Browse our categories:
Adventure
Collections
Contemporary
Literature
Crime
Fantasy
Gay
& Lesbian
Historical
Horror
Humour
Medical
Mystery
Paranormal
Psychological
Thriller
Romance
Science
Fiction
Thrillers
War
Young
Adult
Non
Fiction
Poetry
- sole authored collections
Poetry
- multi authored collections
Any Time
by
Tony Lewis-Jones
It
could be an afternoon like this,
And she could leave
Without having said amen or goodbye.
It
could be slightly overcast
And humid, with a chance of rain,
And cloud hovering on the hills across the water.
It
could be any afternoon
At any time for any of us.
Better not let the moments slip.
The Duchess of Argyll
Her
sofa is a battleground on which
lovers compete. The boundaries of good taste
are not assaulted. Sex is dividing silk
or polishing a gem: the ultimate
release of feeling, renewable, complete.
She
keeps no servants and the house is cold.
Age has been tactful, but is not a friend.
The Duchess of Argyll is dead. Eclipsed
by time, sold to posterity. Outside
men one would never take to bed
are
loudly singing home. Another
desperate look into those eyes that hold
ghosts of a previous happiness.
Her fine hair still suggesting gold.
Off The Record
These
unguarded moments
which are never made public
between people, the long tears
she shed after her mother's funeral -
an angel counted them all,
has numbered them.
This
early morning, getting dressed
she snagged a nail on her tights,
and laughed and cursed, and I thought
how privileged I am to know her when
the masks are down. Our lives are full
of
secrets which might mean
nothing to anybody else, which only
ourselves and the wise angels ever see.
Her Careful Craft
She
makes tapestries. She sits
For hours most days, ensuring
The needle goes through
In the perfect place,
The thread following
Obediently. It's an art, or maybe
An exact science, because
Each design has its own template
And any variation will destroy
The whole effect. It requires
Patience and no little skill
To bring a tapestry to life.
I sit, watching her careful craft,
Cannot comprehend
The knack of it. I want to make
Something as fine and beautiful.
The Sea Revokes
At this time of year, I think of the sea,
Its dark vacancies, its changeless changing,
The great ships and the small boats
Going about bravely, and the skillful people
Who plot their courses
And very rarely make a mistake.
And it occurs to me that this is how we live:
Male and female, our ways seldom crossing,
Maybe a glimpse from afar and passing on
And very rarely being in the same port.
And this is how I feel for you, my love,
Now that our paths have gone so utterly apart.
I like to think of you in some sunny harbor
While I am out testing the waves and spray.
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
The rights of Tony Lewis-Jones to be identified as the author has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and patents act 1988
All electronic books
supplied in Adobeď™Acrobat™format.
Refunds will be given at the discretion of the Company Management.
Copyright © 2002 BeWrite Books. All rights reserved.
Comments to: The BeWrite.net team