By rain, by the colour of her hair, by the sweet, soft fragrance of her cheek

the curls fell and warmed my senses like fragrant oil warmed by a winter sun

she could never take a step by me, but by her own gentle manner and stealth

only times extravagant hands could mould feelings so hard and scarred


I met her on a Tuesa-day when a kite flew and hit the clouds in a bird’s egg sky

it were a bag of surprises that burst and spilled shapes, some honey and golden

it never dawned it was tangled wool in wild cherry branches, twisted and thorned

 none were prettier, long-legged nor honest than the raven haired, rose hipped Colene


 Not Betty Ball, not Mary Lane could catch a fire while my silken maid went a walkin’

   or smiled, or tidied her hair for she and a garland of forest flowers were much sweeter,

she could lean like a willow ash, laugh like a spring of morning rain, speak so soft,

bite like mosquitoes, leave hearts raw, sore or kiss like peaches dressed in rose petals


it were a story never told nor finished


I tried to write this poem, raw and straight from the heart just as a love poem should be. Countless people know that numbing, paralysing feeling of being ‘hurt’ in love.
That is what I have tried to capture. The raven haired beauty ‘ a gaelic darling who is blissfuly unaware of the damage she does until one day she feels that same raw, heart scrape of unrequited love. Its cold, simple, uncomplicated and painful. ~ Awh just shocking!


About edenbray

I've always enjoyed writing and thats all I want to do... .. . I’m not sure why I stopped writing, was it 9/11? .. . Eden Bray is born ugly, wet and covered in blood, mucous and bodily functions. The effluence of my short life .. . I'm a Writer and Artist - since 1966, now a Blogger ~ I write lots of poems, written essays, articles, reviews, opinion + comment .. . please join the shebang but more importantly please leave me a marker with a comment for my ego and my encouragement :- thanks, edenbray
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