Last Night (Love Poem)

All through the night she keeps you awake.

Her skin so soft as she sleeps in your arms,
Her breath so quiet as you hold her tight,
Her scream of pleasure as you come as one,
Her body on fire as you climb the hill,
Her heart beats fast with rhythm of love,
Her gasps of pleasure as you slip inside,
Her lips so hot as you kiss her so hard,
Her breasts so perfect in the act of love,
Her desire so strong as you feel her wet,
Her passion so wild as she strips for you,
Her love so perfect as you look in her eyes,
Her beauty so radiant as she smiles hello.

All through the night you remember last night.

poem by Ian Beckett
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Remembering (Love Poem)

Love is so easy, remembering is so good.
I forget the world every time I am alone
With you in the companionship of silence.
What do you think, where will I go now?
Staring into the blue ocean of your eyes.

Love is so short, remembering is so sharp.
I forget everything but you in my dreams
Without you in my empty room tonight.
What do you dream, where do you go now?
Staring at two ceilings across two oceans.

Love is so full, remembering is so complete.
I forget all but your gentle magic touch,
Without you my world could not turn.
What do you feel, where do we go now?
Staring at the deep ocean of our love.

poem by Ian Beckett
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Prison (Life Poem)

If you feel imprisoned today,
In factory, office, school,
With woman, parent, child,
Just the groundhog day of life.

These words can set you free
From your private prison cell –

You can walk along the shore,
With sand between your toes,
And salt-caked cracking lips.

You can fly a million miles,
With sea below and stars above,
And wind-watered streaming eyes.

You can be your inner self,
With dreams and touch of love,
And razor-sharp passions edge.

[...] Read more

poem by Ian Beckett
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BA Business Class (Life Poem)

Neighbours resent the forced eye-contact intimacy,
Seat barrier raised despite friendly pre-flight hello,
Too English to be happy, too weird to be interesting,
Smiling Simon says, “Nice to have you, with us, Sir”.

Irish Grubeen, Mature Scottish Cheddar after dinner,
The port on London to Miami is strangely Stiltonless,
Scottish Tracy saves the day with First Class foray,
Admits she is a Lockerbie lass with nerves of steel.

Captain Lightfoot lands this little piece of England,
More gently than his movie namesakes ever could.
I count 55 Miami immigration stamps in my passport,
Maybe yoga would make this commute more fun.

poem by Ian Beckett
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Big Brother (Life Poem)

I see the green grass with autumn leaves
The season of change and naked trees arrives
Again – without thinking we see the continuity
Knowing Christmas is around the corner
The birth New Year starts the cycle
After the death of the old year
And some of our past friends
Whose passing was real
Too real for
Comfort.
How
Do
We
“Know”
What is real
When everything
From movies to magic
Is just imagery of imagination?
The TV a parade of our new enemies.
1984 “Big Brother” is now a reality show

[...] Read more

poem by Ian Beckett
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Flash (Life Poem)

The moment of capture frozen, red-eyed, real
The playing of children free, magic, mud-filled
The conundrums of youth Beboed, carefree, cool
The adventures of travel, pink, tanned, taciturn
The history of love smiling, promising, pleasures
The marriage of minds trusting, glowing, giving
The responsibility of two eager, anxious, angry
The coldness of career tough, real, redundant
The birth of babies screaming, fragile, forever
The parties of New Year old, new, necessary
The death of life tearful, premature, passive
The optimism of hope fresh, green, growing
The world of pictures captured, mirrored, mine
The memory of forever posed, startled, stunned

poem by Ian Beckett
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Driving To Dargaville (Life Poem)

Sunday-empty Auckland my pre-breakfast escape,
Sheep-spotted mountains in early morning mist,
Whangarei marina for a cauldron of cappuccino.
Shop of metal sheep starts a day of Kiwi weirdness,
Of customer requesting glassblowing lessons, and
“All Blacks” silk boxers, unworn by players I hope.

Driving to Dargaville for Mr. M. Ujdur museum treat,
That late gum-digging, Esperanto teaching, vintner.
Beside a colossal collection of accordions with muzak,
Playing an instrument-impossible Whiter Shade of Pale,
Plus coins and buttons and stamps and Scotsmen,
Left feeling stunned, like I was tripping on acid.

The possum cull with prizes seemed almost normal.

poem by Ian Beckett
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To Be (Love Poem)

Sometimes it’s hard to be apart
Sometimes it’s hard to be brave
Sometimes it’s hard to be cold
Sometimes it’s hard to be daring
Sometimes it’s hard to be early
Sometimes it’s hard to be friends
Sometimes it’s hard to be good
Sometimes it’s hard to be happy
Sometimes it’s hard to be in-love
Sometimes it’s hard to be just
Sometimes it’s hard to be kind
Sometimes it’s hard to be lovely
Sometimes it’s hard to be mellow
Sometimes it’s hard to be nasty
Sometimes it’s hard to be out
Sometimes it’s hard to be poor
Sometimes it’s hard to be quiet
Sometimes it’s hard to be ready
Sometimes it’s hard to be simple

[...] Read more

poem by Ian Beckett
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Love Time (Love Poem)

Time passes in a mystery of minutes and months,
Days and nights a survival of solitude and sleep,
Life and living becomes an unending wait for Now.

Now is just a Technicolor rush of with you again,
But our time together always is impossibly short,
So that leaving you again gets harder every time.

Why is time a new variable with the one I love?
Why are the colours of love so warm for us now?
Why do Cupid’s arrows still draw blood so red?
Why are grey days bright and rainy days soft?
Why after all these years do I feel like this?
Why is time with you in too-short seconds?

If only our love stopped the earth turning,
We could love in a frozen second of time,

Forever.

poem by Ian Beckett
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Across the Universe (Life Poem)

1,000 miles from the Merry Christmas muzak in Port Moresby
Fat Brisbane taxi philosopher’s poor mouth moaning season
Navan road Sydney AMEX girl pining for the cold in Dublin
Along with traditional stuffing of turkey ham and trimmings.

10,000 miles to London via sticky Bangkok “Merry Clistmas”
And cattle class envy of First class lounge showers mid-flight
But Jetlag is the same nightmare at both ends of the plane
As we fly across the universe to be home for Christmas.

1,000,000 people flying to their friends and families
Do all those sad, glad, bad, mad once-a-year reunions
Make it to Happy New Year without killing each other
Resolving to be prosperous, viceless and happy again?

poem by Ian Beckett
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