Tag Archives: romantic poetry



over a pool table, back to the door.
Black shirt, black belt snug against black jeans,
slim cue easy in his hands as I walk across the floor.
A stubborn lock of blonde hair flopping
over a focussed face. Concentration
etched along a slim frame.
A sudden thrust,
an abrupt
as he breaks the balls,
sending them skittering
across the fuzzy

The shock as I behold him; the
arrow that lodges in my heart, the surety
that he is unconsciously inhaling my presence.
No need to glance my way; the love must have seeped
through his bloodstream. When he’s alone,
he will feel it. The tide in his veins
will wash him to me.

A week later, I jiggle
in a crammed dance hall, awaiting
the tide. He arrives, his eyes scanning
until they find mine.  We have never met,
not yet spoken, yet there is
no surprise, only

A silver mist,
created by our gaze,
disperses the crowd. Friends
and strangers melt away.
We dance in our
own ethereal

Tucking back
my hair, holding me close, his lips
tantalisingly close to my ear, he whispers,
“Jane”. It seems natural that he
knows my name, just as I
know his.


I thought it might be a good idea to write something romantic, since my next post is likely to be a rant…

©Jane Paterson Basil

Hidden by the Night



We slunk down dusky lanes,
meeting in the Churchyard whose cold residents
were compelled to hold their tongues;
we motored along dusty back-roads to country pubs where
our names were unknown.

When the rain fell, or the air was cold,
we huddled in the front seats of your old A30,
our furtive romance unfolding once daylight was done.

In summer, we walked forgotten trails,
brambles catching at our clothes, making us bleed.
Under cover of the trees, you held me close.
The stinging cuts and the blood that clung to my jeans
pleased me; later, when I was alone,
longing for your presence to feed me, those scrapes
were a sweet message in code
that bragged of our secret romance.

Hidden by the night
our first kisses were careful, describing shy hope, punctuated
with question marks, and when quiet lips eagerly replied,
confidence rose,
our hearts taking flight with each feathery touch,
yet all the while we were sunk
in bottomless fathoms of love –
love which stays young to this day,
even as I grow old.

Though we are separated by time and space,
a parallel vision adds grace my days.
Now and forever, in my mind,
the shadows of the night are erased
as we walk hand-in-hand, a straight path guiding us
through a daisy-speckled meadow.
The sky is as blue as your Germanic eyes,
and the sun
on your face.


©Jane Paterson Basil