In happy disarray

Confused

There was a time when I was not in love –
and thrilled quite carelessly with every man:
Delighting in all the pleasure they gave
between pauses, sighs, and whispers of passion
with anticipation in taxicabs
in corridors of underground stations
at street corners and pavements ere parting
in dark passages off the beaten track,
in the comfort of old film theatres,
along the Thames or in a forest glade.
Since you appeared I’ve been in disarray
from that night when we lingered and languored;
yours the kisses I now ache for, and count
the spans of time until we meet again.

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This fragrant memory of my lover lingers

Reworked, from an old poem once inspired originally by a lover now long gone.  The present one left his lingering trace when he stayed over one night midweek.

Softly roused, I lie wrapped in the linen
the same one last night with the crisp fragrance
until we lay on it and in between;
I revel in its crumpled redolence –
a memory of our urgent embrace
lays waste my chaste plans to quietly sleep
Distracted by your lingering musky trace
I slip, dream-filled into moist fleshfolds deep.
Savouring a piquant bouquet, erotic
invoking swells and ebbing, rhythmic
The images of our evening’s frolic
in sharp relief against my mind’s optic
I draw in, like a drug this aroma
It calls up your sensual persona.

Julius and Amy

The 3rd date

An afternoon discovering treasures at the Soane Museum – and I was punctual for our meeting this time.  There wasn’t a queue and very few visitors.  So we could linger and take our time over the exhibits which interested us – the Rake’s progress, the Canalettos, an exhibition of Shakespeare, this being the fourth centenary of his death.  John Soane himself had been an ardent fan of the Bard and so there was plenty in the museum reflecting this.  The highlight of the tour was the basement, but alas the sarcophagus was being cleaned and shrouded in ply.  I promised to return next month when it should be displayed again – he tells me it is his favourite piece.  I was hugely taken with the skylights and staircases.   The enthusiasm shown by some of the volunteers eager to share their knowledge of the pieces was infectious and added to the quiet splendour of the place.

Later we walked around Lincoln’s Inn fields – a typical garden square with mature London plains and maples, pausing for a drink at the cafe as it was a hot summer’s day.  We sat in the shade and eventually walked down to the India Club at the Strand for dinner and a beer before heading on to the theatre – an Alan Ayckbourn farce which didn’t disappoint although I thought it was rather dated.  I didn’t recognise any of the actors but he had seen three of them on TV before.

We took the tube back to his and there I discovered that he too has a collection – mainly of fantasy and science fiction reading material, some DVDs, CDs and pictures of ethereal as well as corporeal female forms, some of whom were in stylistic pose.  We talked frankly again (he was willing to satisfy my curiosity over his two other current lovers) and even at this second coupling we have become more familiar with each other’s bodies.  He put on some music and we kissed and enjoyed intimate moments to Leonard Cohen, Pete Atkin and even Serge Gainsbourg.  I laughed at the cheesiness of engaging in intimacy to the sexy French crooner.  When we did fall asleep, it must have been four in the morning.

During coffee in bed at around ten he told me how much he enjoyed seeing me at ease in his bed,  waking up with me and that I was the first person he had ever met who liked morning sex.  It was a very indulgent Sunday morning, both of us sharing a reluctance to do anything apart from kissing and touching each other.

I may have hinted to him in a brief moment of abandon that I could see myself falling in love quite easily with him – he has been such an intuitive and tender lover.   His response, in as gentle a manner as possible was that I may have a long wait before I heard him say those three little words.  It sounds like a challenge to me!  And yet, … and yet.  Whilst I am excited at this I am also trepidatious about our possible mismatch – his advanced years, intellect and experience compared to my relative youth and tendency to the frivolous.  He allows me to tease him – for now because he appears enamoured of me.  But when my novelty value wears off … and

when he finds someone shiny to adore

will my heart survive that break once more?

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the dance of back and forth

I back away, one, two, in measured steps
My eyes hold you there, safer from afar
We can only smile and don’t go over
that awkward ground, where this fragile tendresse
fell to pieces that night. We skirt the shards
of broken hope slowly and carefully
Drawing ever widening ellipses
until I cannot see you anymore.

But you stride forward on a bloody trail
And sweep aside protestation, to hold
my face between your palms with your dark gaze
I am won over by this act so bold
Meet your lips with mine, my body ablaze
Eager to drink from your accursèd grail

Goodbye

I back away, one, two, in measured steps
My eyes hold you there, safer from afar
We can only smile and don’t go over
that awkward ground, where this fragile tendresse
fell to pieces that night. We skirt the shards
of broken glass slowly and carefully
Drawing ever widening ellipses
until I cannot see  you anymore