#olp poems on Hello Poetry

onlylovepoetry Jul 2020

The best part of us was...in the Kitchen

awhile, a time ago, wrote:

“the oven's writing warmth,
still faint discernible,
giving off the aroma of heated ink,
upon a skin-smooth page..”

                         <>

my words returned by the commentator-in-chief:

“Tells me why the best part of my
time with her was spent in the kitchen.”^

lay fallow my emotive, a response due catalogued
but unfulfilled till today, oh hell it is a moody way,
partly cloudy day, raining in between sunny  brief teasing episodic.

perfect.

for the mixed mood, a melancholia of innocence with a dash of a salty, self-reflective hazing, choosing careful words when I write without clear direction, you want to rush outside, get set up, and then surrender-retreat inside to the comfort zone, the hearty, all-involving,  kitchen where the ink is always kept on warm on the glass topped oven, and the dripping-coffee-machine never shuts down, at-the-ready stale crackers in the cupboard, and all these writing utensils at the two-handy, when she comes in, and with a quick surveying, kicks me out, to make us accoladed good food, with these words:

“my darling only love poetry man, render unto me, this captaincy,
my fiefdom now, and herein are kept my ingredients and tools, whe my words are secreted.”  You mistake the warmth here as a necessary condition for thy composition, but not so, the warmth required travels in the hearth of the body, get thee to the nook, to the sunroom, or our bed where I catch you prepositioning conjunctions to join weeping verbs, adjective so riotous their beauteous is stolen by God i’m the fall, thoughts worthy of becoming verses and stanzas, the exclaim the wonders of thy perspective, thy goodly nature, thy odor of freshly stirred vocabulary, an alluring stew in a new ***, surrender this cooking place to me in order that you might chef a new creation, half mine, half yours, all ours.”

^pradip

#olp #best #part #kitchen #heated #skinsmooth

onlylovepoetry Jun 2020

dear god, you humble me into quietude

dear god, you humble me into quietude

she says it’s sunny and 75
nearing 3’o’clock, cooling,
let’s go for our usual constitutional,
for a lovely afternoon walk to Shell Beach

can’t can’t can’t walking now in
a bottomless pit, every handhold,
poems, newly commissioned, newborn,
broken off the wall, revealing a gleaming,
light of iron pyrite, really good fool’s gold,
cause only fools write good poetry, or even try

but tonight I’m gonna feed you bucatini bolognese
babe, you gotta walk, make some room for all the words
that will come tumbling free falling while I’m sleeping next,
you’re up prowling looking for rhymes, lines, unheard of before,
you’ll need energy to bite, write, and make loving poetry and then,
then, sleep late, my laddie-baddie, new ones on my nightstand,
for my perusal, my usual unusual man who gifts me them to
in quantities of ‘more galore,’ that I accept, adore...adore

so afterwards, I must say my morning prayer, as an atheist forgiven,
the one I commissioned, and you composed, for me:

Dear God: you humble me into quietude, with gratitude...

#olp #onlylovepoetry #humble #me #into #quietude #gratitude

onlylovepoetry Jun 2020

“To walk, talk, rhyme and theorize, to forget and memorize, always refreshing, knowing nothing lasts”

this lyric licks your face,
leaving you-salty-caramel
smiling, while listening to Janis, singing
”(You Don’t know What It Is Like) to Love Somebody”

no babe,
nothing lasts,
not you, not love,
not me,
no matter how hard you
rhyme, theorize,
forget and memorize,
life’s only constant is
constantly refreshing all,
endlessly remembering
and forgetting how to
hold on to a heart, to love...

sometime a breeze, usually a hurricane,
comes along, prying your hands
off what you got, or,
prying your eyes away
onto something new, cause
that’s just the way it is
with human foolishness,
you gotta
“to walk, talk,
rhyme and theorize,
forget and memorize,
always refreshing,
knowing that
nothing lasts”

until it maybe does...

———————————————————————————————

“To walk, talk, rhyme and theorize, to forget and memorize, always refreshing, knowing nothing lasts, except things that last forever, last never, poems and decisions needing completion, choices, reordering songs loved best, replete all sorrowed pains, uplifting prayers, hallelujah hymns, last rites....”^

—————————————————————-

^ https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3871185/late-afternoon-tween-twilight-but-before-the-dusk/

#olp #theorize #thyme #janis

onlylovepoetry Jun 2020

that fog horn blows (kinda love poem)

that fog horn blows,
worries my mind, lord knows, we don’t need,
more obstacles in this tired world, so the horn
trying, to be blowing fog away, without success

the sound’s remainder air-lingers like foam bubbles
ridden down to coffee cup bottom, resisting, protesting,
refusing to expire, useless/nonetheless, says no dying

sole boat outlined, bout mile out, must be anchored, it’s
unmoved by fog danger or noise, fishing is my informed
best guess, but fish ain’t stoopid, swimming another way

the fog horn wakes the woman who looks askance
cause there is neither coffee or a newly christened
poem upon her nightstand, an explanation is sought

