Posts Tagged ‘kiss’

untitled love poem number two

lips finding me    e v e n   i n   d e a d   o f   n i g h t
mid-stride in thought, then    t o s s e d   a s i d e
rosetta flowers pressed    i n   t h e i r   b o o k
poured ladles wanting more    a s   e a c h
breath    e s c a p e s
lips and teeth and jaw
just that fierce,    b o n e   t o   p u l s e
fire    w a s   a   t e n d e r n e s s

coda pas de deux:
a kiss decades close    l a y i n g   h e r e
h o n e y   a s h e s   o n   t o e s


neil reid © june 2013


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c a l c u l u s

we scrape we calculate
we reason, wrestle with memory.
we copy we emulate, translate recklessly.
we dictate we enumerate
we carve in stone, we draw in sand.
we say there’s meaning, here & there
truffles we nose beneath hungry pens.
even attempt to diagram, yet it’s the details
we adopt then leap-frog phonetic math.
we kiss we nibble, we defray our doubts
we drink the temper of tales. we conjugate.
we blend, we mix the match, we satirize.
we queue our words, we hypothesize,
thirst for quantum truth.
we use pencils with eraser hands.
used oft to cajole dead reckoning,
approaching harbor round-about.
we commune by derivative script.
we reflect we are the left-hand mirror
of that which birthed what meanings mean.
such then is our fine calculus,
we rise we fall, children like rain.
we splash in the gutters
all the way home from school.

neil reid © july 2011

Being the lesser of three monsters (let’s say bears, to be polite) that landed on my plate. Have you looked up and read the definition of “calculus” in the dictionary? Interesting. We make much of little perhaps (but what choice?) (and maybe that’s the poem’s home field of play) (and don’t we feel, don’t we care about all the many infinitesimal bits that construct our selves, our lives, our days?). So here, given some brief honor, and brought home close to play.

And, I love to play on the edges of what I poorly understand, yes, like calculus. Therein being one joke. I did pass a college course, basic stuff, called Analytic Geometry and Calculus, but of that class all I remember is the title now. Tarnished, I suppose!

And, isn’t it wonderful, the things we don’t yet understand? Like quantum theory! Which even the science folk say no one really understands as yet. Really, isn’t that wonderful, that mystery yet remains! So we here do some make this play for you. Enjoy if you might! My happy foolishness!

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this is how

this is how

this is how it is supposed to be.
this is how leaves fall from the tree.
this is how the pie is pinched and baked.

this is how we know.  this is how we lay in bed.
this is how we tie our shoes.  this is how we
button our shirts and pants.

it is important to know these things.
when the pitcher falls off the shelf,
when the keys get mislaid.

this is how momentum lights a match.
this is how words condense.
this is how it is supposed to be.

when we have doubt.
when a kiss arrives just in time.
this is how it is supposed to be.

neil reid © april 2011

Process notes:
Almost a poem. Almost a whole thought complete. Here’s what quiet scratching had to say. Not meant to be sentimental by any means, but this time it was just a kiss that came. (Neither to diminish a kiss!) And yet a challenge remains… to take that first thought, full without even words, and carry it onto a page.

Still, I wonder if this poem elaborates enough? And it is my way often to explain and explain from every angle I can see (like here?), so of late I’m favoring fewer over more words to say and even removed a couple stanzas from this poem as it is and this is how.

Haven’t written much of late (ebb and flow I suppose) while so many are right now pouring out their poems-a-day in honor of April’s National Poem Writing Month. Blessings to them and their pens. Maybe selfishly I prefer my own pace, glacial as it may be at times. Still it feels good to write.

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One Kiss

What to do when someone you love is not so near?  Imagine this.  Yet consider too, it is a literal truth, standing on a late night balcony.


One kiss.



This breeze that touches your face,

takes the scent of you, lingers,

takes the kiss of your lips, sighs

that take the breath of you,

    undressing memories,

then lifts feather wings, spawning

desire through shafts of warm blue,

falling into embrace with white dreams,

    tumbling down peninsular eddies

    beside gull’s bay and buzzard pine,

comes to me, heaven’s unseen touch,

as a sparrow’s breath upon my lips,

    dancing over skin,

    whispering reflected shapes –

    sweet messenger,

this breeze that touches my face.


I drink this breath of yours,

even as my loving you takes flight.


1997 © Neil Reid


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