A series of four poems about love. The first is a Villanelle and the last a Sonnet which is a form I do not usually write in. The poems are read by Holly Darville and the music composed and played by Vijay Jagtap on Sitar. Voice Portraits by Giovanna Iorio. The video created by Colin Russell.
The poems are: Always, Lost, Found and My Love
Audio only
Always
Do you really love me now?
She asks each hour each day.
Yes, he says, always is now.
He understands. Wonders how
to answer in another way.
Do you really love me now?
She asks him to make a vow.
He does so smiling without delay.
Yes, he says, always is now.
Now is the same. Just feel how
it is believe what I say.
Do you really love me now?
My love, my life, I thee endow,
today and for ever, I’ll not stray.
Yes, he says, always is now.
With love and the space we each allow,
for ever and ever together we’ll stay.
Do you really love me now?
Yes, he says, always is now.
© Anthony Fisher December 2001
Lost
The moon cast all around, he pulled its pale light over her
sprinkled shadows of leaves, a trace of trunk and branches.
he could see where his caresses shimmered where he’d painted kisses,
breathed heat and fragrance. He looked for her love;
found tight-closed eyes a mouth thick with white, white ice
Found
What would I want to have, your smile, the one only I see?
I could catch it in a mirror hang it alongside our love.
I’d keep your shoes in the hall, left toe turned in
the way you step out of them, pretend that you’d just arrived.
What could I leave you to be there whenever you want?
Not my breath on your neck to be soon washed away.
It would be our memories, laughter and skins’ embrace,
secret messages, and that’s what I would want to have.
© Anthony Fisher June 2009
My Love
Perhaps it’s her hair, the shape of her face
or that she shines with a delicate light,
or delicious body that leans to invite
me to taste, accept her willing embrace,
to enjoy each other in rhythmic passion.
I feel silk strands of her voice bind me tight,
see eyes with beauty as deep as lazurite;
there is scent we have shared, breasts I’ve lain on.
No. There’s more. Thoughts in the delicate lace
of her mind. With her muse in languorous flight
landing from time to time to write. Her song,
radiant smile, focused so bright it shone
through shadows that were my heart and found,
one night, love that I thought had deserted me.
© Anthony Fisher May 2006