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A Moment on the Lips
Your love
Struck by love
A nice little spot
I don’t want to meet for a drink after
work.
I don’t want to sample your charms.
I want to be with you forever, my love,
And to spend every night in your arms.
I don’t want a sneaked, brief encounter with you
I don’t want a tryst of that kind.
I want to be with you forever, my love,
And to lie with you close intertwined.
I don’t want a kiss stolen when no-one’s there.
I don’t want a clandestine hug.
I want to be with you forever, my love,
As snug as a bug in a rug!
I don’t want a coffee in Starbuck’s with you.
I don’t want a sandwich or cake.
I want to be with you forever, my love,
And to see you each time I awake.
I don’t want an email or phone call from you.
I don’t want a text message too.
I want to be with you forever, my love,
And to whisper the words, “I love you”.
© Ken Wood 2004
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Your love’s a fleecy blanket on a
cold, winter’s night.
It warms the chill of loneliness. It takes away my plight.
It fits around me snugly, keeping in my body heat.
It makes me feel so comfortable, spiritually replete.
Your love’s the glowing embers in the hearth late at night.
It brightens up the darkness. It casts a warming light.
Its cheering glow reminds me that tomorrow’s sun will dawn,
When night-time’s gloomy darkness from the land has withdrawn.
Your love’s a bowl of soup on coming home from country walk
Across an icy landscape ‘neath the gaze of soaring hawk,
Your ears a-tingle from the cold, your breath a cloudy mist.
You warm up from the inside once your lips the spoon have kissed.
Your love’s the smell of wood smoke in November wafting by
So sweetly aromatic as it floats up to the sky,
Reminding me of warmth and comfort standing round a fire,
The heat upon my face just like my little heart’s desire.
Your love’s my favourite movie for the forty-seventh time
So lovingly familiar, every character and line.
So easy on the eyes and ears, so comforting to see
It kindles carefree thoughts and happy memories in me.
Your love’s the breaking waves upon a hot and scorching day
Refreshingly engulfing, soothing, washing pain away.
I love to feel its power as it splashes over me,
Caressing my whole body, making me feel free.
Your love’s a glass of water when I’m thirsty, mouth all dry.
I want to gulp it down in one, my need to satisfy.
I want to drink so much of it, it runs all down my chin.
And moistens everywhere it touches on my arid skin.
Your love’s a comfy bed when I am weary of this life
It soothes and cushions restfully, restoring me from strife.
Supporting like a mattress and yet swaddling me deep,
It cuddles me invisibly and helps me fall asleep.
Your love’s a cup of tea when waking from a long, deep sleep
It hails a new day breaking, a harvest new to reap.
The tea refreshes, quenches me, welcoming the dawn
Allowing me one final stretch and one last gaping yawn.
Your love’s a sword. It strengthens me, providing me with steel
To face new challenges each day, that weaknesses reveal.
I hold its blade before me and it lifts my spirits high.
There’s nothing in this world to do that I would not thus try!
© Ken Wood 2004
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While sitting in my car, just musing on
your breasts and thighs
This bloody brolly handle hit me right between the eyes.
It lives inside a shoulder bag in which I keep my stuff,
You know, my poems, pens and things, but not a powder puff!
It fell out several days ago and lodged down by the seat.
So finding it I thought I’d pop it back again. How neat!
And as I slipped it in, I must have touched the trigger thing
‘Cos suddenly the handle shot up driven by its spring.
It whacked me such a heavy blow it almost knocked me out.
The pain was so intense I couldn’t help but give a shout.
My face felt numb and swollen badly, right all down one side
My obvious discomfort I did not attempt to hide.
And when I saw you later, you could see at once my plight
And talked me into going to the hospital that night.
I told the nurse my story and she couldn’t suppress a laugh
While making the assumption that you were my ‘other half’.
A doctor had a quick look and pronounced that I would live.
The laughter of the nurses I was happy to forgive.
But as we left and headed back towards my waiting flat,
I sudd’nly realised that someone special by me sat.
