In a Spill of Sighs
"In a Spill of Sighs"
and Other Love Poems
by Daniel Hargrove
Copyright 2014 Daniel Hargrove
Cover art copyright 2014 Daniel Hargrove
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Table of Contents
1) In a Spill of Sighs
2) In the Dearest Wish
3) Myra Lansford Maywald
4) Off the Bank
5) Reflection
6) 'Till I am Old and Gray
7) Afire
8) In Petals' Circle
9) In Scent of Love
10) Just Wishes
11) (untitled)
12) As the Ephemeral Blossom
13) Migration
14) No
15) Only You
16) Parcel
17) Port
18) Supper
19) The Underdog
20) As It Was Whispered
21) Bird of Paradise
22) Estate (w. Sophi Zimmerman)
23) On the Wildness of Love
24) One Morning
25) The Ferment
26) A Mouse's Love
27) In a Spirit, Twice
28) The Pull of the Equinox
29) Without
30) Of a Sweet Moment
31) As My Hunger Grew
In a Spill of Sighs
Darling firefly
lit the water
and every gray angel
laid down
she is where a blossom
breezily slept,
silk slipper off.
Bark creaks gently
over tussle with water and stones,
tiny spinner looming there...
and a gentle breeze
moves me
to the swan's call.
Tired eyes settle
If I never knew
another whisper,
always one will ring beyond the door;
your promise of forever, there,
to one
who saw a difference
in your blush.
In the Dearest Wish
The sweetest wine has few admirers...
and the reddest rose
cannot compete
with a simple maiden's blush...
true romance has few believers
except in the abandon
of a lovers' passionate kiss...
Unravel a word,
and nothing left but string...
without love
no one has heard of heartbreak...
only in tears
may a man know the taste of her heart...
Many a tired old man
has left it behind...
some have waited on it
until their last breath
has wished it again and finally...
once the doubts are over and gone
then whispers have learned their measure...
Myra Lansford Maywald
Myra Lansford Maywald
would like to have stitched a doll's dress
for her favorite one
which she only sometimes shared.
she'd be the first to offer up
her golden haired baby
for feeding or perhaps to cuddle,
as sometimes children need to rock
to reach their dreams, in spite
of being pretend.
She'd gladly show the one that talked
explaining everything
that sometimes people heard
and some did not.
You often had to pull the string
more than just three times.
Even with her brother
she'd sometimes share
the floppy Raggedy Ann
though he would punch it in the face
and peek under its dress.
She always held her while she cried...
but there was one she loved the best
that she kept mostly to herself...
and old and beat up negress doll
her mother had picked up
for half a cent
at some old resale shop.
She brought it out when no one saw
and gently brushed its curly hair
and cooed it quietly off to sleep
until she later
carefully
put it away.
Off the Bank
Kindled are her eyes
that she slipped into my pocket
which are treasured
and kept hidden, there...
She seems to know at just what time
a brilliant edge of orange sun
will show itself
above the still dark trees...
this is the time
I seek fire at her pouting lips
and she rattles my bones for a clack,
stray sparks splintering down my sleeve...
I am all wrapped up;
swaddled in blue, like a good blue boy,
and leafing again through my big book
of good boy poems and phrases...
"I am yours," I tell her then,
but she does not understand me...
I keep her eyes, anyway,
so they will not get lost.
Reflection
The herbs have been cut
and dried
and it is tea time...
time for a sip,
and to relax
with the paper
while the city hurries on
wherever it's going.
The kettle starts to whistle
and the steam
forms outlines,
somehow familiar...
and the high pitched keening
of an unanswered note
sings away
into a silent room.
'Till I Am Old and Gray
I spin
under the stars
crying
"My heart is for her!"
I am a fool...
"Where is she?"
The world is too damn big...
too mean, too.
"I love you!"
The stars know me
so well,
swallow me up...
"Where are you?"
Will she throw it all
away?
"Find me!"
Whirling with a dance
of salt spilt on my table...
"I am waiting!"
The liars can all
go away...
and I explode under the watching stars
in a white-hot flash
that expands out into the night...
"Do you need me?"
...and I wonder if there's
anybody out there at all?
Afire
Enraptured by the sparks inside
no one spoke and no one tried,
no one cried and no one ran;
catch the sparkle if you can.
In Petals' Circle
The path was strewn with roses
that went around and back
to where it had begun...
and every lover
that had walked along it
came back from it
and went 'round to it
knowing it was where the flower
wrote the poet...
and every poem that followed from it
had your name within it
an
d your fondest wishes dreamed, there,
sleeping by the path.
In Scent of Love
Entranced again by lamplit eyes,
thought of fear are put to rest;
now our passions start to rise.
To open out is surely wise...
to speak of love is surely best...
entranced again by lamplit eyes.
Put behind me all those lies;
find a home within her nest...
thoughts of fear are put to rest.
Feeling skin of silky thighs,
ride the wave up to its crest,
entranced again by lamplit eyes.
I hear passion in her cries,
drawn in close at her behest,
thoughts of fear are put to rest.
Here we find eternal ties,
burn of fire in my breast,
entranced again by lamplit eyes,
thoughts of fear are put to rest.
Just Wishes
I wish I could write
that magical poem
with kisses
wrapped forever in it.
I wish I could show you
a home in my heart
but I am going away.
