Trust 3...

trust 2...

Venus and the moon...

You have given this poet back his

words, and this blind man back his eyes.

When we are far apart,

separated even by continents,

think of this moment.

When you do, I will

get that spidery feeling

on the back of my legs and neck

and know you are still with me

because we believed in trust

and we believed in love

and we believed in chocolate

and poetry and spring rolls

and sex and intimacy.

You are so beautiful.

When she sighs, she gives me back my eyes.

We have been together for seven days

and a thousand years. I am no longer afraid.

“Don’t disappear,” she said,

and so I stayed.

I am no longer afraid of all my fuck ups and mistakes.

I am no longer afraid of love and all the strange forms it takes.

To anyone who knows you, this would not come as a surprise.

But you really have given me back my eyes.

Don’t disappear.

We really are two wandering poets

of the same kin,

sharing words

like goosebumps on skin.

 

(c) Brent Harpur, Feb 2015.

2am Melbourne Airport...

It would be too obvious
for this poet to say he misses you
(although he misses you more
than any words can say).
 
Standing in the cold,
I glance up and see a beautiful, low-hanging moon.

She has a huge chunk missing from her side.

My bus arrives and as I silently board,
I look up at her one last time.
I give her a wink & a cheeky, knowing smile.

And with a tear in my eye,
I whisper under my breath:

"I know how you feel."

 
(c) Brent Harpur, 10/2/2015.

A few centimetres taller...

This morning I have awoken to find that my feet stretch a little over the length of my bed. Perhaps the bed has shrunk in the night? Or perhaps, it is I who has grown a few centimetres?? Wiggling my toes (as they dangle in mid-air over the edge of the mattress) I feel like I am levitating a little. Defying gravity, but still in an inert, horizontal position.

But wait...

I have also realised that the width of my bed (on either side of me) has changed. It now seems to stretch on for miles & miles on either side of my naked body. I shiver. Where once I seemed to occupy most of the mattress, I now feel very tiny & small, almost as if I have awoken in the middle of a large valley or chasm.

I close my eyes tight, find my sheet and bury my head in my pillow (it still smells of you)... I intuitively reach out for a warm, jigsaw piece-fit of a hand. But it is not there.
I shiver again. But this time from desire & memory, not of fear.

I fall into a deep sleep, and in my dream my tiny/huge bed has become a boat... I cast off from the shore, into uncharted waters, with only the memory of your warm embrace and the stars to guide me...

It is true. I cannot see those stars very well. But you, you my dear (and you alone): You have given me something stronger than all the constellations I cannot see and these charts I cannot read.

You have given me:

Trust...

And love...

And magic. 

(c) Brent Harpur 11/2/2015.

Valentines, Part Two: Not a love poem...

 

Her rainbow arch,

it fits perfectly

in the mouth of this volcano /

And I just hope, even in separation,

that she can

still feel my heat.

And should I

melt all her colours into one,

may it be a golden beam

of bending light.

Together, joined, one:

We find God.

And you are so fucken beautiful 

my dear

 

when you come.

And I just hope, even in separation,

that she can

still feel my heart.

Happy Valentine's Day, My Love!!

And hour by passing hour,

Can you still feel

this humming bird

deep inside your flower??

This is not a love poem,

 this is my manifesto:

I have written it

in fire, birdsong, 

goosebumps & braille

upon your lower back...

...You, and you alone,

truly set

this Water-Sign on fire!!

(c) Brent Harpur, 14th February, 2015.

 

Valentines, Part One: a thousand years & ten days / bend the light...

 

And in different beds

we may both lie /

but I feel we may be

stars born of the same sky.

It's true:

We're like two stars in the

same evening sky,

separated by time and a lot of space /

May these words gently comfort you,

like some kind of interstellar embrace.

And can you still feel my fingers as they linger

in your hair? In the stars (I see behind closed lids)

I can still see your

blissful smile,

your glowing face.

And here, where you lay

mere days 

(or was it light-years) ago? /

I am still finding stardust

in all my

sheets & on my pillows.

Such a tender, sweet meeting

of two pairs of soft wet lips /

a beautiful cosmic collision

of our sacred sun & moon, eclipsed.

I still shudder, can you feel it?

This star is born anew /

and seeks your blaze

too!

Distance cannot diminish this passion

born of and from the very fiery core

of two

love-fueled suns

and twin 

flames.

Not when alone / together

we have blazed for

a thousand years and ten days.

Sirius,

believe it 

when I chase you across the heavens

and say:

"I love you."

Please look for me amongst the

constellations of Pisces & Scorpio.

I long

to once more fill you

with my cosmic, ancient fire!!

Bend the light with me...

And here, where you lay

mere days 

(or was it light-years) ago? /

I am still finding stardust

in all my

sheets & on my pillows.

I am still finding stardust

in all my 

sheets,

and on my pillows.

(c) Brent Harpur, 2015.

"Wherever the wings of love take me, that is my flare path and my way."

(Diane Cilento)

"To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides."

(David Viscott)

"Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt I love."

(William Shakespeare)