(for Dónall) And Why Not? / To The Ends Of The Earth / Island At The End Of The Earth Poem by Janice Windle

These poems were written after I met Dónall and we spent days and nights together for the whole of August, getting closer and more loving all the time. Now we've had to go back to work, live separately in the week, and it's been a wrench to say the least. Dónall's response to the situation follows my desperate attempt at a solution to the problem:
.....................................................................................................................

I have a plan.
Why should I not lie forever
in the circle of your arms?
Leave the world’s stream?

Can’t we lie here forever?
While outside the window
the world wheels round,
daylight dawns and fades,

sunlight flashes up and dies in season,
rain falls softly or storms,
trees rock and fall in gales,
lawns are mowed

and neighbours’ children play
then leave them aging
and in fear of loneliness.

This is my plan:
(our needs are few.)

We shall condense our world
to fit this marriage bed;
lay in a store of luxuries
(they’re free) :

the touch of skin on skin;
exchanges of loving words;
laughter and stories; passion;
all heaped in easy reach.

And we shall lie in bed,
Resisting siege.

(by Janice)
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Dónall wrote this lovely piece:

'To the Ends of the Earth'

After our first
kiss

we spend
the next month

in bed

leaving only to wee
or make a cup of tea

unwilling
unable

to leave the haven
of the Heaven

of each other’s
embrace

forgetting why it is that
humans wear clothes?

Existing only on endless
tin after tin after tin of assorted soups

living a life under siege
until the rations ran out.

Our bed
a raft

Love...
setting us adrift

on an endless ocean
of Time & timelessness

day & night
ceasing to exist

hours & minutes
vanishing

into an ether
of tenderness

lost
in each other’s arms

(not even returning mobile telephone calls...ever!)

Love laughing
at us floating

under a hot sun
of sex

shipwrecked us
almost delirious

(reluctant to be rescued)

carried by cuddles
& conversations

laughter & lust
trust & devotion

to the ends of the earth

the ends of
the earth

ends

of

the

earth.

(By Dónal Demsey)

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And this tanka was my answer:

The Island at the Ends of the Earth:

Contented castaways,
our island sustains us
with coconut kisses...

We do not hoist a flag, nor
seek escape from passing ships.

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Sadly, we are back in the mainstream again now, but we're looking forward to Christmas!