Cantabria

Beauty, she lies, all gentle curves,

And soft, smooth contours,

Radiant and glowing in the warm Spanish sun.

The rounds of her mounts takes my breath away,

And the lush forest waits invitingly below.

The blue of her eyes is in the endless sea,

Surrounded by the rich browns of sun kissed skin,

The warmth of her skin reflected in a loving carefree attitude,

Which only enhances her physical beauty,

Here I feel at home,

Slowly traversing her hills and valleys,

Oh Cantabria, I’m glad I’m here with thee.

I wrote this poem on 21/04/2011 while on a bus trip through Cantabria, a province of Spain, on the way to meet a now ex-girlfriend who was working in Donostia/San Sebastian in the Basque Country/Spain.

I was in love at the time and excited to see her after a couple of months working in Germany; the beautiful northern Spanish countryside made me think of her…

Sexual unity?

We’ve all been out there,
Running the rat race,
Not realising,
We all got a slap in the face.

We’re all in there,
Chasing the girl,
And all that's happening is,
We’re being taken for a twirl.

Because all around this world,
This wide, wide world,
There’s a boy,
There’s a girl.

She’s singing a sweet song,
He’s drooling,
She’s stringing him along, 

He's fooling.

He buys her a drink,
And is starting to think
He’s in with a grin,
He’s in to win!

Is she too thin?
No, he can’t wait to begin,
Begin what? Tonight,
There’ll be no begin-ning,

Both are trying to fill,
The gaping hole inside,
Inside comes outside,
Both know they’re being lied, to.
 

But where they’re looking,
They’re not going to find,
The thing to set at rest,
Their mind.

Where was love lost,
Along the way?
A long way, back?
To far to track?

Because in a culture,
That’s all about sex,
What comes nex-t?
Thousands of people all vexed?

Where did we lose,
Those religious values,
That see sex and love,
To be cherished?

But they perished,
Not that I wish to return,
Or turn, back time,
It’s impossible and not required.

Rather to realise there’s a hole,
That can only be filled by love,
And friends and community,
Not in simple sexual unity.

I started thinking through this piece on the way home from a night out partying in NZ in early 2012, observing and listening to the other passengers on the bus. 

I finished it off as a stream-of-consciousness spoken-word piece for the dVersePoets prompt on the fractured nature of the modern world, in which Western culture is, I think, losing sight of what is important while we all chase personal pleasure.

What do you, about both the poem (which needs to be read out loud in spoken word style) and the subject it tackles?

When it becomes just about sex then sexual unity gains immunity, from love. It stops being an affair of the heart, and that apart it can only lead to falling apart, for a start. It becomes an art, the art of seduction, in all a reduction of a human relationship, the Intro-duction of self-satisfying, selfish self-gratification which leads to the striation of society.

Tuscan romance

 Tuscan romance

The spring sun is shining, the birds are a’flight,

As we weave our way through the Florentine light.

Filtered by green trees on the side of the road,

Bordered by clear rivers which for centuries have flowed,

We wind our way into the clear mountain air,

With our trusty Vespa to take us there.

Our destination unknown, but we know what awaits,

For in a Tuscan romance, good food and laughter's our fate.

I wrote this poem in mid-2011 while staying in Italy with my then girlfriend, and Italian.

Her family had a holiday house in the seaside town of Viareggio  in Tuscany and one beautiful day we had taken a drive up into the stunning hills and mountains that rise up in the hinterland. We visited a beautiful old church up on a hill surrounded by vineyards, had a delicious lunch and extremely flavourful Chianti (a local red wine) at a small family run restaurant that looked out over the valley. 

What a day in bella Italia!

Have you had any similar traveling experiences that inspired poems? Feel free to post them here if you have.

Why work?

They say that work defines you,

But is that ok by you?

It wasn't ok by me,

Until I thought, maybe it should be.

Buddhists see work as an outlet,

For creativity, innovation, effort.

A rewarding experience that makes life,

Whole, allows you to keep a family and wife.

They say 'If you do a job you love,

You'll never work another day'.

But could this true I wondered?

As all around me advertising thundered.

'You need to work to be able to consume!'

The latest car, house or experience,

An iPod, iPhone, iPad, it all,

But what if, I, don't want to?

What if I want to work not for money,

But for the love of using my skills.

I don't work to kill, myself or others,

I work to bring life, end strife, help mothers.

