Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

Friday, July 6, 2012

how can a world?



how can a world so barren
be so beautiful? how can i love but you in
this way or any other?

how can a world built on such sorrow
be my heart, be a pallatte bright, a light so
fresh - so pure, so right innocent of love
innocent
but for, not of you?     how?

tell me

how? can a world so
empty of all - be
so full, be so filled with such love, be what i have
always been looking
for? how can there be
anything else in this world, anyone more?
more than love, more

than you

how can a world so utterly barren, be so
beautiful?


bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2012



Monday, June 4, 2012

the thorn


it's graphic (this relationship)
the laying and the lifting
of it

covet i
the measure of you
design every movement of you
in my core
i dance in (my own) self created
consciousness,
carry what
was tomorrow wrapped as today
in a velvet blue sky
ribbon-ed white - soft, softer

control me? i say, "Yes" to it
love me i say, "No" not yet, not yet
but within time
the truest course of it - the subtly slow, swelling
of it

hand me the rose
one concealing but paper promise
unsigned and unsealed, for
i am trustworthy to lack of - committed
to the hope (of you)
and to the haunting beauty of
the thorn 

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2012

Friday, March 23, 2012

hours





a sun traces
a walkway between hours
folded neat black
over grey

the day has now found
itself in the candles quiet flame
reflects
a moon held captive
by the hourglass
of night

you? as i love
these hours

the carnation red loves the vase

you? as i have
come to love the warmth
of the flame

so why?  need dawn ever
come again
when the glass has been emptied
and loves hours have
been filled

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2012


Wednesday, April 20, 2011

round-about



round-about
i met you in the square
the wind blew
and i followed you
there, as 
a tinge of feathered sky - drifted
in-out, in and out the air

i found my heart centered
in the middle
of the square as a Jupiter moon fell
from the sky
handed itself to you and i
an apple you tasted  on my lips

followed you i
to there
past a cities square, shadowing
hair lengths falling through as the
moon into my fingers

and i caught there
a heart, my heart in the square
bouquet of summer, apples green
wrapped in rose, rising from
a springs rest, raining so subtle on the square
round-about
your hands,  my breast

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2011


Thursday, April 14, 2011

silhouette rain





its on a silhouette i write
its on the face of sealed window

i wait; in want-to wet your dreams
to quench your will, so kindly

its on the the sill of secrets kept
near you locked so tightly,

i but wind beating right, long, unleashing
sleeps fears, found fighting

a slivered spacing as the need
i seek, beneath a moon so blinding

i sing repeat, repeatedly
in light of window loves own lighting

Sleep My Love, as sliver sought 
 not long in love it i soon am finding

where we will meet wet and warm
in dreams of silhouette rain, in dreams
of rain delighting

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2011


Saturday, March 19, 2011

Can I write you a love letter?



Can I write you a love letter?
Who, capable of placing flame to page?
Not moonlight or love moments held
within this heart - words impossible to share
So can I write you letter? No, not of love, not here.

And yet,

you ask I sing you a love song
as the one frozen within my breast, in timeless
movement, as I have locked all song in fear. 
No, as I hold loves song  stilled
as my own guarded heaven - each note heard
only by my harbored ear. 

But bear me time eternal -  Love
its  flame, its  song.... that with this heart given 
you would give heart .. to me
...that I could pen and sing along, in

mercy, in loves meaning, in loves purest joy
fully expressed - between a giver and receiver
becoming fully blessed.   Thus, be my love, and
I thy lover with hearts  both entwined, and

I will write you a letter
sing songs in - loves delight
releasing word from - its fiery bondage -
and notes from
a sheltered night....

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2011

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

and soon i must depart




i fear, you will not choose again
to love me soon, as
i sit in neighboring chair,
and watch you
whisper and to her woon,
to her girlish passions
as if i was not here
offering me but a taste
of glass,  as you offer her your heart

and soon you will not choose me
and soon i must depart..

be now a love's memory, all
that's left of when
we first did meet,  when over me
you wooned and troubled
both time and taste; too chair
and soon you will not choose me
i now sense it clearly in the air

so soon i must be leaving
as for this, my heart, you
now no longer care, as once
you did , gone so soon from
when it was i that sat
in now what has come to be
 - her chair

bkmackenzie
copyrighted  2011.

