I was so happy

I was so happy
seeing you again
seeing you again
that the image
now haunts my brain
like a watermark
or the acidic stain
left by an accidental spill
of the choicest wine.

In time
the image
may fade
but I wouldn't count on it;
your life
your life
is in that image
and everything that you were
or ever will be
to me
is there
for me to see
on the other side of my eyelids
whenever I close my eyes.

c Kenneth Rowley 2013

Ms Sweetness

She was like the smell of grass, sweetened by a shower; like the sight of lightning striking distant hills; like the poetry of birdsong in the morning's half-light. Her form floated on the breeze, glistened on the dew, glamoured the old into the new. And I loved her, I loved her; I still do. Time... Time... Time... The only real is what we feel. The only lotion, emotion. Emotion can hurt, emotion can heal. She was the sweetness after rain, the healing after pain. With the memories come the feelings: again and again and again.

© Kenneth Rowley 2013

the bottom line

the bottom line

She'd washed her panties,
hung them out to dry;
he was looking at them.
'Male & female energies
need each other,' he said.
'Yes,' she agreed, following his gaze,
'that's the bottom line.'

© Kenneth Rowley 2012

morning moaning

morning moaning

I was awoken this morning
by a low moaning;
it was coming from the bathroom.

My toothbrush was crying
because it was lonely
without your toothbrush beside it.

Naked

My lips are naked
without yours to cover them;
my bones like ice
without your fire to warm them,
my soul shabby and shapeless
in the wardrobe of these days.

But in the places where your tongue
danced and played,
memories still remain;
my heart dresses itself in those memories
again and again and again.

posted from Bloggeroid

waiting for the bell to ring

waiting for the bell to ring

When I was at school,
sitting in class,
it always seemed to me
that real life must be happening elsewhere,
somewhere, anywhere
outside the classroom,
always beyond the school.

Somedays, I gazed
through the classroom windows,
eyes glazed,
unfocused, distracted.

I was young and impatient,
lusting for life,
always waiting for the bell to ring.

It’s a strange thing,
but leaving school
taught me no new lessons.
I’m older,
but hardly any wiser:
I got the life I longed for,
wanted,
was impatient to begin.

I still sit and gaze
through windows.

Don’t laugh, but
I’m still waiting for the bell to ring.

Mr. Ken, feat. Ms. T

Mr. Ken, feat. Ms. T

You heard I was tinkering
with a girl
in the small hours of Saturday morning
down in Manzini?
Yes, the club was Tinkers,
but the verb is dancing.

Oh, you didn’t know
that I could dance?
Well, dancing is like loving−
it just needs the right partner;
hips don’t lie.

But I love the way you lie.

Soft and Delicate Thunder

soft and delicate thunder

I awoke this morning with desire
to find you there,
to stroke your skin
and smell your hair,
to whisper words as yet unheard
and breathe you deeply in:
to embrace you in a soft and delicate shade of thunder.

You didn't know--
how could you know?
that I was awake
and thinking of you;
but where you were
you stirred
and turned in your sleep
as if something special had occurred
in the journey of your dream, deep
and moving with the soft and delicate longing of thunder.

For who you are
is who I am
and where you are
is where I've been
for all we know
and all we dream
drops from the sky
and swirls with the wind
of our soft and delicate world of thunder.