I wish I could catch
a lonely sigh
and soothe it gently
'till it glowed so warmly.
I wish I could
send away the cold
but I am the missing one.
I wish I'd find
your ear to whisper
a few fine words
to stir your passion.
I wish I'd know
your solemn promise,
but I can't write those lines.
I wish I'd know
your sweetest kisses,
and fill a page with our entangling
to give to you
for Valentines,
but love is locked away.
I wish these words
would find you waiting,
and wishes were not
wistful playthings
scattered on
your rug of fancies,
but hope is lost and gone.
(untitled)
Kept inside of tired hearts
one may often find
worn and tired promises
that, had they been kept,
would have meant eternal youth
and a place in heaven
to the heart in question.
Kept inside of jaded eyes
one may often find a spark
meant for a long-lost lover
that time hasn't taken away
and that spark
may jump again
if hope is nurtured, bright.
As the Ephemeral Blossom
A cousin to the sparrow and the swan,
a sister to the rosy touch of dawn,
a daughter to the sprinkle of spring rain,
a blushing bride to hearing aid and cane.
Like the gulls that wheel and dive on rolling sea,
captured by the wind that sets them free.
Like the eagle, far above us, flying high,
soaring, very still, upon the sky.
Brighter than the lick of hottest flame,
cooler than September, just the same,
harder than a jungle cat to tame,
elusive as a butterfly to name.
Like the drops of morning dew upon the lawn;
love is everywhere, and then it's gone.
Migration
The birds are leaving
and icy branches hang bare
to mourn with the wind
a spring that never seems to come.
There are warmer climes
and warmer times to be had
away from this chilly winter
that did not weave a nest.
It is like this every time...
unfairly, the clouds gather
and wash out the brilliant stars
from the deep and resonant heavens.
Every last feather that beats on a wing
drums its way on to the south
to carpet the willows on the rivers.
Wave goodbye to the summer birds
who stay where it is warm...
don't let the frost bite too hard
nor the snows cover your bed.
No
It was May
but she wore her favorite scarf
all through the summer
though it was too warm for one...
it is not scarf weather anymore.
She liked to show it off
though it is hot
when you dress like that
and the sun is shining
full and high overhead.
She would not take off for anyone...
she would not take it off at work...
she would not take it off at parties...
she would not take it off in bed...
she would not take it off at all.
In July she turned red and sweated
and itched and was very hot
and I asked her why
she wouldn't take off the scarf...
she simply shook her head, no.
Only You
Only if you want me, here...
only if you want to be here,
heart
and soul.
Only if your everything
is in it...
only if you can give yourself to me
as I
give myself to you.
Only if you have met your loneliness
and told it "No...forever, no."
Only if your eyes
have already looked in mine,
and looked into my soul.
Only if you know.
Parcel
No one ever came to claim it
wrapped in brown paper
with twine tied around it
and it sat in a back room
at the post office
for what seemed like years
gathering dust
and completely forgotten
What was in the parcel
no one knew
no one asked
The address on the package
was non-existent
and the return address
was smudged so badly
that no one could guess
to whom the parcel
belonged
If you know
to whom this package belongs
please notify me
and I will see to it
that the package is returned
to the rightful owner
If I do not receive
notification in writing
by the date specified
the dispensation of the package
will be decided
by the proper authorities
Port
Known only as a whisper
lost somewhere among the shadows
quiet and unseen like a spider
feeding on its misplaced anonymity
a carelessly dropped promise
made in a timeless interlude
Once I had so many moments
all golden and standing on my mantlepiece
each a treasured memory
and many more floating on the wind
This time I wore like a jacket
now it hangs on the coat rack
If every second were recorded
an entry in my diary
so many would ring like bells
hollow and sharp
bells I will always remember
and an endless parade of names
We are bound by our words
tied like a boat to a dock
when we cast off to sea
we must return eventually
words only half remembered
I am waiting patiently
Supper
T
hey boiled her down
till she was thick and soupy
and put her in his bowl
with a piece of french bread
for a fine supper.
She was rich and tasty,
steaming hot and full of
onions and carrots and potatoes
and he was hungry as hell
having not eaten in a week.
He wolfed her down
and she warmed his stomach
as no other broth could.
She warmed his heart, too,
and he was deeply satisfied.
They put her in a can
and put a label on it
and sold her at the market
where she sat on a high shelf
for a very long time.
The Underdog
I have wheels, man
wheels and a great sense of humor
When she smiles I get happy
not of course in my direction
She needs a special person
someone to tell her
that she is not ugly
someone to erase her fears
She is looking for a person
good looking, straight teeth
for kisses and fun dates
who she will spend long evenings with
She does not want me
though I wonder about her laughter
I have come to understand
her heart's omission
She'll never see the tears
but he might cry in front of her
cry and ask her
why no one seems to care
I hope she find someone so true
and I know that can't ever be so
'cause she has locked away her heart
for safekeeping
As It Was Whispered
Where is she now?
Perhaps you cannot see
all her rare qualities,
now buried in sand
The Jay takes the worm
just like the thirsty
take cool water
and just like the words of this poem
vanish in the mists
My love is a flag
for the winner to capture,
snatched and carried far...
can you imagine?
The sun is a democrat
who takes no bribes...
light surrounds us all
which explains perfectly
why I am always in shadow