Moon + A Love Poem

If I send you to the moon
to capture spectacular Earth’s view
where lovers dance under the moonlight,
will you come back to me?
Because I’ll wait

Not only for your confident hands
guarding my heart
but to feel
your warm skin against mine
as we gently sway to the rhythm

If I send you to the moon
where scattered light delights dancers in love,
Will you come back to me?
Because I’ll wait

Not only to look into your tender loving eyes
making me go weak at the knees
but to whisper
honeyed words residing between two souls

If I send you to the moon
as my awkward gait slows the pace,
Will you come back?
Because I’ll wait

Not only to dance under shadows of the moonlight
but to relive our first long kiss

The beginning of our lifetime pleasure
leisurely dancing under the moonlight

If I send you, 
will you?
Because I’ll wait.

The Moon

note: I wanted to title this post, “My Valentine is Not Cliché” in response to Weekly Scribblings. But you might have already guessed the title of this poem, To the Moon… But, there’s a story behind. Ah, but aren’t there always stories behind poems! I hear you say. Well, perhaps, I’ll share the story one day.

A Short-lived Poetic Romance

One day on my way to the library, I met a boy. The handsome but rather short boy stepped in front of me and smiled. Without any formalities but eye contact, he broke into a performance, and much to the amusement of students who were sitting in the foyer. He was reciting Keats’ Endymion, for me.

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

As a 17-year-old fresher, I stood transfixed with embarrassment and praying for some kind of miracle to save me. After what felt like eternity, he finished reciting, smiled and left. The highly-entertained crowd was still clapping as I, too, continued on my way.

“How did he know Keats was one of my favourites?” Embarrassment turned into excitement, I was flattered by the attention. When I got to the library, I abandoned all intention to study for an exam that was coming up the next day, and instead headed for the poetry section. As I cuddled up with Endymion, I realised he had recited the whole first stanza; 24 lines! I was impressed. And so, ensured the crush on a nameless boy.

Osteospermum / South African daisy

note: I’m in a serious poetry writing funk, right now. I’m writing everything else, but poetry. This makes me feel as unsteady as the ocean. So, I share this piece (an excerpt of a longer essay I wrote to answer why I write poetry) as way to remind myself that (for me) poetry is a spontaneous overflow…I can’t force it.