Everyday I'm blessed to wake,

Because I'm inspired to go to work.

I'm inspired to inspire, and light a fire,

And never work another day, until I retire.

I wrote this poem for the dVerse Poets pub poetics challenge or writing a poem around the theme of work (as you may have guessed!)

I made a decision a number of years ago to never work for money, but rather to always work for something I love and believe in. This has led to work for a number of not-for-profits, environmental/sustainability organisations and now the child focused humanitarian organisation World Vision.

I love it.

I often arrive at work and suddenly think about how lucky I am to be paid to do what I love, and to help others at the same time, whether (hopefully) inspiring youth in New Zealand to be all that they can be, or raising money for our community development work in the Third World.

This poem is written as a spoken word piece so read it out loud and please let me know what you think!

Journey into a forbidden relationship - Part 4

The longest 20 minutes of my life,

As I'm torn to shreds with internal strife.

I thought she was gone and she's suddenly back,

Not only that but it's all an attack.

Now that i can handle if it's justified,

But she's no idea and I'm still crucified!

She accuses me of gross immaturity,

And to top it all off thinks she knows me,

When she's got no idea what I feel,

Because I tried to support her and let her heal.

This was the final poem I wrote about this relationship which was developing with a friend who was already with someone. 

She had misunderstood something I said through a text, where it is so easy to do so, and written a pretty stern and disappointed message. I knew she was driving home and had to wait 20 minutes before I could call her to clear it up.

We sorted out that issue then a few days later it  was better we didn't see each other or keep in touch to much as it was just making things difficult and complicated.

The photo is a bit extreme but almost represents how I was feeling at that point. It is from the 1960s Spartacus movie.

Any thoughts?

 

Journey into a forbidden relationship - Part 3

One  reason I like you is I write again.
Every time I pick up a pen,
In my mind words do flow,
As our love continue to grow.

Now please excuse the flowery word,
Even to me it sounds absurd.
But love can mean many things,
Not only the moment when cupid stings.

And I cannot deny what I feel,
These feelings simply must be real.
For they really will not go away,
No matter what we do or say.

I got inspired to write this third poem on 7 May. I was trying to think through why I liked the friend I had growing feelings for. As mentioned before she already had a boy friend and as such the relationship couldn't go anywhere.

So far I've have written one more poem about the relationship as time went on and I'll upload it next week.

 

Continue to join me through the poetic journey through the emotions of love.  

 

What do you think so far, can you relate? Have you been in the same position?

Journey into a forbidden relationship - Part 2

Warmth and passion, or destruction?

I see her everywhere I go,

She is in everything I do,

She is my motivation, she is my frustration.

Her beauty stops my breath,

And her wit brightens my day,

She is my awe, she is my internal war.

I live for our conversations,

And follow wise advice.

She is my guide, she wavers with the tide.

I respect her for her values,

From that which I can glean.

She is my match, she is fire's thatch.

I enjoy all time spent with her,

In many a varied way,

She drives me round the bend, she is my friend.

I wrote this piece shortly after Part 1, while continuing to deal with a relationship that was developing with a friend, but which could never work because she already had a boy friend she loved.

Again, I have written other poems as the relationship developed and will continue to upload them in chronological order. 

Continue to join me through the poetic journey through the emotions of love. 

Journey into a forbidden relationship - Part 1

I walk through this field of fallen dreams,

And consider the wisdom contained in reams,

Of experience, all from my life,

Earned through pain and through strife.

I've a fair idea where this path will go,

But I don't stop and nor do I slow,

In one way I like the pain,

For suddenly I'm writing again.

I remind myself who I could win,

But how could that happen without bowing to sin?

And now the time is not right,

My side of the scale is too light.

So I must my emotions control,

If I'm not to pay Cupid's toll.

I wrote this piece in the park pictured above on 03/05/12 while I was trying to deal with a relationship that was developing with a friend, but which could never work because she already had a boy friend she loved.

In regards to the photo the intriguing 'ruins' are in Western Park, Ponsonby, Auckland, NZ, and are artwork by John Radford called 'The Tip. The photo is from Auckland Daily Photo blog.

I have written other poems as the relationship developed and will upload them in chronological order. A poetic journey through the emotions of love.  

I have uploaded this poem for the dVerse Poets digital pub open link night because it is a piece that is current to me at the moment, the experience got me writing again and I think the series could make interesting reading.

