Love poems…

Love flashed on and off

He had a wound record,
A rite of passage
Two fingers of gin
And all sweet hell;
Out of his handgun’s sight
A naked night stood straight,
He let his victims squeal
Then the red velvet blood
Inched its way out;
Not of grief or mourning,
Vagueness was enough from
A smoking revolver.

Big private detectives are mostly
Little men with dark, shadowy
Offices, yet he had knack for
Smelling out the taste of the
Stupidest part of his clients,
Especially the ones he fell in
Love with, especially if the color
Of their eyes were lapis-lazuli
Blue; their hair the color of
Red, fiery dust; tall with lots
Of rouge makeup in the right
Places, and a look that stabbed

Him in the heart like a dirk. He
Never had to look hard to find
Them, they always seemed to
Be in the right place—standing
By his window sipping in the
Groundswell of traffic in a big
Angry city, feeding him all the
Answers like pennies being fed
Into a gum ball machine; and
Constantly getting the same
Color. One, however, had a
Score to settle—and she was

Hungry for revenge. Finishing
The drink she had been offered,
And being slightly tipsy, drew a
Rather pointed knife from her
Clutch. You must be congratulated,
My dear, how deceitfully clever,
He said with a certain hollowness,
As he stuffed his cigarette into
An already smoldering ashtray.
But not clever enough as he fired
Off one round from his gun
Which was neatly available in

His desk’s top drawer. The spill
Of her blood was slightly halted
By her quivering hand held over
The entrance wound in her stomach,
He mistook playing luck far too
Long. Handcuffed and arrested,
Was sent up a muddled river
By his nemesis, a judge on the take.
You won’t like most of the cons
In the joint, and they won’t like you
Too well, his raspy voice clamored.
And the coffin velvet inched out.

Love flashed on and off

 

I struggled towards the light

Only when
as a water shade I touch your memory;
I touch you with my
Mouth.

Bands, bands, bands of time
tick
away the hours of you,
pulse
and un-pulse forever, grasping
beneath your skin
until time dries you out,
whiter and whiter.

I am helpless and desperate
in a nightmare-
I meet the apparition of you;
I feel you
one more time,
your smoky hair curtains your
cheek.

Flecks of your skin
scatter
like whitewash,
I am parched for your
mouth;
I am in a dead walk
in a dream.

I smell the sea holding you up,
I wonder,
is this the beginning
and shall
I be with you, my love.

I struggle towards the light
in the barren,
stormy existence
of you;
pulse and pulse
in the bag
of night-
brush your lips with mine;
a moment for
our souls.

I struggled towards the light

37 comments on “Love poems…

  1. KINDNESS says:

    Oh my gosh, I think Jack Sparrow had me again in his clutches ( wish I could post pictures ) the words rang like oceans smashing against my soul ❤️🙌🙌

  2. crazywitch25 says:

    Wonderful — as usual.

  3. weedjee says:

    When the beauty take shape… the works by Lance ! Hats off !

  4. francisashis says:

    Thanks a lot for sharing from the bottom of the heart.🌹🙏

  5. Love poems…not the kind found on a Hallmark Valentine, not the words you even associate with love, well unless of course passion lives under the umbrella of romantic love, like a coiled snake. These poems are not sonnets to be recited before a fire, embers burning down..These poems are about where love can take a wrong turn..become violence or become lost..only floating in an azure memory. In both these poems, Lance, you demonstrate your capacity to shock and intrigue, bewitch (like flames do to moths) and then to pull from our depths, a surge of compassion as we bear witness to a drowning’s last kiss,

    • Karima, your reviews of my poetry are tantamount to your diligence, proficiency, not only as a writer, but as a reader- forever inspiring all that are fortunate enough to know. Thank you!

  6. NZain says:

    Blue-eyed red heads get me every time…

  7. Humphrey BOGART and Lauren BACALL are not so far… 😉
    Thank you, Lance.

  8. Oh, shades of Mickey Spillane! I enjoyed this, Lance. But, of course, I always enjoy your work.

  9. librepaley says:

    So atmospheric, like 2 in the morning in a dimly-lit bar.

  10. This is the first “poem noir” I’ve read about a hard-boiled detective. Well done!

  11. Both quite different – the first, I found almost story-like, and the second, full of romance – but equally good! Enjoyed them, Lance!

  12. Lance, I love your pictures but not as much as your words.
    Greetings from the beautiful and sunny Rhine-Highlands / Germany…
    Rosie

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