I’ve attempted a sonnet about you.

How I love you. How much I care for you.

Others may think what does that amount to,

the poem’s metaphors staring at you.


Well, yes, it attempts to catch your beauty.

The words to describe, as if with a kiss.

Perhaps it’s read as a lovelorn duty,

this effort to say what captures my bliss.


But it sought in its way to be a song.

With a romantic rhythm and heart beat.

A hope for joy there, too, dancing along.

Excitement that sings whenever we meet.

A love sonnet, not meant to travel far.

It’s already connected to a star.


Did you say we could like one another?

Did you mean, as friends or even closer?

Both of us knowing things to discover.

Whether we get on and come back for more.


Did you say you could spend some time with me?

Did you mean as a couple together?

Such precious moments in proximity,

Could perhaps be remembered forever.


Did you say, may decide to go with me?

Did you mean personal relationship?

Just us two involved romantically.

Even intimately. You care a bit.


Actually, care a lot, I would hope.

Did you say, and mean, you too had that hope.


We will survive a terrorist attack.

When our boat sinks, we will swim our way back.

Avoid drug killers who are high on crack.

Get out from under a multiple scrap.


Can we sustain this terrifying life?

when routine boredom could be less stressful.

Let’s feed our danger-loving appetite,

but dodge the bullets. Be safe after all.


Where we’re excluded from, we’ll gain entry.

Evade capture climbing over the wall.

If later caught and imprisoned, break free.

In tightest situations, we’ll stay cool.


It’s a risk alright for our partnership.

In crisis, to work our way out of it.


“I am lonely for a text” message sent.

Some hoped for responses not forthcoming,

Yet the heartfelt expression was well meant.

Wanted communications not coming.


Inbox denuded of instant and new.

Although past cursory comments are there.

No valediction within their review.

Viewings equivalent to a blank stare.


Similarly, with my own sent items.

I was witty, some jokes and some photos.

Thought would elicit fuller response to them,

but, if at all, the barest reply shows.


Unloved, perhaps. Close to feeling that’s raw.

Then vibrating ping, “Be lonely no more”.


What can we say about love when we’re old?

The physical pushed aside by frailty.

Urgent passions gone ‘though once they made bold.

The aim of pursuit lost its clarity.


But there’s love, more gentle in its grandeur.

Care and respectful affection abides.

Amazing that the connection endures.

Yet it’s what’s still there, the love that resides.


A bond that is a lasting commitment.

Being together, mutually so.

What’s possible, in this predicament

of aging setbacks, incredibly grows.


Sadly lacking the binding seal of lust.

But love holds, to show continual trust.


Possessor of a passionate nature.

So not emotionally retarded.

Assure you, ‘a lover not a hater’.

My violence has long since departed.


But not for desire; desire for loving.

For close encounters, the most important.

To explain myself is all I’m asking.

To talk freely in friendship a portent.


Passion, maybe in my soul; in my mind.

I want to impart some of it to you.

A climbing plant whose leaves could be entwined.

My feelings through the trellis coming through.


Does this constitute romanticism?

Whether you care at all, your decision.


A song bird could not sing better for you.

Sky not appear more of a sunny blue.

A rose could not be any redder, too.

Cannot give more than all my heart to you.


A jewel, glint and glitter its best for you.

Mountain stream, the purest water come through.

Newborn appear as beautiful and new.

Cannot give more than all my soul to you.


A master paints his finest art for you.

Words not be spoken that could be more true.

Cinderella’s prince, to slip on the shoe.

Cannot give more than all of me to you.


Try for best poems that can do, for you.

Cannot give more than all my love to you.


What will there be, when the past’s uncovered?

When secret information is disclosed.

One can’t pretend to remain unbothered,

when an old light on the new is imposed.


Will guilt be a message that is conveyed?

The person and context misunderstood.

Those hearing the sorry tale then dismayed.

And later, denied the space to make good.


Too much to hope that Love will overlook?

Can’t expect it of a person once touched.

Criticized for not playing by the book.

Down the toilet then, will that Love be flushed?


Or, reassessing as priority

Love, placed ahead of the past’s enmity.


A little song dedicated to you.

Not short in its love, only in its size.

Enough for my heart’s music to pass through

And the longer symphony it implies.


A little song admiring you greatly.

Verse or two; my best intentions within.

Natural to love and sing innately.

You, beautiful, in the lyrics written.


Alluded to, the passion and desire

that even now link us both together.

Song’s words encompassing to show entire.

With chorus we’d be singing, forever.


The content limitless, ‘though song at brink.

It just says enough, love sonnet succinct.


I suppose it’s a strange phenomenon.

At least unusual, you may discern,

‘though obviously more common in song.

