Tag Archives: love poem

Quadradic Equation

Lonely
isn’t
being alone
on a cold
November evening
watching the trees
release their orange
confetti
into the wind
and lonely
has nothing to do
with silence
or the dark shadows
that slowly
enter your room
and lonely
isn’t
in the open space
between the stars—
lonely
is the
navigable road
between two houses
it’s the closable
distance
that goes unclosed
lonely
is your otherwise
empty hand
holding
a photograph
of someone
you love
who loved you
not enough
to feel the absence
of your face
as a problem
that needed to be
examined
and solved.

 

 

DeMaris
11-13-17

Spectator

I think of you
wandering alone
through the dense
clusters of bluebells
and wood poppies
to the place where
wildness takes over
and replaces your worry
with calm—
and you opened
that door for me once
and led me into
your private sanctuary
where everything
was in bloom
and seemed perfectly
untamed
and without taint
and I felt the excitement
of a tourist
getting a glimpse
of paradise so pure
my temporary presence
must have seemed to you
a small contamination.

 

 

 

DeMaris
4-17-17

Easter Sunday, 2017

I spent the morning
without Jesus
lingering like he used to
on the outskirts
of my sinful heart.
Now that I’ve cracked him
like an Easter egg
I can enjoy all the candy
of my imagination
without wondering
if he’s been peeking
into my private windows
as if some stone
had been rolled away.
And all the forgiveness
in the world
will not remove the
joy I feel for every sin
I’ve committed
in the name of love.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
4-19-17

 

 

Pep Talk

Sometimes it’s helpful
to imagine yourself
on your deathbed
or on a ship
sinking in the Pacific
hours away from shore—
or at the doctor’s office
reviewing test results
that feel like a life sentence—
short, abbreviated, abridged.
Today could be your last
and might as well be—
you are living as if
you have time to kill—
as if he does too—
that man you love so much
you’ve been seeing stars
when you close your eyes—
but you witnessed
a car wreck just last week
and you slid on the same
black ice that flipped
that minivan upside down
with a life inside
crashing into the reality
that it doesn’t matter
how much time
you think you have—
all you need to do is
stop the car, turn around
and drive back
to where you left him
in front of the fire—
tell him your love
is as solid as a brick wall
and you’d like to invite him
to drive into it.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
3-7-17

Photograph by Bill Brandt, “Hallifax” 1937

Photograph

 

It feels like I’ve said
almost everything I can
about the way I love you—
the way it feels warm to have you
in the center of my heart—
and how happy I am to wake up
next to that smile of yours
even if it’s just a picture of us
together on our happiest day
being silly and reckless
somewhere in the middle of our lives
which were never
supposed to converge like this
in the middle of nowhere—
and when I took that photo
deep in the woods, my right arm
wrapped tightly around you,
I wasn’t thinking
about the past or the future—
or the ethics of our union.
I wasn’t thinking that one day
I’d need to explain
what I was doing there with you—
that no one else would see what I see
in that joyful photograph—
all the love, beauty, bravery
and restoration—
the depth of feeling
words are powerless to express
or deny.

 

 

 

DeMaris
3-6-17

 

Why I Love Him

We don’t need each other, really,
in a desperate kind of way
like high school kids
dying for just one hello in the hallway—
we aren’t betting everything
that the queen of hearts
will give us her blessing
and a happily ever after—
we just know what feels right
right now—
and it happens to be the question mark
our bodies make when we’re still
after making love
and curled up naked and content
beside a fire that is slowly dying.

 

 

 

DeMaris
3-4-17

Painting by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec “In Bed the Kiss” 1892