Olivia Juliette

You cleave unto my wool-clad chest

as a starfish to a rock

with tiny perfect fingers clenched

and bootied feet a-splay

I watch you as you dream in sleep

of things you know-not-what

and caress your gossamer covered head

and hold you, while I may.

I kiss your head, and smell your skin

and taste the peace within you

Your tiny lungs take in a breath

and gently let it go

I watch your rib-cage rise and fall

so slight, it's barely moving

my giant hands hold you in place

but I don't think you know.

I wonder if there'll be a time

from deep within your memory

that you will get a feeling that

I kept you safe and warm

while you just lay there sleeping

and listening to my heartbeat

unworried and cocooned in love

protected from all harm.

For you, I wish a peaceful life

a life of constant loving

that you might give, and yet receive

all pleasure, without end

For holding you so close to me

I feel a bond between us

unknowingly, you give me love

my darling little friend.

In Memory of......

This photo by my friend and fellow photographer, Victoria Burns , inspired me to write a poem about the strange sight of a bouquet of roses on the frozen surface of a canal, somewhere in Scotland.

In Memory of......

A dozen yellow roses

neatly wrapped and cellophaned

greenery included

beautifully arranged

lying on the frozen surface

out of reach of probing hand 

carefully slid across the ice

by someone on dry land

They've been there quite a time now so that 

petals to the ice have stuck

and efforts at recovery

would need much more than luck

The clinging ice will not give up

despite the cold bright sun above

this symbol of remembrance

these glaze-wrapped flowers of love

The passer-by, her progress now

arrested by th'incongruous sight

of roses on an ice sheet

that were slid there in the night

She wonders what the reason could be

roses out of season would be

left here in this public place

to wither in the light.

Yellow rose for friendship

traditionally the florists say

so were they left in memory

when friendship went astray?

or is the feeling deeper still

did icy water friendship kill

and roses mark the horror

of a love tryst in decay?

The sweet juxtaposition 

of the bouquet over water

that as yet cannot engulf it

brings a feeling to her mind

of a moment held in timeless space

before the final resting place

where memories and souls commune

and life and death are kind.

©Rob King 2015


Many thanks to Victoria Burns for allowing me to use her photo.