Agony Poet

Lust crashes into the soul of its host,
Sinking then exploding with fervour.
It then boils, before shooting to every limb
Flashbulbs intoxicated; but can these sparks
Come close to the rich tapestry of love? – No
For lust surges with wild enthusiasm
Feeding a self-gratifying hunger
That deliriously claws the belly
From the inside and out, leaving the mind
A temple to corporeal aspects of self
Standing windswept like lonely stone circles.
Love on the other hand, is a precious
Eulogy that dances in quiet splendour,
Enveloping two bodies and shared minds,
Nurturing a mixture of intense care
And strong devotion, that continue
Past lust’s fading embers and dying strains.

– The Agony Poet

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A market stall’s covering gently flutters
In the early Spring breeze,
As the scents of fruit and fresh bread mingle;
The young man gazes towards her
As she lowers excited eyes;
Crowds hurry looking for new things to buy.

How courage reaps rewards that reverberate,
Up to the heavens high;
Her smile stills all sounds that weave encircling;
The beauty of her face and soft voice
Kindle faint embers in his heart;
A bird merrily chirps in nearby trees.

Morning sun reflecting in her rich green eyes
Enrapture seduced passion,
Coursing through their consecrating psyches;
Soon he proposes by the brook
And a week later they marry
In a little church amongst joyful crowds.

Paradisiacal events then unfold
With the arrival of twins
Bringing exaltation to both parents;
Her red flushed cheeks shine like apples
As she watches their children play.
Love sits on thrones of permanence.

A Winter arrives that brings fearsome concern
As she sits by his bedside
Scared, for his life, whilst the doctor is called;
Tears soak the pillows where his head
Rests in her warm and tender embrace,
A sweet kiss breaks free the chains of sickness.

The children play with their toys, by the shined shoes
Of visiting guests and priest,
Her finest china cups are handed out,
Conversations float through hallways
Where life continues resolute;
His gaze rests upon her resplendent brow.

Wrinkles and blemishes emerge as years pass,
Yet her prettiness remains,
Sitting sipping tea they talk through the nights,
Laughing at their shared memories
And drying her moistening eyes,
Then dancing in flickering candle light.

Old age ravages the once soft skin of youth,
As eyes watch passing seasons,
And memories slowly fade away;
He studies the contours of his love,
Sitting quietly sleeping peacefully.
Silently watching her life disappear.

“It is sad”, says the daughter to the doctor.
“My father died years ago”.
She picks up a small silver square,
From the dressing table nearby.
Faint tear stains rest discernable,
Trapped in the frame of an old photograph.

© Edward Beaman-Hodgkiss