One Day There Was Love

One day there was Love,
holding of hands,
intimate moments,
whispered promises
to last an eternity.
These things were truth forever.

And then,
scarcely noting the passage of time,
Love turned upon itself,
destroyed its own image,
collaborated with meanness,
pettiness and deceit,
stormed the citadels of passion,
accused the unforgiven,
raged
when it should have wept,
sickened
when it should have died.


Poem by Shirley Rod, copyright 1980's & 2001.

I can't do this any longer

The pure caress
of your voice washes over me
like the whisper of fusion
and I lose the resolution
I had been seeking.
Clearly, weaving quilts
of self-destruction:
this will never do.
I can not live like a shoe
in starts and fits
of unrequited passion.
Pressed into presumption,
probably, core values
careen and crash,
smashing into bits,
crying, a crucible of shame.
It is unbecoming of rain
to cancel, so sweetly
the final figuration,
but such is the game
in this caustic world
that such a situation
though contagious and strange,
goes unnoticed, foresworn;
the beating, breathing girl
is frequently being reborn
and everything must change


Poem copyright by Dennis Tyler.

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