Bed With You

When you lie close to me, my dear,
on long, leisurely mornings,
no wonder I'm reluctant
to leave you alone in the bed.
I'd rather cuddle up,
stroke your thick, soft hair,
murmur in your half-attentive ear.

I love the way you stir a little,
stretch your lazy limbs,
then settle once again.
Your warm breath on my cheek
blows lightly, rhythmically.
I put an arm around you
gently, not to disturb.

You make a muffled noise
between a squeak and a grunt,
but your eyes remain closed;
you take a deeper breath.
Soon I must rise, I think.
Still I linger, smiling,
as you twitch your whiskers and purr.

April Challenge 29 (2008): Write a poem in the second person.
Submitted in 2013 (five years later!) to Poets United's Verse First ~ Body

Poem from a Song

April PAD challenge 13. Today's prompt is to write a poem 'based off your response to a song'.

Ute Lemper sings Lili Marlene

on my friend's MySpace, my friend
who speaks with humour and courage
of her hair falling out and body slowing.

The singing swells and fades, rises again,
deep, soft, sweet notes, crescendos, and then
at the end quietly chilling: "Death is a Master
in Germany," she says. Bill who is dead used to love

that song, Lili Marlene. His father sang it
after the war in Holland; how strange
they all loved that song of Germany, the Allies.

And I love it too, in Ute's perfectly controlled
voice and diction. She plays me like strings
and transcends her own artifice. I am taken beyond

the pain of my breaking marriage, the awkward
rapprochement with my son by the man who is dead,
and my friend's journey of illness and recovery.

Many friends this year are falling seriously ill.
"Doc" who clears entities tells me, until December
we have to stay strong, after that the energy will turn.


13/4/08