You held my hand so tightly. I could see how much you cared.
You looked so very tender, with your heart completely bared.
And then it struck me just how much your care had meant to me.
There seemed to be between us, a special alchemy.
We hear of Cupid and his bow and how he makes a link
By shooting arrows at two parties he’s inclined to think
Could fall in love and work together as a happy pair,
And many special moments with each other wish to share.
A bow and arrow’s one thing but a brolly handle. Wow!
I’m not quite sure what happened and I really don’t know how
I came to feel the way I do. It really mystifies,
But I’ll be jolly careful next time I muse on your thighs
It’s interesting to speculate but we shall never know
How things might otherwise have been. Would we be thus aglow?
Would you and I still feel towards each such close ties,
If a brolly handle hadn’t hit me right between the eyes!
© Ken Wood 2004
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And finally a happy little story that gives hope for all.
. . . . . . . . . . .
On Saturday nights Billy liked to go out
in an effort to find some romance
He’d go with some friends to a pub in the town and then afterwards go to a
dance.
He’d start getting ready by having a shave and then after a scalding hot
show’r,
He’d sort out his hair and then squeeze a few zits, with the whole process
taking an hour.
In the hall was a mirror in which he would have a last look at his overall
mien
He looked at himself and was suddenly shocked and appalled at this thing
that he’d seen.
He’d a spot on the end of his nose, a great spot on the end of his nose!
No matter what method he used to disguise it, he found that the bloody thing
shows
He jumped on the bus, running straight up the stairs, and then sat down
right up at the front.
He kept his head down so he couldn’t be seen. He did not want himself to
affront.
The clippie came walking along down the aisle calling, “Any more fares,
please, me dears.”
Bill held up his hand with some money to her, trying hard to conceal his
worst fears.
He looked at the floor so she wouldn’t observe this great thing that he
needed to squeeze.
She asked him, “Where to, dear?” Not thinking, he turned round to her and
said, “Town Hall, miss, please.”
“You’ve a spot on the end of your nose, a great spot on the end of your
nose.
You look just like Rudolph the reindeer”, she said, “and you might even say
that it glows!
The bus reached his stop and he ran down the stairs, jumping off with a sigh
of relief.
He stopped for a minute and pulled from his pocket a very large white
handkerchief.
He tried different methods of holding it up to his face so that ‘it’
couldn’t be seen
Then ent’ring the pub, he walked up to his mates with the kerchief held up
as a screen.
He turned to the barmaid and said through the cloth, “I’d like 4 pints of
bitter please, miss.”
She said, “Come again!” and then yanked from his hand what was hiding his
dark nemesis.
“You’ve a spot on the end of your nose, a great spot on the end of your
nose.
Oh, I wouldn’t ever go out with a chap who had got on his face one of
those!”
They went to the dance and poor Billy was dying of shame as they walked in
the door.
Before long his mates had all pulled and were bopping away out upon the
dance floor.
He stood feeling sheepish not daring to move for the fear of rejection was
dire.
Then suddenly he saw a sight so fantastic it made his poor heart all afire.
A gorgeous young lady was standing nearby, all alone, looking fed up and sad
But something attracted Bill to her sad plight and it made him feel suddenly
glad.
She’d a spot on the end of her nose, a great spot on the end of her nose.
To him it was lovely, too gorgeous for words. Do you think she’d like his?
D’you suppose?
He walked up to her and he smiled as he said, “’Scuse me, miss. Would you
like the next dance?
She lifted her eyes, and then stared at his face just as if she were in a
deep trance.
“I’d love to,” she said, and they strolled hand in hand through the dancers
who made way for them.
The next thing you know is he’s bought her a ring with a giant great rock of
a gem.
They married soon after and had seven kids and gave thanks for their joy
every night
But now and again they’d recall how they’d met and then laugh when they
thought of their plight
They’d a spot on the end of their noses, great spots on the end of their
noses.
On each annivers’ry of that very night, Bill would buy his great love twelve
red roses.
© Ken Wood 2004
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