Emotional sound of a man who yearns.

I don’t think I’d be speaking out of turn,

if say some people have a lot to learn

about wish for love, which can slowly burn.

Can hear sometimes sound of a man who yearns.

Do not expect it publicly expressed.

Told foolish, and told off by someone stern.

Others suffrin’ but repressed, not impressed.

So kept within, sound of a man who yearns.

Unless can tell to you of its extent,

then, sound of man who yearns, for whom it’s meant.


The most beautiful imaginable

would be a proper description of you.

Need to use my skills intellectual

To write an apt love poem that is new.


I think the word ‘fabulous’ would be in.

May also find a place for ‘wonderful’,

and, while my imagination’s flying,

would, very likely, include ‘loving you’.


So, here goes, “you’re a wonderful person”.

“It is fabulous just being with you”.

And before my inspiration is gone,

“I think I was made to be loving you.”


Admit it’s hardly Shakespeare coming through.

But, fabulous, wonderful, loving you.


Keep it simple and understandable.

Avoid getting anybody confused.

Don’t mention subjects indescribable.

Apologise when knowledge is misused.


Make sure content is comprehensible.

But don’t patronize with words short and sweet.

No sense pretending intellectual.

Not have readers out of their depths, and beat.


Especially where there’s a clear message.

Obfuscation is unacceptable.

Stride out along a brightly lit passage.

Metaphor clarity’s defensible.


It’s necessary, where we speak of love

it’s the case that you understand enough.


Why does she keep going out with him then?

Why has she let him get away with it?

That all is rosy she seems to pretend.

Why isn’t she using her brain a bit?


Obvious she has strong feelings for him

to excuse and forgive repeatedly.

What she sees in him takes imagining.

Stuck with how she felt originally.


Well, we will just have to watch out for her.

Although there doesn’t seem much we can do.

Someone better than him we would prefer.

But her choice, and she wants to see it through.


Hard to understand. Hardly sensible.

Would hate to see her hurt, but it’s her call.


Precious little warmth starting off the day.

Frost upon the ground and cold air above.

Cloud cover. Yet to turn away from grey.

But I remember, of course there is love.


Depressive dullness has not gone away.

Of bad fortune, I’ve surely had enough.

Hope for a life that betters yesterday.

Then I recall it, of course there is love.


It is my mainstay. Also my mainspring.

There when all else feels so endlessly rough.

Consistently, it seems, delivering.

Reminding me that, of course there is love.


Thank you for giving me all of the stuff.

Recolllected that of course there’s your love.


Dysfunctional, understanding too much.

Whilst at the same time not knowing enough.

So very easy to get out of touch.

Rule out the necessity to be tough.


Find that I’m thinking the unthinkable.

In long relationships, dependencies.

Like addict and dependent, linked by soul.

Between them symbiotic tendencies.


Parasitic, but not totally so.

The needy one and provider can change

positions, so a stronger love can grow.

Develop trust as best we can arrange.


I don’t mind giving. I’ve taken so much.

If it is my turn, I am tough enough.


I’m here to protect you. Your bodyguard.

To keep your celebrity body safe.

Anyone try it on will find I’m hard.

That you won’t come to harm, you can have faith.


Because I’m your bodyguard. Protect you.

If there’s any danger, I’ll take the risk.

Only allow someone you accept through.

Whoever they are, I’ll be there to frisk.


Take being your bodyguard, serious.

Get you safely to your destinations.

Those things suspicious or mysterious,

I’ll check them out for the explanations.


I’m here to keep you totally secure.

Apart from me, nothing you need endure.


Words. I only have words to say to you.

Expression of what it means to face you.

Talk that’s honest, bravely saying what’s true.

Seeking words that would really embrace you.


Here’s looking at you. A fantastic sight.

Admiring your ageing, ageless beauty.

Worth much more than a second glance alright.

My gaze returned would endlessly suit me.


But it’s words that interest me the most.

Engage your interest and impress you.

Communicating sincerely. No boast.

Yet, when all this said, want to caress you.


Not loquacious, verbose, obscure, obtuse,

but gracious. I’m convinced! Amour’s the truth.


I want you as an App on my I-Pad.

I click, and there you are at my service.

Not that I’d want you for anything bad.

Happy to know you’re there. That you exist.


So what could happen when you are applied.

You dancing, perhaps, come up on the screen.

Or something pers’nal to me you confide.

Or from a play or film, you act a scene.


If I’m in luck, it would be a love scene,

with your lips downloaded for me to kiss.

Passion like water boiling. Feel the steam.

This App of you, would give the title ‘Bliss’.


Hard to resist choosing you to appear,

as access to your ikon, I’d keep near.