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What Your Love Means To Me

The Poet asks of The Maker of All
Without expecting an answer to come
Which is the secret of the Universe
Where most wish to control what comes to them
And thereby limit possibilities.
So simple a secret it's simply missed
But does not involve not asking questions
Though best said first's 'No need to answer this.'
'Give me a kiss, you're no woman if you don't.' -
Fails to win hearts where not expecting can.
Asking open ended questions works best
And few believe this secret - few believe -
The non-believed secret of the Universe
Allowing unlimited things unexpected.

Let's see where the Poet makes use of this secret of the Universe in his Poetry -
grand manipulation you say? No! - Love at work!


If you just gave me some small island dry
Somewhere in some deadly sea I'd be pleased
For there in the black sands I'd draw or die
And use white shells to fashion form that teased
The need of me for your beauty, your balm
But you have given kingdoms beyond Earth
Where hearts are strong and minds are clear and calm,
Where rose petals wilt only fraction's worth -
Seconds, to prove beauty's wealth and sweet power.
Here in the stars I make patterns with words,
Not dry, small nor unseen, island locked - they tower!
Higher than strong men climb or fly swift birds.
You are Love, you are Beauty, your heart's mine.
Any wilt is for seconds Rose divine.

'Some small dry island' the Poet would be happy with and receives 'kingdoms beyond earth'!


I want to use a word that the world hates;
Poets avoid; teachers teach avoidance too -
Surely love poetry high laziness rates.
Search for prettier words, give her her due -
The word is over worked, say what you mean
But it says how I feel, I'll say it once.
To others a thousand meanings there may seem -
To me it says well how I feel - no dunce
In the use of words of love for my love.
She draws words out of me wonderfully well.
Let me say my word - let teachers laugh above.
I've searched for metaphors and hereby tell
My love makes me feel NICE - the feeling's wide,
Large, deep - it's just ---- the poor word has now died.

Here the Poet doesn't wish to use the words of the great love poets and expect the magic they could bring - just use the word 'nice.' The result? 'The poor word has died'
From over use? No! Now no Poet can use it with such wonderful meaning. The word has achieved its most beautiful expression and having served all its useful purposes in language, can die. 'Poor?' No, a glorious death!


My fruit should not upon your smiles depend
Till fully ripe when swelling's perfected
For love laid asleep would less painfully end
Where these days love fires birth's fatal past bed.
Though my eyelids are heavy full of night
Free from flesh heightens your smiles' valued swell.
Avoid the woes of hopeless lovers' plight
Could I if I guard against your smiles well?
Foolish talk, my fruit thrives on all your smiles -
Best dwell not on endings, measure good things.
I've been freed from past woes, destroyed past files;
Now fruit's ripened by your smile that love brings.
I escape the slippery place of failure
Brightened by your smile which gold can't measure.

Disappointment can come from early expectations but is the Poet setting himself up for disappointment once his fruit is fully ripened? He humorously suggests he should hide from his love's smiles that ripen. It is open ended to where the Poet will finish up so brightened by her smile.


I live as though this is my last day's breath,
To waste not time and think on things with worth.
When I'm gone fruitless will be after death?
No! but weak I'll be without views of earth
To watch you walk and laugh, look up at me.
Let me not be blind to your thoughts of love -
Light blue candles and blue shooting stars see.
Talk to owls and they will wink from above.
So these are my thoughts as though breath is short
That from long way off there still be love's sign.
Ask the child what's love, poetry I'll report.
The picked red rose petals' fall, note last one's mine.
As daily new ways my love I show dear
Expect new poetry of love to appear.

The Poet makes demands but not earthly demands - but is it clever manipulation to get his love to accept quickly full union before he passes away? The Poet's secret intent can be rejected without anyone being hurt. The answer to his sonnet has enormous possibilities.


You're not manly and I'm not womanly
Yet when men speak with poetry, depth there's none
On love, unless he thinks less like man's key;
Woman needs man more than he her heart won
So look for your deep needs should this poet?
Seen not through men's eyes but yours a woman?
Not for gain but love manly men forget?
Or never even close their eyes as man? -
And see less narrow views, less dull logic?
Be less man flawed and praise a woman's talents? -
Fields where men fail to see women's magic? -
Would this be deeper love? - or seek manly tents?
You're not manly and I'm not womanly
And deepest love drops manly poetry.

