February 2, 2016

Six Poems By David Allen: "Tellin' Ruth Ellen", "As My Love Lay Declining", "Her Legs", "My Love", "Turned Into Us", "You Who"

David Allen is poet and freelance writer living in Central Indiana. He is a retired journalist with 36 years on newspapers in Virginia, and the Far East, the last 19 years as Guam and Okinawa Bureau Chief for Stars and Stripes, the daily newspaper for the American military community overseas. He has been published in several on-line poetry magazines and has two books of poetry, “The Story So Far” and “(more),” both available from Amazon.   He has been married to his Muse, Ruth Ellen, for 27 years.

Tellin’ Ruth Ellen

Ruth Ellen, I’m tellin’
you this is great.
No time for fear,
don’t hesitate.
You gave me a sign,
I gave you a kiss,
I was afraid to believe
It could be like this.

Ruth Ellen, I’m tellin’
you I’m in love.
There, I’ve said it,
is that enough?
You gave me a kiss,
we fell to the ground,
bodies pressed, passion pulsing,
stars swirling around.

Ruth Ellen, I’m tellin’
you what I want
is to freeze time.
Don’t say we can’t.
You gave me believe,
I opened my heart.
If there’s an end to this tale
then, let’s stretch the start.

Ruth Ellen, I’m tellin’
you I feel light,
sure I could fly
if the wind is right.
You gave me all this,
a smile in your eye.
I take it to treasure, no
pretending, no lies.


As My Love Lay Declining

As my love is tied
against the ropes,
the disease delivering
jarring jabs,
but no knockout blows,
I watch outside the ring
observing the slow
destruction of the body
for which I ache.
I want to embrace her,
but she is in the ring
with disease.
The referee, Death,
ignores the headbutting
and blows beneath the belt.
I want to jump into the ring,
to stand in for her,
take it on the chin.
But the best I can do
is wait in her corner
with a bucket of fear
for her to spit in
and a towel of love
to wipe away
the sweat
and tears
and blood.

Her legs go
all the way

That’s all
you need
to know.

My Love

My love is like
the Pacific Sea
from which she draws
her energy.
she embraces me,
until a squall
upsets the peace
and, from above I look in shock
as she dashes herself on the rocks.
This lasts until the winds sweep on
and the sea-soaked land
again greets the sun.
Then the water picks up its old pace
the ebb and flow of
life’s good grace.

Waves, like our love,
rush to the shore
and then retreat
to the sea once more.

Turned Into Us

You took a
of a man
and turned him
into me.

I took you
by the hand
and turned us
into we.

You Who

You, who loving me newness is
I ask nothing more than give
of what you feel and heal this
longing wound which scars my side.
You who loving asks of me
nothing more than patience
(and honesty)
I take with strength and a strange
desire I can’t explain with words
(the poem is not sound enough
and the poet’s out of rhyme).

I, who loving you is wondering
at how this came to be,
would think it was a miracle,

but for the doubt that gnaws
at the base of brain and says,
“do not be fooled again.”

I, who loving you is wandering
with thoughts to rest upon your shore,
would think that this was dangerous
if it were not for moonbeam smiles
that promise me there’s more.

You, who loving me I miss
and sense the deepening of sighs,
must know the tears will pass
and so, too, this vagrant doubt
to rest on yesterday
and bother us no more.

~David Allen

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