Wednesday Poetry: Lomare

Posted on 28/09/2011 by


I didn’t think I’d write you another poem,
not for this occasion, and not for many more.
Maybe in another life, when we both must–
but not now.

Then you went and told me of the roller skates in your childhood:
mud drains, sisters, and gave me a little, younger you.
I have precious insight to your boyhood.
You showed me pictures of the life you had while I was ‘away.’

And nothing would suffice,
but a word in your ear, a whisper and a tickle of breath
an urgent drawing of the love for you, so:

‘scuse, you may’ve a touch spittle in your ear…
that’s not enough.

Damn see? I couldn’t think of a word that wasn’t just a start
for a string of many knots,
each a little tighter, wrapping in my thoughts,
like finger tips through a string.

So I make them.

Desh’tar hare’k. Meslamatae dash en kor.
Maelet nor deesh farab nishtiq. Lam.

Many new words to find that special hint.

Kael tet mare om, dishe tae som-aert mor en.

An open mouth, words spilt.
Sounds to find a clearer purpose.

Doe lem ter methdomesh lomare.


Lomare. Lomare, esh dek Lomare.

So on higher plains the fine reeds grow,
in the soft-heated winds, they whistle low,
yet cut them, bring them down down-down,
not a whisper-bright.

Let them grow, Lomare.

On Dash’s ship, sails set against the sky,
revelry made merry, upon Moon-struck sea.

Summer from spring,
a touch of breath, warm, from mouth to ear;


This birthday, I’ve cut it all,
past discussion, past poetry and motion
–way-past gifts!
I’ll give you a whole new word.

Give it a meaning. Don’t be shy.
It’s eager. It was once mine,
yet I only gave it sound,
the whisper my lips made
as I thought of you, brother,
now it’s to your wisdom–if you will.

Make it magic.



… be seeing you.

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Posted in: Paul, Poetry