“stand by me,” I sing, “be unafraid my darling, stand now,
stand by me,” poet said “been guarding our bed, this long
foggy night, agin interlopers, bad dreams and sea troubles”

shied ‘em away, knowing that when a man loves a woman,
she can lean on him, cause he’s load bearing, her safety is
always first, poem second, coffee coming, with sun rising

she bemused, funny you’re, kooky like the poems you’ve up-
written all night, up all life long, all stored up in my nightstand,
you’re sweet, like Tennessee whiskey, ignore my scowling my own
poet-mr. coffeeman-sea guardian, you’re alright with me

#olp #fog #horn #alright #mr #coffeemansea #guardian #onlylovepoetry

onlylovepoetry Jun 2020

The Age of No Good Reason

despair ****** up all air, its currency is TV gold,
spent on rerunning human misdeeds, hate unmasked,
past infection point, reason is virally infected, what goes unspoken,
is we eat our young, they burn us on crucifixes, sins we committed
or not, we, living in the golden age of rage, no good reason crowned

basest instincts of intolerance is illness of all human supremacy,
it’s cheap and easy to hate, and its even cheapest to hate the
haters back, so the circle unending, wish I could sound less stupid
when my heart keeps ringing, can’t we all get along? Please. Idiot.

naive! guilty. toleration of nothing will suffocate all voices,
what good is this poetry gig, if we can’t drive out all hate,
no salvation, no hope, buried my writing utensils, cause
nobody’s listening ‘cept to the sound of their own righteousness

no need for only love poetry, when hating somebody is just (ha!)
so pleasurable, let’s hate everyone, for no good reason...

#olp #age #no #goor #reason #onlylovepoetry

onlylovepoetry Sep 2017

a plain poem (the first time I came in you)

a plain poem (the first time I came in you)*

a plain poem, light and effervescent, a flim-flan tasting,
plein de absurde rimes, full of nonsensical rhymes,
a lattice of criss crossing pastry sugary lines, the ones,
cannot, struggle to deduce, induce, reduce
from my constipated vocabulary

oh well
~
the first time I came in you,
entered, bidden welcome,
suffused a bridge between
the party of the first part,
the party of the second part,
sugar lightness airy nonsense,
two spirits dancing the singular
pas de deux of their finite lives,
a performance unbeatable,
unrepeatable,
lost to the perfection annals

Shockingly, Surprisingly, Summarily,
did not compose an ode,
don't mine a new vein of ore,
even write a plain poe poem

as best can recall,
at the candle melting of the
sealing wax of the deal,
gave an honest speech,
instantly falling fast asleep
with nary a grunted word

ever since l,
cannot write of plain love plainly,
so she makes me pay with a
new living elegant elegy daily,
a quatrain, what a pain,
this iambic panting meter
love poem writing

jeez louise,
how I wish could write of
roses red and violets blue,
get back to sleep,
oh well then,
back to work

got to make those sad moans,
hers, go away,
so please excuse me

near ten years later,
still paying the dues of the
initializing error of my way

she rumbles-mumbles in her
pre-awakening dream state,
so please excuse, got to go, think up
some implicated complicated
verses to soothe away
her simple poorly hidden anxieties

you see,
I am happy paying
on and on,
writing like the devil furious,
she is stirring, coffee soon,
cafe au lait
if you get my meaning,
but still cannot beat,
repeat, re-alive
that simple plain living poem notated,
when first I came in her*

<•;)

9/24/17 6:49am ~7:17am

#olp #onlylovepoetry #plain #poem #came

onlylovepoetry Jul 2016

a place with no view: the glum apprehension of tomorrow's tiding

<>

"having found a white coal seam amidst the black bunting
that decorates their glum apprehension of tomorrow's tidings"^

the computer tablet recognizes as I essay,
                                                                                  the "tomorrow" word
as possessing a reality, with time sensitivity,
please,  somebody help us, almost

an inevitability

the possibility of a realizable event,
                           as if the poem composing was
the future's assuming a 99% probability,           right ready for scheduling

offering me two choices:
create event or view calendar?

as if the next shooting, bombing,
and my glum apprehension thereof,
as if ''tomorrow's" tidings were mine own doing
of my undoing,
somehow my fears create or anticipation of
the "next one" makes me a guilty part

my heart cracking with despairing moans
knowing that this is foolishness

but
              not to me

for as we think upon it, that tiny extra precaution,
'tis already the small death of me
each death a cut in the same spot,
and the pestering wound ground deeper, bone closer

find myself
jailed in a place with no view, insecure and unprotected

no view, no window to crack, no window no view
no to letting  in fresh air, hope or something good,
and yes to no,
I know about this and that and words
intended to offer up optimism,
albeit on a small scale

