The Hug (from the archives)

I held on to the night, to the theory

That this recollection of your heart,

Thumping the same rhythm as mine was,

A true sentiment, not a settlement.

I held tight to the promontory, the edge

Of reason, that precarious step to the

Precipice of emoting without fear of

Humiliation. I hugged all this in the

Hope of holding more than a memory.

©Baldypoems2013

©KieranDavis2013

Note from the author, I read a wonderful poem by a lady called Tess Gallagher, also called ‘The Hug’ (I think it was in an anthology by Bloodaxe books, I’ll have to check) that really sat well with me and I’d like to quote a few lines from stanza five:

‘Clearly, a little permission

Is a dangerous thing.

But when you hug someone

You want it to be a masterpiece

Of connection.’

I am still contemplating the first line, which felt profound and deserving of attention, but that thought on wanting the hug to be a masterpiece was superb, something I am certain we all believe to be true (I know I want all my hugs to be remembered!). There was something deeper here for me though, I felt that I wanted to give more, that a hug doesn’t necessarily have to be made of physical contact.  Some poets have the ability to hold me intimately with a line, lovingly with a verse or reassuringly with an idea.  Others hug me as a welcome companion, that awkward manly pat on the back or tender womanly squeeze that says ‘there is something about you that I cherish’ and all they need do to accomplish this is write a poem.  Hug someone today, I dare you.

keep smiling and keep writing 🙂

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Luckiest Man Alive

The bridal bouquet, sits in the bathroom,

Telling a story, timeless in provision,

Some would see a dead, dusty thing,

A desperate waste of space, spared, but

Cared not to engage and envision,

The dreams we held on to, our lack of

Resistance to change, our persistence,

We grew and held true, stopped chasing

Rainbows, for we knew they led

To trust in us and our marital bed.