Perpetual Emotion

These four sets, combination of the two souls, meeting one,

Is where I plot and pose, my heart strung into motion:

Mirage in tweed, grown to know the strong Maria in stone,

In spite of the tension, there it is: perpetual emotion.


What details I can pick up; yet what is it that I do receive?

Transmission blocked by another mane of ditzying curls,

Leaving the crossed-out print of one who will deceive,

And images of isolated courtship, the not-mentionable in whirls.


Hollywoodians can show love in actions; an Oxonian in equations,

But what an Oxford Man I have known! Amidst actions-

Trials and turbulence of truth falsified always by persuasions-

No Bronzes for that one who must need to refuse protections;


If performance is denied, then daily I am getting better,

Intensity is not asked, simply writing my blood in love.

My lips for arid kisses can be sent silent in the letter;

In poetry alone can the read be shifted by the reader’s touch.

The End

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