Painting by artist :Hassam, Childe (American 1859-1935) Impressionist
"The Victorian Chair 1906"


Friday, February 4, 2011

Love's Manuscript




I began to script
line by line..this our love affair
as set over length and time, its muted voice
but that I had heard
in subtle breath placing it to word..
love's taste

love's touch, love's wine I penned
calling it to ledge to edge
of each page
a message of love's rapture spent, with my heart held
witness, held evident....and true
in truth
as one by one
the letters came then the words
like grace of want - of lace undone, falling
so willingly from my bed...scripting til' my soul
beseeched your kiss and once lay bled...and pressing
last will and testament to fervid, silkened,
ravished sheets 
I signed it, sighing with pausing breath
-as this Love's manuscript
complete

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2011

painting by Joan Griswold...you can view all her paintings at http://joangriswold.com/

Monday, December 27, 2010

Love Mortal



A Mortal Love I seek, I am not stone
Goddess's of past standing cold;
Rome's current shore- shown godless?
I have flesh, and
still it clings to supple bone, veined marrow

Comfort, none in promise
of a heaven that still thirsts
for my mortal soul, ... remorse held,
holding infinite death, that love would pass
from my partaking; and not
(... a martyr's fate - I refuse it's claim nor seek it's place
on a said judgement day)  For without it, Love...I am
but formless discontent, unforgivable by any winged angel or ether,
by any artisan's muse, lent full

Tell what earthen grave
would embrace  mortality's warmth/
expose an ashen soul to life? ...Love Mortal  itself is lone witness
to all posed as vital, human and willed perfectly finite....
as moon fulled to new
matched only by counted nights; Mortal?....I will
bear it in joy  -  Love, as word,or turn of tarot,
of fates
consecrating it - immutable
consecrating it - truth immortal...this

Love ... Mortal...


bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2010

Posted for One Shot Wednesday: Where Poets, Writers and Artists Meet

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Love Between Seasons




I fell in love between seasons
and lines upon the page
of a "Pride and Predjuice"
that held me at its door...somehow
you wanted more..more

than autumn,
could itself hold - and less than winter,
chilled  to warmth, yet not its bitter, icy cold
and with the last of nights candle
burning, you took it from my hair,
the ribbon
and its pleasure, pressed it to the page
closing the book on what would come -
between seasons and a flame 
that slowly slipped away, as did
reason, pride, all shame


bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2010

Posted for One Shot Wednesday, Where Poets, Writers and Artists Meet.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Crimson Pause



at the edge of crimson
where burnt melds orange to red
along an avenue of giants, fed by spring
stayed now in state, the blackening of forest
while winter white grace laden, awaits
it is the waning of November, final pause of an autumn's light
that leaves but dream of you - crystal, a place, of
 suspended sleep, and I do praying long - for
an immortals melt foreseen
a tempered moment, awakening moss green -  streams
 flowing where once I fell so deep...into promise, its love,
its mortal blind need of this...blissful
consummation, vital, its arousal of all (once)
 crimson and you - its,
your life giving
 kiss...


bkmackenzie
2010


 Magpie Tales #41

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Sonnet I - I felt of autumn


i felt of autumn beneath an apple tree
gathered on bed of leaf and sage nestled firm
where you first imparted sweet tenderness to me
and my love for you I did so ardently confirm,
my age not great enough to total understand
the given weighing of this latest mortal fall
taking the fruit, slicing it between our God and man
leave it i shall!  'til my breath moves to filter all
creed and dogma; the altars built of sculptor's stone
for a shelter, a canopy that shades world above
and know a garden which you (so gently) kissed into this bone
uniting shame to salvation, gift of autumn's gracious love -
a passion merged blessed; beauty standing without heaven's reason
as repentence banned, suspended (still) - seeks its own earthly season


bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2010


sonnet number 1

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Plagiarized Beauty...

You shelter me like that novella
your mother does not want you reading;
surreptitiously concealed within a palliasse'
resting in a shed behind the granary...

She leaves you with your lesson on sin.  Heading
for her own redemptive leaching....the dusty road
filters towards my clothesline, the signal
a reading of palms and tarot is due.

Wiping my brow on an apron of wanting ....
I gather into it my lesson plan and a jar
of cool water -
knowing full well not all words
are created equal, but given time,
and proper instruction
something beautiful
can be plagiarized from all...

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2010

posted for Poetry Pantry, Poets United
and Potluck Monday, Jingle Poetry

Sunday, September 26, 2010

The Door

A compilation of Love, it is what
I am looking for...not
lovers....the door stands wide open
close it; locked it will never be -
the key is here - handed over  with only
one required cure... ensure that
you shut it tight behind you
no matter the
side you take...lure
Me...Love
I  remain ....



bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2010

Thursday, September 16, 2010

intent....


Magpie Tales #32

the grains of sands flicker
as they always do, when you walk through the door
is it just the time of day, or
more
the intent of your visit
that produces such spark
whatever,
let it not matter
the sands pass quickly
and soon
it will be
dark....

bkmackenzie
2010

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Morning Coffee

You sat with your black coffee
I my morning tea,
and when you looked at me
I could taste young marigold honey,
though there was none on the table

You spoke that word - "forever"
I said "Yes", that I would have the time
and am able
to go on sharing morning coffee,
and any tastes of honey
but here - there was none on the table..

