The Hands of the World are Crashing Together

Who’s to say when love dies?
Or if it ever does?
I don’t think you can ever really
count on yourself
to stay your hand or your heart.

Come and sit with me,
these chairs are high backed
and beautifully packed,
and I will tell you all the
colours of my heart
and the hate in my soul
and the love in my breast.
But if she crossed the room
I can’t say I wouldn’t follow her
with my eyes
or that I wouldn’t be trying not to.

Love simmers like a forgotten kettle
and every joyous once in a while
it boils over
but the once lit flame stays alight
through all the dark days
and cold nights of your life.

9 comments

  1. krkbaker · December 10, 2008

    Applauding. I like the lines “hate in my soul, love in my breast, and love simmers like a forgotten kettle”

  2. poeticgrin · December 10, 2008

    “Love simmers like a forgotten kettle” – great line – good images – I enjoyed!

  3. zaphodfreek · December 10, 2008

    Thank you.

  4. secretagentartist · December 12, 2008

    you’re stuff really reminds me of Raymond Carvers poetry, really liking it. The piece on seeing the girl on the bus is great too – carver/bukowski! Lydia

  5. secretagentartist · December 12, 2008

    you’re stuff really reminds me of Raymond Carvers poetry, really liking it. The piece on seeing the girl on the bus is great too – carver/bukowski! Lydia

  6. zaphodfreek · December 12, 2008

    Thanks!
    I’ve not heard of this Raymond Carver. I shall look him up.

  7. kim · December 18, 2008

    Hey, I can’t find you on the rate my poetry blog. No wait, I think I found you. Never mind. Giving you a rating. Of course its a zero. 🙂
    Kidding.
    Like the new site. Love the cat. Eeeeeeeery.

  8. zaphodfreek · December 19, 2008

    Ah cheers Kim.
    I don’t really know what that thing’s about
    but, sure, it can’t hurt.

    Cat’s are the business.

  9. krkbaker · December 24, 2008

    Merry Christmas.
    kim

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