Forever

 

wild-rose-143

our lips spoke everyday sentences
murmering about who said what
and whether they should or did or would
while silent as a chaste kiss
our bodies whispered irrepressible promises
rarely slipping far into the illicit

he was a forbidden dream never to be fulfilled
and I was his wild virgin rose
hisΒ  secret temptation
out of reach of scarlet acts

so many times we met as if by accident
each of us knowing where the other would be
and I lay my head on his chest
enveloped in the beat of his heart
feeling no hunger or tickling need

he lifted me like a feather
and like a dead bird I fell when we were apart

no matter that he was never mine
no matter that we could not be together
and no matter how many times
and in how many ways
my flesh has been disloyal to these memories,
my heart nestles warmly next to his
and I have never, nor ever will betray him
by falling in love again

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Β©Jane Paterson Basil

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51 thoughts on “Forever

  1. ” he lifted me like a feather
    and like a dead bird I fell when we were apart” is by far my favorite line of this poem. I think that line sums up the poem and the feeling of being in true love. Wonderful work of art. Thanks for sharing.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. He never knew? That’s sad – or maybe it isn’t. The dream romance never becomes sullied by harsh reality.
      You’ve mentioned this person before, and I have an idea you may even have written a casual post last year about him visiting? Or did I MISread between the lines?

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  2. It’s beautiful, Jane, but that last line felt heartbreaking – to hold a flame for someone for ever, to know you’ll never be together but never be able to love that way again. It’s the stuff that classic love stories are made of.

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    1. It is, isn’t it? And the tragic heroine goes into decline and either dies of a broken heart or sits around staring at the wedding feast while the dust piles up, poor thing 😦 😦
      She should drop hankies in the path of a few available men, nab one with the aid of her modest, downcast smile, marry him, almost die in childbirth, discover her husband is a dissolute Lothario with a gambling habit which lands her in the workhouse, then watch her son growing up to contract Syphilis from a lady of the night and get addicted to laudanum. That’s life πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€
      Or she could get a job in a charity shop, join the green party, go to the gym, start blogging, say yes instead of no when friends ask her out, exercise her laughter muscles and get involved in a ridiculous flirtation which she regrets as soon as the silly L word is mentioned (but enough about that…). That’s living πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚

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      1. Ah, it’s a messy and complicated life – whether dying from a syphilitic trollop or pining to death. I do like the ‘staring at the wedding feast’ ending – melodramatic, but surely one of Dickens’ great ideas.
        I prefer your way, Jane. Perhaps less over the top, but not without incident πŸ™‚

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          1. Haha! Corsets and consumption are all very entertaining if you don’t have to experience them yourself. Put them in an opera and finish off with the heroine dying in an attic or throwing herself off battlements, I’m all for it. But give me anything other than M & S undies to wear and I really draw the line πŸ™‚ Always fancied trying a corset on, though. Just to se how it felt. Then take it straight off again so I could eat cake, of course. BTW, baked anymore amazing cakes recently?

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            1. Between you and me (I’m sure nobody ever reads these comments πŸ™‚ ) I had a couple of corsets – I wore them on their own, as tops. They made me feel great (mentally, not physically). I can’t help how non-feminist it is – I absolutely love that shape- particularly if combined with the purity of cream cotton or a rough, slub-weave wild silk, and teamed with a simple skirt comprising yards of creamy muslin.
              Stop stop STOP!
              No cakes. No hot chocolate. No cheese. I’m living on cardboard and water because I’m fat. I was a size 8 when I moved here, and now I’m 12 (for the benefit of readers in the US, our sizing is different than yours – see how vain I am?). Everyone says I was underweight, and I’m fine now. I disagree. That brings me back to corsets – forest green with black piping, course hemp with satin lining, ranbow stripes with tiny bells around the hem… I should start designing them… (sigh)…

              Liked by 1 person

              1. Haha! I had no idea you had a corset fetish! I can understand why, though as I like to eat and breathe more than I like to look thin, I don’t know if I could wear one for long. Remember Carry on Screaming? Fenella Fielding in that red velvet dress? I adored that when I was a kid. Always fancied being a Nancy from Oliver style strumpet, all boobs pushed up under my chin. (though without the abusize relationship and violent end of course). A size 12 too big? What’s the average size in the UK now? 16? You’re tiny woman.

