All Posts Tagged "Love Poems"

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• 
  by
  Jé Maverick
  
  Friday, June 1, 2012
  My heart saw your mighty presence:

  you walked alone by a river

  through a forest of slender birches.

  Your skirts could not silence

  the desires of your golden legs,

  nor could the whirling waters douse

  the ample fires of your passion.

  While sounding out for love,

  the bell of your body rang

  in perfect pitch.

  Inside the resonant truth

  of longing,

  the bell of my body awakened.

  Twin soul, guide me to this water’s edge,

  so we may know this vital harmony,

  may know this third body, born into communion.

  

  The Bell Of Your Body Rang
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• 
  by
  Jé Maverick
  
  Thursday, May 31, 2012
  These, then – these are the fragments

  that cannot be unknown,

  shards embedded so deep in the structure of knowing,

  that knowing cannot cease.

  We have exploded on impact,

  the slivers of our joint perfection

  are like slivers of an ancient language,

  each talking to our longing bodies:

  the lyric of the blooming earth;

  the green world, and desire;

  the song of the booming, thumping life.

  These, then – these are the fragments

  that cannot be unfelt,

  no matter how far torn or scorned,

  that forever call us back

  to all of feeling.

  

  Slivers Of An Ancient Language
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• 
  by
  Jé Maverick
  
  Tuesday, May 22, 2012
  Perhaps, wide-eyed, you‘ve heard it,

  your heart pressed hard against some tiny world:

  a celebration bursts clean from a lily‘s bud,

  or the flash of plumage from a diving wren.

  Love draws itself from the sonorous earth,

  and rouses like a waking god.

  Listen: it sings at once from the thickest rocks core,

  and strongly from the ocean‘s coldest deep;

  is present as the canyon opens wide

  to receive the naked glory of the sky.

  The sequoia rises from a gnarl of roots

  like a giant vibrant length of praise.

  Put down all cold books that snare,

  stifle all verses that barb and numb,

  to join hands with life is a hymn in itself,

  bare feet in wild dust: an answered prayer.

  The divine thrives in the world as sense:

  no word or name can form its tongue.

  The sunlight, pooled and gleaming warm

  in the cleavage of a lover‘s breast,

  and touch, closer than caressing light itself,

  holds its secret like a sacred flame:

  our bodies merge as the Word of God -

  into love we dissolve as divination.

  

  Closer Than Light
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• 
  by
  Jé Maverick
  
  Monday, May 21, 2012
  It is not the heart that encloses the beloved,

  but the beloved that fills the void of the heart.

  The flower, too, opens its loveliness

  on the Earth that is itself in bloom.

  Let us wish we may be equal to the moon,

  that all the light we receive we give away;

  or in being equal, we are one with love

  in flowing ceaselessly again into the world.

  

  The Earth In Bloom
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• 
  by
  Jé Maverick
  
  Sunday, May 20, 2012
  Without regard for death or for previous battles

  and their fierce toll, you must go out alone to the badlands.

  You must go out alone to the badlands,

  as if to meet a band of barbarians, or a thousand moaning tigers

  You must go out without armour or scimitar,

  without a moment’s training in the art of the fight

  You must go out without a feeling of impending doom,

  as though to be clad in all of vulnerability was to be clothed

  in all of courage.

  You must go out, you must go out to meet love

  in the open, not as a warrior, but as a hopeful child.

  

  You Must Go Out
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• 
  by
  Jé Maverick
  
  Friday, May 18, 2012
  I.

  I wished that I could tell her, but in transit

  one can only ever be rooted in the trauma they are doomed to hold -

  that is the constant companion, the undeciphered ball

  of terror (for some, manna for others) – the monster

  which is constantly rebirthed. How many times will we meet

  and I be different? How many hurts will be dragged like anchors

  into each new life that I am harboured by, how many wonders

  will roll from my tongue to transform into detritus or flaw?

  She asked me who I was, as though uttering a curse.

  I quoted a tree I knew – simply stood there: still; incomprehensible.

  II.

  There is no clear answer that the talons can give:

  your life, dropped from great flight and tenderised,

  will make your crumpled body sing the chorus of all pains known.

  This is the wilderness one never wants to dream of.

  The patina of your blood oozed onto rock

  attracts the same crowd that seeks all glittering things;

  your soul is touted as a vial of tonic for every ill -

  you’re a life-changer, a commissioned little factory of happiness.

  She asks me to become the beast. What if I already am?

  What if it is all I can be, to grunt and love loudly?

  III.

  All this reckless babbling after identity: if in love we are not consumed,

  we become the unreliable narrators of our own lives.

  Nothing happens to us but through us – the self collapses,

  disintegrates – the thumping question is never who,

  but how love is to be made from the disintegrated self,

  never how the self is to be constructed from love.

  Anxious to believe the immeasurable perfection of it’s own legend,

  the lame ego must whimper, for the answer is a splintered crutch.

  I become nothing in love – by love I am liberated.

  Those who seek must know they are looking for nothing.

  

  By Love, I Am Liberated
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• 
  by
  Jé Maverick
  
  Thursday, May 17, 2012
  — for Janie

  In my not knowing how,

  in my not knowing why,

  grace has gathered me up

  from my careful life –

  has filled me with strange condition.

  Love has claimed me.

  The wild bird of your freedom

  has taken nest, by choice, upon my hand.

  In its rejoicing

  the wild bird of my heart has taken flight.

  How ancient this fever’s warmth

  in its clinging to the body;

  how ancient this spreading of wings

  into this void above the earth,

  into this vast sky of the unknown.

  The wild bird of your freedom

  has nestled, by choice, upon my hand.

  In my not knowing how,

  in my not knowing why:

  love has claimed me.

  

  Wild Birds
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• 
  by
  Jé Maverick
  
  Wednesday, May 16, 2012
  Some people claim to know God:

  they have never heard the great aching arc of your laughter;

  they pray to know the many glories of heaven

  without once having looked upon another’s heart.

  Love is not elsewhere. It rises and glows

  in the ever present flow of now -

  a burst in the gut, a dancing flame in a vortex,

  a bouquet of flame for the hearthless.

  You are the river of my time on this earth,

  you are every tributary, your waters are my life,

  all breath is our breath, all flesh is our flesh

  all joy is our body, all fire is our fire.

  In love we are equal to heaven, to all beauty and glory

  that ever was: your hand in mine is a Universe.

  Each day we are pieced from the ash of sacred beings

  who have burned, together.

  

  All Joy Is Our Body
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• 
  by
  Jé Maverick
  
  Friday, December 31, 2010
  The hands of all gods are wringing:

  they have been emptied of love.

  Misunderstood, it has been laid down.

  We must gather it to ourselves.

  We must turn to others and surrender

  all love we guarded from the world.

  The great worship is each for the other;

  the great praise is one circle

  of given,

  and received.
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• 
  by
  Jé Maverick
  
  Monday, December 27, 2010

  The mapping of flaw has been completed. The shape of my name inherits the angles and contours of infamy. It can barb a tongue if uttered in certain quarters. It can be used as a flamethrower, can be a bottle filled with rags and propane and thrown against an ear. My name can glaze eyes with the longing for an intimate jihad….

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