‘Miss’ – A Poem By CP

by Sep 16, 2017Testimonials0 comments



Thirty-five days of summer
Have so quickly bustled past
As reckoning day arrives
And attendance is confirmed

Cocksure confidence is gone
Slowly evaporated
Defeated by time’s seepage
Accountability hurts

Collected and collated
Ticket, off-peak, day return
Journal, pen, laptop, wallet
Courage, disgrace, excuses

Travel plans, due north-west
Sixty-seven miles by road
And yet further still by train
Prolonging the agony


Just an hour, tick, bloody, tock
Longest, slowest, shuffling mile
Imagined scenarios
And rehearsed conversations

Estate, street, alley, arch, door
Her domain hoves into view
Tension climbs, soars, disables
Leaden feet, and trembling limbs

Don’t be early, don’t be late!
Hands slide over textured black
Fingers caress matt silver
Two carefully measured taps

Breathless anticipation
Heart, restless and galloping
Stomach pit turning, churning
Yearning for her attention


She hears, seconds become hours
Her muted, muffled approach
Metallic, click, slide, rattle
Opening, slow, revealing

Smouldering, tumbling tresses
Scarlet, vermillion, blood-red
Eyes, azure, ice blue, piercing
Frozen captive in their gaze

Calm, control, tea and reflection
My deepest thoughts, fears, laid bare
Confession and contrition
Prelude to the main event

Ascent, familiar room
I wait, time is standing still
She is here, but silence reigns
Nothing else exists, matters


For a while, I belong to her
There is no alternative
Honesty, trust, absolute
Nakedness and submission

Her theatre, arena and stage
Composer and conductor
Orchestra and instruments
For a single spectator

Shuffling, shifting awkwardly
In the spotlight of her glare
Ice, fire, passion overture
The performance has begun

Symphony of ecstasy
High and low notes, tones precise
Phrases pauses, repeated
And breathing to their rhythm


Wave after wave, loud crashes
Silent interludes tumbling
High-intensity building
Striking impact and effect

Percussive final movement
A thrashing wild crescendo
Convulses, sighs, writhes and flies
And ends, satisfied and spent

The palette of an artist
Purple, red, lines and designs
Slowly, lovingly, layered
On the barest white canvas

Comfort, care, gentle release
Milky balm, soft, tender touch
Slow descent from heady heights
To her welcoming embrace.


I hold a little too long
Squeeze her a little too hard
Breathe deep of her fragrant musk
I just want the clock to stop

Cleanest slate, brightest colours
Richest sounds, highest high
Elation beyond compare
Sweetness of absolution