Cry For Love
These words I write to you
Are nearer to vital truth
Than anything I know:
Clouds pass and I see
The face of love, your face,
Pale and irretrievable
And it agitates my heart
Which has been cleft asunder
Since the day you left me
On the Spanish Steps;
And I am grown old
My passion has been lost; without you,
I need not such ballast for this journey
Here I moor my lonely ship and wander
Ever across the land, murmurin' softly
Love and sorrow, each with arms around me,
Whisperin' as I move along as these tears,
Shaken from mysery bearin' clouds,
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poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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Hold The Heart
Something magical happens
In bein' with a woman
Who can hold the heart and soul
Of an inamorato
Whether tall or short;
With whatever color eyes,
And however long hair;
With cinnamon skin
Or skin that is pale or dark
Something magical happens
Something magical happens
In seein' the lightness
And swiftness of movement
In watchin' her dance
Or ridin' horseback
Or brushin' her hair
In witnessin' her
Fervent attentions
Her ardent advances
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poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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Vacant And Alone
They all go into the dark
The sea lifts and falls
The moon goes on
And the vacant go into the vacant
Shelley wrote:
'Poetry lifts the veil
From the hidden beauty of the world
And makes familiar objects be
As if they were not familiar'
So I pick up my pen and write
Sometimes well, sometimes not
But always well intended
And the veil lifts
But then somethin' turns
Sometimes of a sudden
Sometimes gradually
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poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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My Muse
Come, songwriters, present your best,
And earn a lovely woman's praise;
You singers come, let your voices
Be heard and used well to serve her:
And dance forth, you nymphs and angels;
Wonderful music for my Muse.
Her body is love's paradise,
There are no eyes as bright and true;
She is wiser than the poet,
And fairer than a comely queen:
Yes all perfections do combine
To beautify my mystic Muse.
She's Womans's choicest example,
Where honour, wisdom, wit and wile
Are all united in her heart.
The Graces claim her heritage:
All virtues that are most divine
Surely shine clearest in my Muse.
poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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Numberless Dreams
Wonderful beauty
The curve of her neck
The fullness of her lips
The way her eyes cast
fervent glances
Her hair freshly disheveled
Her furtive smile
The curve from her waist
down to her hips
The fullness of her breasts
The way her legs flash when they move
Her skin flushed. Her body fervid
Reverent hands
Every time he touched her
was like the first time
His hands trembled,
yet moved with purpose
over her body;
gently pushin', pullin'
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poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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Fast or Feast
Dreamed we were in The Court of Two Sisters
The slow green fans turnin' in the courtyard
The green napkins, the waiters all in green
In early afternoon, we ordered a big breakfast
Of eggs with lemon sauce, asparagus, ham,
Toast points, creamed shrimp soup, fruit.
Hot rolls, butter, chickory coffee, dark and bitter
And a Charlotte Russe burstin' with whipped cream
We had our fill and ate till we were full
Breakin' a long fast from food, for the night before;
Walkin' through the Quarter till after midnight
Then feastin' on love till early mornin' breaks
What must happen to make this dream last
For this is the only break from love fastin'
And the only feastin' goin' on
Is a feast of heartbreak
poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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Wayward Dreams
Last night a dream cast a shadow
Over my all too empty bed,
That an angel had lost her way
A wayward woman wanderin'.
Troubled, bewildered, and forlorn,
Dark, confused, weary she appeared
Over many a mumbled word,
Soundin' heart-broke, I heard her say:
‘Oh my wayward dreams! do they cry,
Do they hear their lover sighin'?
Do they not see what we have lost,
Will they not stop and weep for me? '
Her tears fell as I came closer:
I took her hand and drew her near,
And said, ‘Wail not into the night
For your plight and mine are the same.
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poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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Legends, Elegies, Pleasures And Norma Jean
The man who wrote Legends of the Fall
Wrote; 'Don't fall in love as if fallin' off a dock at night'
But when you are struck by the thunderbolt
How do you not fall?
The man who wrote the Duino Elegies
Wrote; 'Beauty is only the start of bearable terror'
But to be stuck without beauty
Is unbearable
The woman formerly know as Norma Jean
Wrote; 'I know from life one cannot love another'
I know what she meant, but to love you
How can I not?
The man who wrote The Pleasures of Hope
Wrote; 'How hard it is to find the one just suited to our mind! '
But it is just a little too easy to find one
Who is ill suited
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poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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These Days
We woke early in the mornin'
I brought her coffee in bed.
We worked out then washed each other
I started writin' on the porch
or in front of the fireplace.
She climbed the stairs to her studio
to create her visions of beauty.
We had lunch. We lay down together.
We rose and worked at other things.
We took long walks in the woods.
We worked again on our visions.
We ate supper, talked, read books
sittin' across from each other
on the porch or in front of the fire.
We went to bed. We loved we dreamed.
In winter she dreamed of flowers,
plannin' refinement of the garden.
From late March into October
she spent hours diggin', applyin'
fifty-year-old Hereford manure
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poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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Without You
Without you,
These feelins persist,
These persistent feelins,
That which was once gained
That which was soon lost
Others sing while I sigh
Others laugh while I weep
I am robbed of rest
Pain lulls me asleep,
Without you,
These moods prevail,
These prevailin' moods,
The voice, hear and obey
Sister to despair
Monarch of the lost
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poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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