There are hidden expectations here of his love and through a barrage of questions with loaded answers triggered she is led to forget all men who are not like the Poet. There is pressure - the pressure of love - but no compulsion - no punishing consequences.


Dear Red Rose for long hours nosing in vain
As though sweet flowers need propping up with scent
But wholesome all rounded beauty lacks pain
And scent's not bred out for gain the intent
So dear Red Rose as imitations nose
Bursting into tears, imagine it's wild
Not tampered with by man - Nature's Red Rose
And hopes from fears build in my mind in child.
Now my tears like dew catch the sun's warm look
And loved Red Rose, dead thoughts live nosing you -
Better, gentler poet, better lover took
Your beauty, your essence from flowers to view.
Dear Red Rose for long hours nosing in vain
Now in Nature I'm lonely without pain.

When we are placed on a guilt trip there is manipulation of a high order and it is not love working, rather self interest. The Poet does say he is lonely but he is saying his love is like the wild rose which has both beauty and scent which takes away the pain of loneliness.
He is cunning? No! - he is in love!


Never let me, never let me lose this
Gifted feeling greater than a kingship
Mightier than the Amazon's ocean kiss;
Show all your petals, let scent pass me slip,
Even let me brush leaves - never let me,
Never let me drink the nectar and lose
Gifted feelings of one with energy;
Torment me with such loss of power to choose
And build me, build me higher than the sky.
Never let me, never let me lose faith
That I can move mountains, drain rivers dry;
Sigh in my ear, whisper, but make the bit chafe.
Never let me, never let me until
All earth worthy things you've seen me fulfil.


With an ice pack on my back I'm thriving -
And know images of you pleasure me.
Alive again womanhood makes me sing
And praises to your Maker's my poetry.
Oh to kiss tonight, to touch the hidden
I would agree to anything, almost.
Lock me in a cage and when I'm bidden
Perform so your sweet freedom pays no cost
And free pleasure is yours, secondly mine
But ask, take me out only when you must
So you never tire, never ever find
I'm not surprised - then the cage will I trust.
Oh leave me not too long for my control
Grows less with length, your caged man Baby Doll.


The grim knight lay still on his weathered chair
Much weakened by battles, some lost, some won -
Missed the moon outside in his silver hair
Yet pictured loved sights that poetry would stun.
Backwards and forwards his mind beckoned him
And footsteps of his loved one turned his head
And her whispers were more than echoes thin;
The knight appeared to wake, and smiles instead
Took over the grimness old wounds dragged 'round
And her beauty healed all his aches and pains.
The charms of past days restored the knight sound
Who opened the blinds for silver moon gains.
Her sweet beauty and love like starlight gleams
Thereby the knight gives out silver moon beams.


My bad back's getting better, head's clearing -
Is sickness body's way of resting thought?
Urges are returning, health is climbing,
Words I can write but still for the pain take port.
It's now you could win all my heart always
For now I'm weak and wish you by my side -
Nothing can I do but watch and think plays
When legs and back and brain can as one ride.
With smiles and winks and kind words I would fall
Further in love than when I'm well seems true
So for future action, love that's total
Now's the moment, now's the time to win through.
I'm at my weakest and if you want me
Make out you haven't read this and act promptly.


If women were men, of many they'd think
Yet of many they think it's true it seems
And not to know, think such thoughts black as ink
Was my plight and learning truth blew my dreams.
Seeing with my eyes, hearing with my ears
For myself, not fed with knowledge of girls -
It takes the sadness out when sadness nears
And heard's your heart-beat beat as love's blood swirls
Knowing every beat I've not earned so much
As my love, my heart beat's murmured poems long.
That your heart might be for just me to touch
Is happiness of heart and nothing halts song.
If your heart found heart-song with another
Glad not sad I'd be you'd found dead clover!


Let's make out I'm your little boy my dear
Where you've mothers'-say on the man I'll be.
I want a father who'll father me near;
Would you listen to me, listen to me?
Now I am the poet who writes from afar,
The one whom you love but dare keep distance -
Would you want your little boy contact bar,
Be like me, have a wonderful love chance,
Have love that makes him walk tall among men,
Have life fulfilment, find his place on Earth?
Now I'm your little boy pleading again.
Listen to me, oh one who gave birth
Mothers who are happy have boys best served -
Try out the warm Poet's arms - be not reserved.

By David A. Doolan

© 2019 David A. Doolan (All rights reserved)


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