My Love is not the most beautiful

A week in and the honeymoon glow has begun to fade,

So goes the blindness of new love, reality I see again.

Not the angel I saw before, a different judgement I’ve now made.

My Love is not the most beautiful, although she’s far from plain.

She cares more for others than her own self,

But there are others just as kind.

She’s got no great recognised intellectual wealth,

Though her nation’s produced many a great mind.

My Love’s adventurousness gained my adoration,

But, many too have traveled and made the world their home.

Her sense of justice and morality fuel my admiration,

However in this noble field she again is not alone.

But let me stress with the words of a master,

“And yet I think my love as rare”,

As rare, more real, with a depth vaster,

Than “any she belied with false compare.”

I finished this poem on 4 May 2010. It was obviously inspired by Shakespeare's Sonnet 130, "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun", which mocks the conventions of the showy and flowery courtly sonnets in its realistic portrayal of his mistress.

I attempted to do the same writing about my girlfriend at the time.

What do you think of this? Is the role of a poem to exaggerate reality or accurately describe it or both?

Shakespeare's Sonnet 130

Read by Alan Rickman

A short poem after a breakup in 2007:

Nothing left to say

I feel like I should talk to her,

But I’ve nothing left to say.

Two paths that were a joined,

Each went a separate way.

I am madly in love, and I don’t even know her name

I am madly in love and I don’t even know her name,

All I can say is life will never be the same.

Joy is coursing from me in an un-ending stream,

And all I can do is scream, scream, SCREAM!

I look up at the stunning star studded sky,

And know that right now I’d be happy to die.

For I’m experiencing one of life's greatest gifts,

It really doesn’t get much better than this.

The staggering sunrise of a dawning day,

The birth of your child, or own wedding, say?

I’m drunk with elation and possibilities a’plenty,

Knowing that right now life really means for me,

To simply live, let the future bring what may,

Throw caution to the wind and embrace this way.

For even if it fails and cupid crashes in a heap,

These memories, sweet memories forever I’ll keep.

I wrote this poem in one 15 minute sitting (with most of it constructed while riding home) on 15 April 2010 after meeting one of my ex-girlfriends. It's an attempt to capture the passion and sheer madness of falling in love, and it seems relevant to me again.

Because of this it uses a simple  rhyming structure. What do you think of this, could it be changed or tightened to improve the poem?

The real question it's asking is: "is there any better feeling than this?"

What are your experiences of falling in love?

Can you relate to this poem?

The beautiful image of the dancer is an oil painting called "The passion of dance" by Drew Jacoby

A second poem on love:

Rapt in the soft retreat, my anxious breast

Pants still for something unpossessed;

Whence springs this sudden hope, this warm desire?

To what enjoyment would my soul aspire?

‘Tis love! extends my wishes and my care

Eden was tasteless ‘till an Eve was there.

Benjamin Church

Love as Charity (1 Corinthians 13)

Another poem by British guest Michael Uriel who looks set to be a reoccurring contributor:

I used to think love was where it’s at,
And wonder why it stayed at just that.

Love at a distance no touching the misfit,
But with Jesus’ example that just didn’t sit.

Then I was told a true piece of gold,
The Bible’d said something else in translations of old.

One of the meanings of ‘love’ was also ‘charity’,
I thought more and this made sense to me.

Charity demands action and care for the poor,
It’s greater than a feeling of that be sure.

So much more than simple empathy,
An activity really charity should be.

A hug and a hand for the homeless,
A loaf of bread for the breadless.

A cloak for the cloakless,
For charity can do no less.

For not simple love but deeper charity,
Is now at the core of what drives me.

Michael Uriel: I wrote this piece in an attempt to understand a conversation with a friend where he explained that the word 'Love' is used in English translations of the Bible had numerous different translations in the original Hebrew and Greek.

In early Greek for example there were four words that are all translated as 'Love': agápe, éros, philía, and storgē, each with a slight different meaning.

What I worry is that in the modern translations we have lost this depth of meaning, and all to often lost the action that must be associated with true Love. You cannot, for example, truly Love someone in need without feeling empathy (not sympathy) and if possible trying to do something to help.

I subtitled this piece 1 Corinthians 13 because I think this is one of the best verses in the Bible at explaining what true Love should look like.

What are your thoughts? Am I way off the mark?