I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

4 April 2010

Partly Functional

We chug uphill
millimetre by millimetre
my foot flat to the boards
my irrelevant intention
intensely focused
and my mind
reiterating prayers.

That’s on short trips
or fresh starts.
We need warm-up,
lots of warm-up,
before the slipping automatic
kicks in with a sudden purr
and I relax (a little) in relief.

I stay of course on the flat
taking the long way round.
But always I have to come
to the home hill
at the very end of the trip.
This there is no avoiding.
The only way is up.

After a long journey
when she’s running nicely
I go down to Low, pause
a split second for that tricky turn
then flatten my foot, and whew!
she zooms up. Sometimes
I don’t even need the Power button.

April PAD Challenge 3
Prompt: write a poem with the title 'Partly (blank)', filling in the blank.


  1. dream of love for poetry month

    She is there, in my room, waiting. Silent as I close the door, turn out the light, turn out the world.
    I feel her presence behind, reaching to touch my clavicle, soothe vagal impulse to turn. I feel her hand, supple, strong, heating through in contact, healing in that sacred touch fortified with love.
    We kiss, we melt, we swirl like cotton candy, sweet, sticky, surreal. We touch into solidity to feel, each exquisite synapse response a remembrance of permeability. We taste. There are no words.

    I know I said (I prayed):

    To be adored beyond embarrassment
    To be she who can do no wrong, because beloved
    To be gifted accurate reflective critique
    as superlative reviews, with just a tweak suggested

    To fall securely into open arms and heart
    expecting only me
    Each blessed day to start
    gazing into shining eyes that see so deeply,
    so wisely, my precious wondrous being
    I have never had from lovers,
    brothers, Mom or Dad
    what I have taught myself severely
    I can never have
    Too bad. So sad. Can't let fantasy
    keep me from my daily dance with debt.
    Dreaming freely receivng
    never to be met.

    We meet secretly, in places that can't be mapped or tethered. She embraces me in bursts of rapid movement, seductively slowed from motion to subtle traces of desire.
    I am emotively charged ecstasy, pulsing electrically beyond space/time. She is imaginal fluid gently shaping eternity. We are ouroboros, ancient fantasy, modern physics.
    This is the charm I need to cast the spell, to open the fortress, to open my eyes adoring sensation. I become energy as she feeds me the ambrosia of her essence. I become beloved.


  2. Hmmm, I've been reading of problems with Blogger just now - posts turning up as comments, or appearing in the email boxes of people who aren't subscribed.

    Thank you if you simply meant to share a poem here. If not - well, I guess I'll end you a message too, just in case.