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                1. And Fenella Fieldings voice, like honey and kitten fur – what wouldn’t I give for that πŸ™‚
                  Maybe size 16 is average, but I’m not. Average. In any way. Are you? What writer is? And how can we be when we only have one foot tenuously dipped in the muddy pond of reality?
                  If I had my way I would be smaller than a size 6, so I could only be seen when I spun round in circles, my indian-cotton skirt flying around me, skimming the thighs of passers by πŸ™‚
                  Is there a cure for word-vomit?

                  Liked by 1 person

                  1. Haha! No, nothing average here. πŸ™‚ I have met people who think I’m a bit odd – or at least are surprised at what I think or say. Perhaps it’s the mumsy florist thing hiding the twisted writer? Like I’m supposed to not have a dark sense of humour just because I’m a mum in my forties. I used to have a fully circular skirt, like the ladies jived in in the 50s. I could never jive, but I did like spinning in that skirt πŸ™‚

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                    1. I love those skirts, and I’d like to jive, but unfortunately my jive partner lives in Spain. We’ve discovered that remote jiving doesn’t work (I don’t know how he ever thought it would, but he’s my brother, so that may explain it) and, Beyond the beginners steps, he never quite got around to teaching me anyway.

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                    2. I always say I’m going to learn to dance more. I can do a few basic salsa steps but little else. It’s a fun way to stay active – if exhausting for someone as unfit as I am πŸ™‚

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                    3. Weight lifting’s supposed to be good though – keeps you ploughing through. Your gym sounds not too bad – I loathe gyms, although of course I’ve never actually used one, only ever delivered flowers there. Exercising in my living room where no one can see me wobble is more my style πŸ™‚

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                    4. That’s very strong-willed of you – exercising when no-one’s standing behind ou with a whip πŸ™‚ I have to have a forced regime or I won’t bother to exercise – I’ve asked for extra exercises to do at home, but I never get round to doing them.

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                    5. I’m not that strong willed – I’m having to buy a fitbit (a clever watch thing that counts your steps, calorie use, etc) to make myself move away from the keyboard more often. And all to stop myself dropping dead by the age of 60! πŸ™‚

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                    6. Quite right, Jane. Mine buzzes if I haven’t taken 250 + steps in a sixty minute period, which could be either a godsend or a curse when I’m writing. either way, I hope it will help me to not drop dead before I’m sixty πŸ™‚

                      Like

                    7. I’m going to look into getting one next week – this week I’ve spent out on a passport and a printer, so I’m eating food out of the freezer rather than dipping into my pocket-sized ISA πŸ™‚

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                    8. Ooh, you planning a foreign holiday? Fitbits are not the cheapest thing, but for me it’s certainly motivating me to move more – stupid as I know that’s what I need to do without a gadget telling me so. But it’s something to do with having that stats there that spurs you on.
                      Find anything interesting in the freezer? πŸ™‚

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                    9. The parole board threatened to turn down his release – they can do that if they consider a prisoner to be high risk – and I couldn’t leave him in there for a year without visiting. I need picture ID to get in, and my passport ran out.
                      Also, my brother lives in rural Spain.
                      Don’t know if I can afford to get over there…

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                    10. We’ve found the same problem – if you don’t drive and don’t have a current passport there are several things you can’t do. Order a senior railcard online, or so my mum’s found! Visiting rural Spain would be lovely, wouldn’t it? Hot but lovely. You’d better save your pennies before we leave the EU – it’ll only become more expensive after that 😦

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                    11. It’s OK; I’ll swim the channel with the aid of a rubber ring, turn right when I hit the shore and walk along the coast of Fance (so I don’t get lost and end up in Germany). I’ll live off seaweed and sand (I’ll have to do without the witches; sandwiches – geddit?) and when I hit Spain I’ll plump up my diet with lizards. It’ll be a doddle πŸ™‚

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        1. he next tim I feel like embarking on a flirtation, I’ll get the flirter/flirtee to fill out a form, detailing everything from how he feels about gays/lesbians/bi’s/transexuals/transgenders and women, to his views on cutting down the forests in Borneo to grow palm oil – thereby not only damaging the atmosphere, but also dislodging and murdering all the wildlife including Orangutans.
          I will also expect a dissertation on the history of immigration in the UK, going at least as far back as the Vikings, and concluding that
          a) We are all foreigners around here
          b) We wouldn’t have enough dentists if we didn’t get them from Eastern bloc countries.
          And that’s the truth πŸ™‚

          Liked by 1 person

            1. Quite. If any man is that determined, and fills in the form with all the right answers I’ll have no choice but to cahse him away with my knees. I have ugly knees – although as you know, they’re not exactly mine anyway πŸ™‚

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