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poetry by lou sid linesman - on life, love & politics
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Time
Ohh...ohh...no...
For that was not a true reply...
To you...my Dove...from I...
But spoken to another you...
My timing as usual all awry...
No way, no way a Dove to address,
Whom words will not, cannot caress,
Although I did so madly try...
And ohh...you always knew
what lyrics could never, never do...
And just one...touch...could synchronize
that unspoken promise
we once beheld
in each other’s eyes...
Then still and calm,
now maturing to balm
in a stroke-upon-stroking stream of warm desire
And I want to draw that silent statement
from your lips
And taste the honeyed language of your
deepest deep response
Ohh...ohh...yes
Please make it time...
and let’s go feel the full flow of those lucid lines of love.
© Lou Sid Linesman, 2006. All Rights Reserved.
Timing
Finally, I took a break from fighting my own fear,
And spent the weekend deep in peace,
I guess you did the same, my dear.
My thoughts, they circled back to you,
But there was still no sign, no clue,
So every poem in my sight became a verse to me from you,
And one I responded to.
I’m absolutely sure I’m right!
You must have felt the self-same need,
For when I posted mine I saw
That yours had come on there, so sweet, so soft, so bare,
So straight-to-the-point and devil-may-care,
And I had just sent to you a right-rare scolding,
With my usual immaculate desperate timing.
I’ll meet you half-way down the oldest Love Lane,
In the heart of the City, you know the one?
Just give me the timing, I’ll wait for you there,
You can turn, turn again, you can stand-off and stare,
Or pass me right by, leave me with not a care.
© Lou Sid Linesman, 2006. All Rights Reserved.
