Thursday, February 14, 2008

Notebook Idea - 777 - Day 3

Here's the 3rd prompt out of the seven. Write for 7 minutes.

February 14th: what lies beneath love

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

what lies beneath love

a deep pool
a name written in ink
a feather
caught in mid air
an echo repeating itself
over and over again

breathlessness
tears
a drawerfull of keys
silence
and laughter

a door that opens
both ways
the tick of a clock
and not knowing
not ever really knowing

Mary Rose said...

February 14. What lies beneath love.

It’s buried far too deeply
than I have strength to dig.
You’d find too many layers,
loss teaches this.

The word sums up one aspect,
the first that comes to mind,
the greatest of all.
St. Valentine’s Day
exploits it to the full through card shops.
Where would the saint be
without their fervent commercialism?
I walk among this plethora
with eyes averted now.

Yet I need not dig deeply
to find love still in plenty,
for my children, returned
I know in equal measure,
grandchildren too.

Friends share in this rich pattern,
part of the purpose of living.
While near the surface yet deep within me
his memory is ever green as the trees he planted,
the home he helped to create.

Love is a good word
the language all the richer for it
as we are when we receive or use it.

Sharra said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Sharra said...

Valentines

In return for the sickly teddy
and card swarming with pink hearts,
he presents anticipation
it’s something special he says.
She spends all day guessing
dinner, flowers, sex
a proposal?

He stares at half-dead roses
on the petrol station forecourt
knowing she’ll never believe
they’re something special.
Eyeing up the lingerie
in the shop window is useless
when he can’t remember her size.
All his workmates offer up
is beer and a curry, with candlelight
plus jokes about castration
when she guesses.

A search on valentinehelp.com
sends him scuttling to McDonalds
snapping with his phone.
Twenty minutes later he emerges
from Tesco’s, scribbles on the back
of a photo and shoves it into
an envelope labelled SWALK.

When she sees the picture of yellow
plastic chairs and reads
the first place we kissed, she knows
he’s the one.