Submissions by lencos

Take it slowly:
loving
listening
learning
living
too fast and it’s gone

Take it slowly:
prolong every knowing,
don’t hurry the growing,
the seeds you are sowing
need time to be strong.

Take it slowly:
loving
listening
learning
living
too fast and it’s gone

Take it slowly:
let moments be hours,
let hours be days.
Live precious times slowly, not throw them away;
love taken slowly is love that will stay.

loving
listening
learning
living
too fast and
you’re gone.

Is it in the morning
that I love my love
with the best love?

I awake beside her
feel her body’s warmth
her beating heart

my first awareness of the day
is of her

She is the beginning of another day
of love.

Or is it in the evening
when I bask in the warmth
of a whole day of her love

love that will sustain me
through the night
until my first awareness of the new day tomorrow?

Sleep, the kind healer of my soul,
forgiver of the day’s defects,
who banishes anxiety that stole
my peace of mind, my hope, my self-respect;
who brings oblivion to a troubled mind
for welcome hours until a better dawn
brings new perspectives, leaving fears behind,
and darkness, real and feared are gone.
Sleep is a lover who holds, caresses, cares,
embracing joy or doubt, smiles or tears,
who guards the loved one, protects with prayers
for happier tomorrows; and stays till day appears.
Welcome sleep my love, she heals, restores, makes strong;...

Without a word you open to me and enfold
And I can do no other than merge with you
And we become one as we hold
So tightly that yes we are one not two;
And I reach, reach so deeply inside,
Your limbs, your mouth, your being
Engulf me as again and again I slide
Into your depths. We are fleeing
To that glorious paradise, that warm sea
Where the being that we are
Deliciously drowns in our love’s ecstasy.

Mystery

That we came together was impossible to predict - a mystery.
How it was to develop was something of which we had no inkling.
Another day we might not have met at all.
Nevertheless we met – we chatted about things, about poetry,
knowing at first little about each other’s pechant for writing,
yet soon realising that we had this in common.
Oh yes, I was flattered by her compliments when she read my sonnets -
up until then I had thought them amateurish and crude;
she praised them highly – and I blushed.
(When did we begin to edge towards...