For the love of my life

If I could write you,
I’d make you vast and strong with legs of oak
I’d rumple your leaves with a playful stroke
I’d plant you at the edge of a forest, overlooking the field
You’d watch me collect poppies as I skipped along.
There you’d root, tall and strong, and the birds filling
your head with song
I’d bow and curtsey and drop to my knees
For I’d have no-one but myself to please
And I would worship
the ground on which you did not walk.
I’d climb into your arms, hug you tight
Your rough bark against my cheek
I’d smile and sigh as the birds
built a nest
for me to sleep

I’d feel your soul arise
like music inside me

“no being, no nonbeing”

and after we’d had enough,
laughing we’d map

the stars within 

your branches.




Nts: 21:09-21:33-22:20 inspired by the writing exercise at the bottom of this guest post on Louis’s blog: – ‘My challenge to you . . . Rewrite this post in your own words. Describe your, “who, what, why, when, and where” of writing and what each of these means to you.’ (Jenny Knipfer). Didn’t mean to write this… but it’s what came out when I started typing.

Nadine inhales & exhales words & images from current vantage point in Zone of Emptiness, France. Thank you for reading. ❤︎ —


21 thoughts on “For the love of my life

    1. My dear, wonderful friend, thank you so much for this… but I will now be scorchingly honest, at the usual risk of exposing unattractive parts of myself. In this poem, there is as much dark, as light… because I explore my selfish desire to be desired, but not entrapped; to love, and be loved, but without my love/r having any power over me; here, in this vision, I am mobile, while my depicted true-love is not… but yes, you’ve perceived also, I think, that I crave a spiritual kind of love, which perhaps (as you I think indicate) is the most solid and beautiful in terms of exceeding time or matter; however, I also here in some way (and in the moment of this writing only, perhaps, ahem) crave a physical kind of love, and yet deny it, or at least, the mobile reciprocation of it, and/or the sexuality of it, which is certainly, at some level, selfish, as well as perhaps immature. This is the dark-and-light theme I explored within myself in this piece.

      Your comment means a lot to me, it has given me the chance to express myself more blatantly about this poem’s true meaning, which I somehow have craved to do since I wrote it. 🧐🤓 Thank you Rachel, for taking the time to read and remark on my older work, your attention is such a gift, and I truly appreciate it.

      This comment feels scary to hit “send” on, but, in our recent joint tradition, also in emails… yep, hitting it. 🙌👯‍♀️🌸

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Wow, Nadine. I reread your poem with this explanation in mind, and it adds so much more depth and understanding to it. It makes me love the poem even more. The ability to be sexually free, to choose, to be in control while still being adored and desired by a true love, steady and strong, roots firmly anchored in the ground. The decadence of that position. I hope I understood this correctly!! I love your honesty with this, as all of us have lightness and darkness within, and often we feel unable to express that, like it’s somehow means something other than we are just human.

        Wonderful my friend, keep hitting the post button!! ❤️💜❤️💜

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Yes, that’s it… I did wish for that, and still do at times. But, hopefully not at the expense of another’s mobility. In that case, loving a tree is in fact best. 😉🙏🌱😆

          Liked by 1 person

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