Love and Loveless

I heard it in a love song

We touch the pulse of morning’s breath
the rich dark honey
of summer’s light,
lays bare the shades that paint the sea,
the black-tongued bells that
tolled the night,
awakens the damp mounds of grass
and dune;
the tidal pools would they sleep too soon.

And the wind is unquieter than
the gull-winged bird,
it drifts along the shallows with their
stoned-faced crags,
sea life clinging to its garboard strakes-
starfish, silvery minnows,
anemones, urchins and barnacles.

The sea is within us, its different
voices heaving homeward
in our hearts- its rhythm, its pulse
unraveling its beauty
with each passing sound;
its still waters the ecstasy of life.

Time stops for us between midnight
and dawn, the silent sea
threading together the past
and the present;
moments of happiness in the warmth
of its depths, its currents
flowing through us like brined rivulets.

Here, where the world is quiet with
sleeping streams,
gentle rain sows the sea, pale
beds of waves blossom the shore,
clouds take wing
and follow the sun.
Here, where winds blow leaping, we
whirl and toss into amorous dancing,
up Up into the stars.
We have no names, just love and lover.

I heard it in a love song

Where have all the children gone

Jug Jug Jug our parents drink,
words spewed out
on serpents tongues,
Adam and Eve white as skeletons
in the garden of Eden;
bride and groom kindled back
to the beginning.

We are their priests and servants.
In the streets we sow
the seeds of their loins like virgins,
we chant under the
headstones of our labor;
words as cinders burning in
our little skulls.

Into the organ pipes and steeples
of alleys-
cathedrals for the forgotten,
the dead mouths burn on the altar
like sacrificial lambs;
glory, glory, glory to god in the
thundering kingdom of his thunder.

Forgive us, forgive us, as we crumble
back into darkness,
our births cannot atone for our sins;
we are bare in the
nurseries of earth’s wilderness-
ditches where we drag
our innocence.

The molesters, the laborers kneading
our bodies like prostitutes,
humping us in silence as we bleed;
drip drop drip drop,
our hearts exhausted wells, our
sweat is dry and our feet in quicksand;
we are those hooded-hordes
stumbling in violent air.

Where have all the children gone

31 comments on “Love and Loveless

  1. Garima Puri says:

    Excellent sir 😊😊

  2. Your poems are an ecstasy, Sir. 😃

  3. weedjee says:

    Excellent… when you read poems by Lance, luxury as delicatessen to our brains is accepted besides love will keep us alive as works by Lance!

  4. Deep words, Lance, very deep…
    Many thanks for your poems !

  5. After delighting in the first, “the rich dark honey of summer’s light, I am thrown into despair and horror with the lost and abused children! It;s more comfortable to read of course, of the sea and lovers in each other’s arms flying to the stars..but both poems, the light and romantic and the grotesque and horrifying,show us your incredible range with imagery and your spectrum in telling stories from both sides..Amazing writing Lance!.

  6. Excellent poem Lance! I was waiting to read your new poem and this, made my day! Thank you so much Lance!

  7. murisopsis says:

    Lance – although I enjoyed the first poem on love and lovers, the second one is my favorite. It is powerful revealing the tragic cycle of abuse and neglect (resulting in and from violence). It has put me in a reflective and somber mood…

  8. Oh, Lance. What a pairing. “I heard it in a love song” is sweet and lyrical, so evocative one can smell the sea and taste the salt of early morning passion. “Where have all the children gone” wrenches the heart out of one’s chest. Your talent is truly monumental.

  9. Joana Alaves says:

    Dear Lance, such powerful words!!! Many thanks 😊

  10. The first, exquisite. The second, gut wrenching in its truth (and that B&W pic of the kid is so evocative)

  11. IshitaVerma says:

    Wow 🤗
    Amazing work sir. 🤗

  12. Americans are like children, they believe in Santa Claus and the Epiphany and are still on the Hollywood moon behind Armstrong. This is fun.

  13. Time stops for us between midnight
    and dawn, the silent sea
    threading together the past
    and the present..Beautiful lines.. .Beautiful poem 🙂

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