to let go.

11

Small defeats here and there causing good to go away and your smile Now I keep hearing your thoughts from the other room more apologies only making me less in your eyes, with no lies Am I going away Do I surround you now my soul lost in the flickers of candlelight with you trying to forget me for a second yet I am never away Ages later you have forgotten sweetly forgiven me All is restored and warm again God Bless you, Always Never away

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Nov 8, 2013

Nov 8, 2013 at 9:51 AM UTC

l-g-v

Never away

Small defeats here and there causing good to go away and your smile Now I keep hearing your thoughts from the other room more apologies only making me less in your eyes, with no lies Am I going away Do I surround you now my soul lost in the flickers of candlelight with you trying to forget me for a second yet I am never away Ages later you have forgotten sweetly forgiven me All is restored and warm again God Bless you, Always Never away

29

And thus we bid you welcome to our home, Finzi-Continis of the new Century. Oh, we play jeu de paume all day behind our walled gardens Deuce! Love! Set! you can hear the birds, the lawnmowers humming diligently in the yards the automobiles Sense a world out there so vulnerable Those we think we care not about or would prefer not to know about ever, really. Best leave us alone, spending our sated evenings arguing politics in candlelight intense debates, places unseen "Not much else there could have been done, was there?" Come back, carefree! Happy-go-lucky Deuce! Love! For every once in a while, I wake up, for a moment back in the Garden, not alone "A soap bubble!" "There! ~ another!" Amid childish laughter we watch them float away, their colors winking back. And we play merrily, a blanket of sunshine ~ '...and there's another!'

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May 5, 2013

May 5, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC

l-g-v

A Safe world

And thus we bid you welcome to our home, Finzi-Continis of the new Century. Oh, we play jeu de paume all day behind our walled gardens Deuce! Love! Set! you can hear the birds, the lawnmowers humming diligently in the yards the automobiles Sense a world out there so vulnerable Those we think we care not about or would prefer not to know about ever, really. Best leave us alone, spending our sated evenings arguing politics in candlelight intense debates, places unseen "Not much else there could have been done, was there?" Come back, carefree! Happy-go-lucky Deuce! Love! For every once in a while, I wake up, for a moment back in the Garden, not alone "A soap bubble!" "There! ~ another!" Amid childish laughter we watch them float away, their colors winking back. And we play merrily, a blanket of sunshine ~ '...and there's another!'

42

You know how you must feel to write this Begone Melancholy, Nostalgia, Chagrin! The sun is smiling We are thankful Life acquiesces with many more graces Finally ~ just right. Spring is the sound of the singing birds to the summer of endless loving Au revoir to the fogs that cloud the hearts, Farewell to the mists where souls are lost Come and stay here, sun! Come to stay!

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Apr 21, 2013

Apr 21, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC

l-g-v

State of Happiness

You know how you must feel to write this Begone Melancholy, Nostalgia, Chagrin! The sun is smiling We are thankful Life acquiesces with many more graces Finally ~ just right. Spring is the sound of the singing birds to the summer of endless loving Au revoir to the fogs that cloud the hearts, Farewell to the mists where souls are lost Come and stay here, sun! Come to stay!

13

Beaumaris, carnival of soft pastel tones of damp evenings of tramway cars with small orange lights distracted bystanders the empty bridges the silent horizons pale lace on a parasol, light sepia dreams of a particular Monet, forgotten, unseen before the rains came. Many years later, I found her so tenuous, so subtle in what little was left yet there it was, her soul all new shades of melancholy. Now I just swim, every now and then in that blue ocean of her blueness, the Sea of Oblivion. In the glimpse of bright reflections of sunshine on the water, of salted afternoons in a country where it no longer rains

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Mar 10, 2013

Mar 10, 2013 at 1:10 AM UTC

l-g-v

Never met Clarice

Beaumaris, carnival of soft pastel tones of damp evenings of tramway cars with small orange lights distracted bystanders the empty bridges the silent horizons pale lace on a parasol, light sepia dreams of a particular Monet, forgotten, unseen before the rains came. Many years later, I found her so tenuous, so subtle in what little was left yet there it was, her soul all new shades of melancholy. Now I just swim, every now and then in that blue ocean of her blueness, the Sea of Oblivion. In the glimpse of bright reflections of sunshine on the water, of salted afternoons in a country where it no longer rains

33

To love you so intensely Such a strange love demands no understanding To think of you and speak of you a state of mind fundamental for the living Glory to those who died seeking you a State of my own mind, our own mind Queen of ideals oh precious Freedom, Love for you so pure it heals the soul If I can dream and navigate the mighty river of Will in this breezy peace, I live Come and sing to me of the countless sacrifices for your sake supreme make us see how it was you came to be so beautiful, above the Sun and the Moon to the simple man who understands nothing yet accepts their kiss invisible on his rugged cheek, and with a deep breath draws inside a taste of the light Oh Freedom! ... Que de crimes on comet en ton nom

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Feb 22, 2013

Feb 22, 2013 at 3:48 PM UTC

l-g-v

Oh Freedom

To love you so intensely Such a strange love demands no understanding To think of you and speak of you a state of mind fundamental for the living Glory to those who died seeking you a State of my own mind, our own mind Queen of ideals oh precious Freedom, Love for you so pure it heals the soul If I can dream and navigate the mighty river of Will in this breezy peace, I live Come and sing to me of the countless sacrifices for your sake supreme make us see how it was you came to be so beautiful, above the Sun and the Moon to the simple man who understands nothing yet accepts their kiss invisible on his rugged cheek, and with a deep breath draws inside a taste of the light Oh Freedom! ... Que de crimes on comet en ton nom

43

Anglophilia An early passion one cannot say when or why perhaps his father's admiration or was it his mother's apprehension for them Leaves of sweet ruby tea hot ginger pasties glory of candle skinned ladies the warm eyes and cold hearts what lovely cats you have Avon flows, its quiet cenote waters surrounding the poetical urns Cheery children noses against windows those of shopkeepers that smothered Napoleon Yes, Avon flows the timely midnight trains to a myriad country stations all the many noble selfish ideals Joy of bright roses in a small garden below where the Keats still play Adam and Eve and hear the City's pride its mechanical soul sing its hollow lonely tune again Oh, where did all the angels go?

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Feb 21, 2013

Feb 21, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC

l-g-v

Saint George

Anglophilia An early passion one cannot say when or why perhaps his father's admiration or was it his mother's apprehension for them Leaves of sweet ruby tea hot ginger pasties glory of candle skinned ladies the warm eyes and cold hearts what lovely cats you have Avon flows, its quiet cenote waters surrounding the poetical urns Cheery children noses against windows those of shopkeepers that smothered Napoleon Yes, Avon flows the timely midnight trains to a myriad country stations all the many noble selfish ideals Joy of bright roses in a small garden below where the Keats still play Adam and Eve and hear the City's pride its mechanical soul sing its hollow lonely tune again Oh, where did all the angels go?

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