R L Kilgore

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Jun 12

Attributes and foibles
Hold no uniqueness of their own,
But, rather, varied combinations
Allow us each to stand alone.

Of all the myriad of loves,
More hurtful than to be forsaken
Ranks the one that’s unrequited
With less given than is taken.

To entice another’s favor
Are affected virtues shown.
But truest measure of affection -
Will you miss me when I’m gone?

                                  rlkilgore

Comment to   rloykilgore@gmail.com

Jul 10

 

                  (To Toressa – After 44 Years)

Beauty came in the guise of innocence
And wrapped her arms around our youthful days
Until the lust we recognized as love
Sang its final song and departed.

I remember it well.

The grass was smooth and soft under our feet
And the days were long enough that nights had only
Time enough to cool, and cover our passions.
And love came easily, like apples in a laden orchard,
Easily plucked and delicious but now indistinguishable
As birds flying in flock, flitting and sweeping,
So all blend together and become the whole.

Still we remain, you and I, lovers
Regardless the accumulated years.
No evening finds its heaven filled with stars
More faithfully inclined – maybe the language
Of an unknown tongue can answer why, or,
Perhaps, the reason lies in the silence
Of a falling snow.

 

 

 

 

rloykilgore@gmail.com

 

Sep 19
Today
icon1 Ron | icon2 love poetry, Opinion, personal comment, personal poetry, Poems | icon4 September 19, 2009 @ 10:00 am| icon3No Comments »

The cautious woman window shopping
Pauses, then passes on,
Time is not a patient fool
To dally very long.

For some tomorrow is a distant thunder
Whose storm they cannot see,
For some tomorrow is a candy store
Whose shelves may be empty.

Some in a life will never know
The taste of a lingering kiss,
The brush of fingers across their cheek,
A moment such as this.

 

                             

                            rlkilgore

 

rlkilgore@chartertn.net

Jul 9
To Toressa
icon1 Ron | icon2 love poetry, personal poetry, Poems | icon4 July 9, 2009 @ 9:51 pm| icon3No Comments »

Was ever a man more enticed
Or held so closely bound,
With no shackles evident
Or prison walls around?
Could ropes be drawn less securely,
And no attempt of a heart to flee?
And could a bird, born to fly
Free of any remand,
Find more desire but to remain
In your open hand?

                rlkilgore

 

rlkilgore@chartertn.net

Jul 9
Sleep, My Love
icon1 Ron | icon2 eulogy, love poetry, Poems | icon4 July 9, 2009 @ 9:47 pm| icon3No Comments »

 (for one who held his Love’s hand
          as she passed away)

Sleep, my Dear – Sleep in merited peace,
Your burden freed of infirmity’s heavy cloak.
This moment entered opens a door revealing
What just prior was not ours to evoke.

Sleep, my Love – Sleep, and I shall stand
The watch, a hallowed vigil your sacred shrine.
In this consecrated slumber lies
Your comfort and in your comfort I find mine.

                                          rlkilgore

rlkilgore@chartertn.net

Apr 15

A few will understand this, many will think
they do and some will haven’t a clue.

 

                      Every man in a life
       Should know the love of a woman given as her joy,
A love with passion sustained beyond the night,
          Each day a melody made sweet
With love more devoted than to its own breath,
      That soars above the surface of self
And breaches the gates of heaven so any man,
       Fool as he might be, may see within.
     A love when lost, as in its time it shall,
                   Never to be again.

                            rlkilgore

rloykilgore@gmail.com

Apr 12

 

 

 

rlkilgore@chartertn.net 

 

 

This poem was written for an elderly lady, Haydee Cansada.  She was born into position and wealth in Cuba, but had to leave when Castro came to power.  She lived in a small apartment in our town to be near her brother, her closest remaining relative. I took Spanish lessons from her and the reference to an owl comes from a discussion we had about why the owl is a symbol of wisdom.  She longed for the chance to see Cuba again but it never happened.  I wrote this for her as a present while she was still alive.

          Caribbean Blue
  (a Haydee, una dama de Cuba)

Fog of morning rolls up from the ground,
Windless motion that carries no sound
Except the hoot of an owl.
Out past the porch where ought to be trees,
Hangs abstract forest without any leaves,
Shrouded in a misty cowl.

Down the front steps, grass, smooth and deep,
Soft, wet and messy, adheres to my feet
And bends temporarily prone.
The air had texture that rubs on my face.
My God, how have I come to this place
To be so all alone?

Symmetrical webs perspire in the light
Reflecting labors completed last night,
Designed not to hinder the view.
Beauties of Spring, their colors in array,
Just memories masked by this curtain of gray.
Vainly, I strain to see through.

At last through the mist an unfiltered ray
Of sunlight cleaves cleanly, announcing the day
With its welcoming light.
Slowly, above, the veil changes hue,
First lacy, then pastel, then Caribbean blue.
Again the beloved sight!

                                  rlkilgore

 

Mar 15
A Father’s Lament
icon1 Ron | icon2 love poetry, personal poetry | icon4 March 15, 2009 @ 5:37 pm| icon3No Comments »

Today a love was consummated
with promises to honor and love
and possibly obey, I couldn’t say
exactly what the vows consisted of.

The reverend droned with relevant
admonitions for the lovely pair.
Oh, my little girl,
my little girl with the golden hair

Pulled back in a pony-tail,
shining laughter, knowing no shame
from missing front teeth – it seems
memories most vivid appear in a frame.

“Do you take this woman?”
Oh, little girl rest your head on my chest
for a perpetual moment,
for an infinite caress.

“Do you take this man?”
No! My heart jumped with a start
of desperation. “No,” I shouted,
but my lips betrayed me and failed to part.

Today a love was consummated.
Flushed with rapture, the lovely pair,
with wholesome intent, stood wrapped
in a legacy of love, unaware.

rlkilgore

rlkilgore@chartertn.net

Jan 17
This Wisp, Happiness
icon1 Ron | icon2 happiness, love poetry, Poems | icon4 January 17, 2009 @ 4:56 pm| icon3No Comments »

Love’s lofty ambition
And the measure of Heaven,
More sought than gold,
Though through golden means,
This wisp, Happiness -
Disguised to be
The siren’s caress.

No beckoning served
That demands a kiss,
Yet sweetly found
When love’s requited,
Elusive Happiness -
Pursued beyond
What we possess.

rlkilgore

Dec 20
Modest Lady
icon1 Ron | icon2 love poetry | icon4 December 20, 2008 @ 10:15 pm| icon3No Comments »

    Lift your eyes, modest lady.
    Reticent, sidelong
    glances faintly reflect
    the direction of your
    Concealed intent -
    to lure or reject.

    Raise your skirt, modest lady.
    Reveal your
    lovely milky thigh,
    not enough to show
    your secrets, just enough
    To tease my eye.

    Beneath your chaste mantle,
    what wasted beauty
    lies unseen, unshown?
    Behind your coy demeanor,
    what joy is lost
    we both might have known?

                              rlkilgore