love poems

early morning words

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Tue, 02 Sep 2008 13:52:09 +0000

It was long. This is the first thing you tell me come daybreak.
The phone waits impatiently with secret digits, each aching to be touched -
- some formula that answers the We of We.
Every day at this hour I itch with the anticipation of your voice -
- accented, foreign, yet so very familiar: I have known you before.

the write way | nonsense poem, no. 2

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 13:07:54 +0000

Les choses que je veux te dis sont easy;

plus facile but silent she

fearing he would not comprehend,

"Encore!" she said. "C'est le voila!"

So further she explained:

thursday morning

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Sun, 29 Jun 2008 00:49:49 +0000

So it is I cannot stop

the repeat strobe of

your eyes unblinking almost overwhelming pale grey

everything

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 13:22:55 +0000

I did I did not want I did want
to dream what I dreamt have been dreaming
back and forthteasing with your help
So casually you enter lightly my thought
my bed my bed my bed

the last time

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 13:21:53 +0000

The last time was on the corner of the highway and your street.
You wore a blue-ringed t-shirt, a pair of denim cut shorts,
changed because you came
to see me off,

poem for ohev

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 13:15:29 +0000

Indepdentdent thought gets you everywhere,
leads deliciously to cobbled roads of nowhere:
A farmhouse in Borgetto Sicily –

42 seconds of you

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 13:14:10 +0000

So many black and white photographs of only you.
Hundreds by now –
What is it I search for?

begin march

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Mon, 03 Mar 2008 17:05:13 +0000

Don't say that you don't because you do.

Say that you won't all you will and yet still

I can sense the flight of the bird as she heads northward

a missive in her fragile-boned beak it reads, "Man is in love...and loves what vanishes."

unsent letter no. 2, february 22nd

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Sun, 24 Feb 2008 22:40:15 +0000

Dear,
Today the weather is changeable – first blue, now grey.
The sky tears occassionally – sleet on the window.
The goddess has become a real ice-bitch marking
the morning the sky cried sheets of rain and I thought of you.

first kiss

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Sun, 24 Feb 2008 22:34:35 +0000

This tale relaxes to a soundtrack –
Bach’s solo cello, G-major.
The sound and feel of your kiss – the surprise and magnificence of it
~~ the poetry in the moment.

the secret that i am

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Mon, 17 Dec 2007 21:09:57 +0000

You tell me, “I never was good at keeping secrets.”
I wonder what this means then of the biggest –
sent, typed, tapped, Trebuchet
Of that we will never write again, you say.
We must only speak, you-me alone.

what you will never know

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Sun, 25 Nov 2007 23:16:02 +0000

Just as you forget I remember
a criss-cross of promises, gleaming plait,
secured at the ends with a silk-indigo ribbon.

a steady course

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 14:52:06 +0000

Only you would be here –
running toward, not from, the body’s bright-red flare.
It screams of some emergency.
Such white-light signals – the brain snaps, crackles,
hisses spit-fire lightning.

the poet going the other way

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Fri, 28 Sep 2007 18:21:06 +0000

It is a childhood rhyme;

Hiawatha didn’t bother too much
About Minnihaha and his tender touch
So he took her to the silver stream
And he whispered things like she’d never seen…

time indefinite | nightstars fallen

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Tue, 25 Sep 2007 15:25:11 +0000

Time does not end.
The indefinite future is predetermined - and me, no Calvinist, yet...
There is no way to rewind to this or that moment –
The X – Variable where I am sure I did it all wrong
only to get to the Y because I do not understand.
I have turned this over & over –