Spell of Love

Seasounds at Fanore, Co. Clare

February always brings me to love poetry and this is a poem that I hold very dear.


If, at your desk, you push aside your work,
Take down a book, turn to this verse,
and read that I kneel here, pressing
my ear where on your chest the muscles
arch as great books part, in seagull curves,
bridging the seasounds of your heart,

and that your hands run through my hair,
draw the wayward mass to strands
as flat as scarlet silk-thread bookmarks,
and stroke my cheeks as if smoothing
back the tissue leaves from chilly,
plated pages, and pull me near

to read my eyes alone, then you shall see,
silvered and monochrome, yourself,
sitting at your desk, taking down a book,
turning to this verse, and then, my love,
you shall not know which one of us is reading,
now, which is writing, and which written.

Kate Clanchy

(Source: Staying Alive, edited by Neil Astley, 2002: Bloodaxe Books).

Perhaps you’d care to tell me about your favourite love poem/s. 

Kiss ~ Gatherings from Ireland # 169

Garrarus Beach, Co. Waterford



‘Kiss ’til later,’ you send.
Can later be forever,
a kiss
without an end?

Kiss like waves greet the sand
as the
stretches towards waiting land.

Kiss like the sun on scorching
warming the soil
through nature’s haze.

Kiss like the wind
within our wood,
caressing fresh leaves
and each tiny bud.

Kiss like the moon, young and fresh,
crescent shaped
and inviting a

Kiss like the blazing fire of gorse
defying each season –
stream defining its course.

(Jean Tubridy)

Poetry in Motion ~ Gatherings from Ireland # 67

Spring Buds on Rose ‘Poetry in Motion’

I remember talking to someone years ago about ‘Love’s young dream’  and being caught on the hop with her response, ‘Oh, you mean Love’s old hat …..’   I certainly realised then that  Love has different guises and I’ve been keeping an eye out for them ever since as well as being rocked all over the place by many of them as I’ve travelled through life.

So, that’s the background to the theme of a Poetry Gathering which I was initiated on my poetry thread on the Linkedin Group: TED ~ Ideas Worth Spreading. The thread has been weaving since September 2011 and I’ve written about it here before:


This Love Gathering ran from midnight on Valentine’s Day to midnight last night.

I wondered was I kinda stretching it by extending it beyond the confines of Valentine’s Day and running it beyond rather than before the day that is so associated with Love.

Well, let me tell you, it was quite an experience with love of all descriptions being raised by people from all round the world through the works of published poets who have been writing about love forever, it seems.

This morning, though, there a sense of being totally buoyed up by the power and passion of the whole thing but also severe withdrawals.  So, let me bring you one of the poems that  emerged in the course of the few days. It’s by the wonderfully talented Michael Donaghy (1954-2004), who was born into an Irish family in New York and later moved to Britain where he was a key part of the poetry scene and of a number of Irish music groups:

 The Present 


Michael Donaghy 

For the present there is just one moon, 
though every level pond gives back another. 

But the bright disc shining in the black lagoon 
perceived by astrophysicist and lover, 

is milliseconds old. And even that light’s 
seven minutes older than its source. 

And the stars we think we see on moonless nights 
are long extinguished. And, of course, 

this very moment, as you read this line, 
is literally gone before you know it. 

Forget the here-and-now. We have no time 
but this device of wantonness and wit. 

Make me this present then: your hand in mine, 
and we’ll live out our lives in it.