Hybrid

Reserved

My poem written, but reserved,

unfit for public facing space -

too honest, bout entanglements,

which caused admiring love to grow;

I’d not offend by baring truth.

So sadly reckoning defies

a celebration, love defined,

for Valentine was martyred too;

though tempting to rehearse that verse,

such fragile can’t be sacrificed.

Identity, faith, politics,

with gender, nationality,

are sensitive in families,

more so if God thought on one side;

inheritance can be a curse.

I’ll take the stanzas, excise three,

so risk acceptable to me

and her, with family in tow,

though hope unseen, majority -

like cards, our anniversaries.

Hybrid

My follies clear, you knew, day one,

outspoken ’fore my mind in gear.

The craic, your chat, my ignorance,

your nursing through The Troubles’ days;

so for that I love you.

Your banter, wit, sharp repartee,

word swordplay with the rapier.

Quick fired response, pretend insult,

for Irish bog twit, English pig;

so for that I love you.

Your termed endearments, met with frost,

romance maintained, pragmatic me.

My floral bundles from crem skip -

why waste the blooming tributes laid?

So for that I love you.

We need small care for words we speak

for know you’ll ever stand by me.

As being, complementary

reflects the motive why you share;

so for that I love you.

Where bullets, bombs, you bandaged wounds,

then midwife through to hospice care.

From cradle, grave you dared to serve,

apprentice for retirement plan;

so for that I love you.

Good neighbour to surrounding sick,

efficient admin, village, church.

artistic skill in needlework,

bleu cook of health ingredients;

so for that I love you.

You’re fellow journeyman in love,

objecting, though, this culture. male.

I like your stance, firm stand you take,

for woe betide bloke dominance;

so for that I love you.

My diagnosis meant stillborn

your bucket list, that global cruise.

Swapped deck-stripes for that wheelchair push,

as both in step near fifty years;

so for all I love you.