Tag Archives: Love

Love is (II)

It wasn’t that I was lonely

It was simply that I wasn’t with you.

How much would I give to look up and to see you coming towards me?


How much would I give to feel your hand wriggling into mine?


How much would I give to be able to lean over and kiss your lips?


Do you miss me as much as I miss you?

Could you?

Do you need me as much as I need you?

Do you?

It’s not that I’m alone, it’s just that you aren’t by my side, laid in my arms, in my sight, within my reach.

I love you.



I didn’t understand flying and to be fair, flying probably didn’t understand me.


I was sitting in the departure lounge, looking out of the windows at the plane I would shortly by boarding.

It was huge!

And made of metal!

It must have weighed as much as a big house!

I’ve never seen a house fly, how on earth could this monstrosity take to the skies?

I mean, sparrows, ok, they flap their wings like crazy and somehow take off, but this metal monster, didn’t even flap it’s wings!

All beyond me!

Then the thought got worse!

Soon there would be three hundred people inside this aluminium tube, not only three hundred people, but three hundred people carrying every scrap of their belongings that they could squeeze inside a suitcase.


How much do three hundred suitcases weigh?

And clothes!

All these inconsiderate people have decided to wear clothes!

I looked around in panic, hoping that at least some people would be in their underwear to give us the tiniest chance of getting this thing into the air.

I shouldn’t have looked around, if I hadn’t I may not have noticed the mobile phones, or the head phones, iPads, laptops, game consoles, hand luggage, foodie drinks!

We were doomed, have these people got a death wish?

I turned my attention back to the plane, just in time to see a huge petrol tanker begin to shift the equivalent of sixteen oil wells into the planes wing. I say, barely breathing, waiting for the wing to snap off under the burden.

The catering truck came to a halt and enough food to feed Somalia for a year was squeezed on board.

Not content with the fuel and food, a thirty six coach luggage train arrived and began disgorging mountains of suitcases into the underbelly of the plane.

Things were looking really bad, why did no-one else look worried?

I looked around the lounge again and saw an old couple sitting a little ways away from me. The lady was trying to get out of her chair and the man she was with, hurried round to help.

He, very gently, put his arms around her and eased her out of the chair. Still holding her, he picked up two sticks, one at a time and placed them into her quivering hands. She was stooped and bent even supported by her sticks. The man took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped some spittle from her mouth. He leaned close, whispered something to her, stroked her thinning hair and then kissed her.

The poor lady, was at best plain, her body bent and broken, her hair thin and straggly, the jumper she was wearing was buttoned up wrong and yet she had a presence, a quiet grace. When the man kissed her, she had the smile of an angel.

I watched them move away. She lurched and staggered, but his arms were there, holding, guiding and supporting her.

I felt a year form in my eye as I watched true, real love stumbling across the room, lurching, almost falling, the arms always there, the whispered words if encouragement.

How I envied them.

I learned a lot that day. None of it about flying. I saw myself in a different light and not all of it was good, in fact not much of it was good.

I wish the old couple a safe journey and may God bless and keep them safe.



How many lives are we given to live in this one life of ours?
And how many loves are we given to love along the way?

Today I sat in a cemetery
The wind was so cold it was cutting
Leaves in glorious colours flew past on this cutting wind
Almost too colourful for a cemetery
Coppers, gold’s, bronzes.
Whoever painted those leaves knew their stuff
The long grass bent under the wind
Too flimsy, too weak to stand up to the tempest
The trees waved in protest
There were flowers everywhere
Single stems lay in precise places
Bunches in vases
Bunches carefully tied to trees
So colourful
So beautiful
So poignant
Some had little messages
Some long letters
There were teddy bears
There were greeting cards
It was quite sad
But it was comforting
Talking to the ones who left early can be comforting

The sky was gun metal grey
Clouds raced each other across the horizon
Hammering into one another
Sparking long lines of lightning
Rolling thunder booming over the land
And I sat with the ones who had gone early

Sometimes I think about things
Isn’t it strange?
You are never frightened when you are holding hands
Cuddles can heal so much
Sometimes I ask questions
Will I love again?
Dare I love again?

I recall
How good it is to hold a hand
with no thought other than to be just holding that hand
I remember how soft a kiss can be
How much pleasure one can get from watching someone you love
doing nothing
I remember the saying
You don’t regret the things you do
You only regret the things you don’t do
I wonder who writes these things

You can’t lie in cemeteries
You have to tell the truth
I think it’s a rule
So when a question pops into your mind
You have to answer it

Life is so short

How many lives are we given to live in this one life of ours?
It was strange for me to realise there are lives within our lives.
And how many loves are we given to love along the way?

Is this our last life?
Is the person in your mind your next love?
Is the next love the last love?

I can see the rain in the distance
The sky hurling the downpour onto the earth
Thunder laughing at the misery it causes
Lightning, piercing, stabbing at unseen targets
I sat on the bench huddled up against the cold
I watch leaves dancing
Waiting for the rain
For the trees
For me
How many more chances?
How many more dances?

I stand and say my goodbyes
Blow a kiss or two
I’ll see them all again
One day
I turn
And set off to seek what is out there for me
Funny places cemeteries
Sometimes you get answers to questions you never knew you had.


Amongst broken branches.

This poem came to me whilst I walked through a forest and suddenly came across a huge section that had been cut down, leaving only an odd bare trunk that seemed to stand guard over it’s fallen friends. A sad and desolate place, waiting for new life to be breathed into the ravaged earth, but a place to reflect, in the way that sitting in a cemetery seems to bring about reflection and questioning.

 Like twisted limbs the trees did bend

Their trunks in tortured stance

The wind did whip and howl and tear

To force them into dance

The forest deep in dappled greens

Did swallow in my sounds

In silent step on cushioned earth

I walked this hallowed ground

The whispers came like murmured prayers

Soft floating through the air

They cut the wind like spirit knives

But no single leaf did stir

‘What love, what love,’ the whisper asked

‘What love, what truth is this?’

‘In unrequited warm embrace

Doest linger in her kiss?’

The question asked the murmur fades

From when and whence it lives

Whilst words they burrow deep and worm

No answers do they give

And so it goes this forest stroll

Amongst these stricken trees

The truth it lies ‘mongst broken branch

By lips brought to it’s knees