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2010


Posted for Jingle's Poetry Potluck Monday

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Long Sought...





















do not love me like another or one with feathered hat you bought
love me like the lover your heart has for so long sought

take me to the morning, the one the dawn has yet to kiss,
take me there, there where long since lovers in forever reminisce
held between the moon and midnight, between the stars and eternity
holding my name as your next breathe - is held in sweetest ecstasy...

do not love me like another or one with feathered hat you bought
love me like the lover your heart has for so long sought

give me but the moments that write volumes without end
suspend the everafter knowing full well it shall not come again
let me read within your eyes the words your silent lips dare not address
and press them to the pages that my life will inscribe as - its happiness

no, do not love me like another or one with feathered hat you bought
love me like the lover your heart has for so long now - sought....

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2010

posted for One Shot Wednesday.... Where Poets and Writers Meet

photo of Fay Wray

Monday, August 9, 2010

The County Vicar


He was the county Vicar
The county knew her as the forbidden fruit
He was intent on saving her soul from the fires of hell
She bore her own heavenly intention

Every morning he passed by her garden gate
boasting thistles and morning glory at the feet of hollyhocks in bloom
He kept step to the straight and narrow path that framed his existence
She was methodical in paving a stone path straight to her doorstep

Finally she conceded to a confession
He stepped across the stones towards a pot of chamomile tea and thistle honey cakes
The hall clock ticked to her heart beat
and she poured out more of the warmth tea provided

As the sun moved its face through the room
the fragrance of forgiveness permeated the summer air
She fell to her knees in front of him
placing her brow upon his linened lap

His hands graced the red locks flowing with unbridled will
He began to weep out loud
She forgave him...



bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2010

posted for One Shot Wednesday at One Shot Poetry

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Gather the Water Can

Magpie Tales #26

let us gather the water can
it sits on the garden wall
it has been sitting there all summer
i recall - since
our walk now months ago

we will need to store it now
before fall winds and winter's snow
i know we have another - that appears to serve us well,
but the old one is my favourite
darling, that you can surely tell

let us together head to the garden
to gather the water can -
it was the first one that you bought me
remember, when the garden's youth matched ours
then too you would accompany
me to the garden

where we gathered love
for endless hours...

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2010

Note:  I will be traveling most of next week - so I do not know if I will be able to check in on everyones tale ...will do my best as time permits......blessings to everyone....bkm

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Lucky Strike - Mrs. G




He said the lipstick stains left on her cigarette filters turned him on.
That was not long after they were married in 58’
Lynndy was 18, Al was 25 –
Lynndy was just out of high school.

Al was an insurance salesman.
“He has great potential,’ her father blurted out,
you couldn’t have found a better guy, he will provide for you,
just like I provided for you and your mother.”

During their honeymoon at Niagara falls Al made it clear,
“No wife of mine will be caught smoking an unfiltered cigarette
or caught drinking beer out of a bottle.” He looked straight into her eyes …
”My wife will have more class than that.”

Lynndy came to abide by the rules, Al’s rules,
that is until Charlie showed up at the back door -
with a ½ gallon of milk,
and a quart of orange juice
Charlie was the milkman.
Charlie also went to high school with Lynndy, he was a few grades
ahead of her, now he was - her milkman.

“Hey, Charlie! Do you happen to have a cigarette?” she asked one morning.
“Sure do,” was his answer. He pulled out a pack of Lucky Strike’s.
“Thanks,” was her reply as he gave her a light.
“You know Charlie, you know what would be good right now to go with
this smoke, a cold bottle of beer, don’t you think that would be good
right now Charlie?”
“You sure are right about that Mrs. G.”
Charlie never called a married woman by her first name,
even if he had known her for years. "Manners,
he called it, my daddy always taught me to treat a lady like the lady she is.”
“You know Mrs. G if you like I could bring you a cold beer tomorrow.”
“I would like that Charlie, see you tomorrow, thanks for the cigarette.”

That was the start of a weekday ritual for Charlie and Lynndy. Every morning
after Al pulled out of the driveway Lynndy waited by the kitchen window in
watch of the local milk truck. Charlie would offer Lynndy a Lucky Strike and a cold
bottle of Hamm’s beer. They would sit on the back porch
and talk about high school and  how the world was changing right before their eyes.
They would talk baseball andif the Cub’s were going to have a comeback year.
They would laugh. Lynndy loved to laugh. Then Charlie
 would end the conversation everyday with

“you know Mrs. G.. one day, one day I am going to strike it lucky
and have enough money to take you away from all this.
Then you and I can smoke cigarettes
and drink beer from a bottle everyday.
Wouldn't that be fine Mrs. G?"

Lynndy at that point would pick up her ½ gallon of milk
and quart of orange juice, open the back door and reply-
“sure would Charlie, see you tomorrow, right?”

“Right, Mrs. G-“

bkmackenzie
copyrighted

Posted for Alphabe-Thursday - Random Letter Week - Letter G click here for more of the Alphabet