I am careful not to mock
the words and those who offer up

but seriously,
don't

I came to,
I came to this place to write
only love poetry silly love songs
and some black angel sideswiped me in the left lane
writing now in stead of ways I'm dented and unforgiving
feeling stoopidly foolish            even as
I try and I try to find the seed germane to the connectivity between the horror hallmarks of these times and the ******* window is just stuck stuck stuck

I'll think I'll change my name,
honestly,
only love poetry? cries out ridiculous

this is no poem, more a teacher's note of surrender,
                                                      come back with a new identity or just a new field of endeavor

so I put that on my calendar for tomorrow
and it appears right away, right after:

6:00 am Check on Glum Apprehensions
and it appears that I'm too late

confirming I've missed my appointment so too late for my kind of tomfoolery.             and that white seam, glimpsed but not grasped, illusion noxious,, I can't seem to locate it anymore

^ from
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1716159/love-confusion-in-munich-this-poet-this-jew-this-could-be-shylock/

1:36AM 7/26/16

#olp #onlylovepoetry #glum #apprehension

onlylovepoetry Dec 2019

An Optimist’s Guide to Falling in Love With a Woman

An Optimist’s Guide to Falling in Love With a Woman

have a very minor fender ******, you’ll never get a persons digits any easier, consider it a bonus first date, a stress test interview, when humans on their worst/best behavior, their true nature revealed and tough exteriors melt when gallantly take full responsibility, details to be discussed over dinner

risks: she’ll will never ever let you drive her, even after, no...never ever after, the issue is closed, ‘twas your fault and is non-discussable

critique her order standing behind her at McDonald’s. blowback assured! charm resistance and openness will be tested, but you claim pure concern for her well being, even after offering to pay a dollar for every calorie ingested if she only switches to a plant-based burger

risks: hamburger grease soul staining, no love stain stick remover handy and everybody knows mixed marriages really never work tween bronco busting cowgirls and city tree huggers

you take a spill, nose in the phone crossing street, she lifts you up with wonder woman strength and gentility, you sputter with half-feigned indignation for you’ve embarrassedly first sight-fallen in love, all your words and everything else is failing and flailing as she tends to the cut, drives you to her office where she stitches you up, while cracking jokes that are truly funny

risks: she is a Dallas Cowboy fan, or worse, someone else got there first, and you need life long therapy

she’s in seat 10C, Miami to NYC, pretending very poorly to not be reading this very story-poem you’re creating, but doing so VERY poorly because she is editing, making suggestions, punching you in the arm excitedly, asking if you want to share a cab home, for she reveals that she too, secretly dips the quill in ink and needs an expert opinion, yours for sure since you’re SO good looking too!

risks: the weather diverts the plane to Baltimore where you live together happily after-ever, cause you’re both tired of life in cities with 3-13 perennial losing NFL teams and it is exquisitely equidistant from your annoying relatives
and ex’s

Baltimore Washington International Airport
4:29 pm Dec. 2nd

#optimists #guide #olp #onlylovepoetry

onlylovepoetry Mar 2018

‘and’ how to make onlylovepoetry

cold turkey time
hid the remote in the linen closet

playing
alicia keys ‘fallin’ on repeat and
    she ain’t got no chance

keep on fallin’ and she can’t say anything
except répétez après moi s.v.p.

and repeat we do
baby I’m crazy
in the bed is paper and pen
when inspiration says breather time

two tongues tonguing intertwine like two two headed snakes,
spilling ink and sweaty ***** and the paper is filling up fast

sleep begging and oil offshore exploration calming explosions
love her *****  poetry

and
how she deletes every  “and” in every poem we ever writ
saying
“and if, you need an ‘and, ‘
the verse is weakly unclear”

we write in perfect clarity

cannot recall where the **** remote is hid

when she complains

i lover-whisper in each ear her,
turning her body over and over again,
in case I miss an ear,

"and and and and"

retaliation,
she sticks me with pen
"taps" the top of my head
with that yellow blue lined lady pad

saying repeat after me if you please en francais

"and and and onlylovepoetry"

sunday @ 5:13am sunday 'Sunday kind of love'

#olp #onlylovepoetry

onlylovepoetry May 2020

a lump in my bed

<>

a lump in my bed
————————

sheet covered, toe to head, alive or ?
call it lumpen woman, though shapely,
the thick coverlet says yay, let’s suppress!
what lies sheet-deep, let everyone wanna guess?

two arms snakily shoot/emerge, straight out,
from besides ears, to aerate treasured tresses,
blonde mane, lioness locks, somehow sun colored, of the
rest, a-guessing kept, I man of reason, am’nt a speculator

reasoning that when the world was 1st created,
there was a holy hole in my side, missing a ribbing,
leaving me needy for a plugging, a poultice covering,
a bandage stitched, so my breathing unimpaired

thus this how and why the lumpen woman is come
into bed and body, to patch and complete, warm and
stoke me, wake up us to freshly chilled spring atmospheres,
and other supposed reasons to compose only love poetry

Fri May 22
early morn bedecked bed
isle of sheltering

#olp #lump #bed