The love poems
in my note book
creep from page
(at night) to page
no longer beholden
to me.
They visit
each other
have secret
love affairs
(well, they are love poems...after all)
Poems elope
let down a rope
of words
escape the confines
of their particular page
being of one mind
longing to be individual.
Poems 6 & 9
emigrate to page 69
and seem to be
enjoying themselves.
They search & search
for a voice
to say them.
In the morning
bleary eyed & looking
a little the worse for wear
they sneak shyly
slyly back
tip-toeing to their proper places
yawning
& just about
make it
back into their appointed positions
as I turn to...
see them
as if nothing
had happened.
*******
“I wonder what love poems get up to at night
between the covers of a book? ”
Onelia
I am afraid I blatantly stole this from a passing comment by Onelia which greatly amused me. I pleaded with her to turn it into a poem as it was such a novel idea but alas...& so I was forced to write it myself which is a pity because she would have done it so much better than I.
I hope she will still write it as it was after all her idea & I only stole it!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem