ROMANCE

for H B–W

The problem was math. There was one
and another one. There were a dozen
red carnations, but the math
was six candles plus a rose petal bath
and italian food. Two drank champagne

with fifteen oysters in a station bar.
Work out the cost of brief encounters.
If Jack loves Jenny and the obtuse
angle is ninety-seven degrees,
what is the chance of disaster?

Love is the answer. If Heather loves
Chris, then sixteen hands of gloves
and a couple of rings, eighteen doves
and a kiss, or vows are enough.



This poem was created on commission. Commission your own poem here:
http://www.justgiving.com/Gavin-Hudson1

HAPPY ENDING

for AG

The prince and princess were married,
or not married, or married but only by
common-law, and the frog was involved.

They were married by the turkey who lived
on the hill with a ring on his nose at noon,
or midnight. There were stars, or sunshine,

or rainclouds, a hurricane of weather systems
applauding the marriage. They were blanketed
in snow, or swirled in dandelion seeds,

or eidered in down. The frog turned into
a handsome priest when they kissed his frock,
and the dish sloped off with the laughing dog.




This poem was commissioned for charity. You too can commission here http://www.justgiving.com/Gavin-Hudson1

ANTICIPATION

for DS and MH

A balloon trembles at the point

of bursting, champagne corks

unpopped, the bubbles dormant

waiting to be drunk, beer hides

unglugged in pumps unpulled,

unfilled glasses shivering in light

that spills through curtains,

undrawn, to lamps unplugged

and lights unswitched, a bar

unstaffed by men in bowties,

not yet clocked in to sweep

the floor of confettit that remains

unthrown in bags and hands 

that fidget unclapped in laps

of mouths that wait ungasped

for vows and questions still 

unasked, unanswered til an unworn

ring fits the unmarried finger

of a now married man, understand

then and only then they can