Judith Conroy's Poetry
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He Loves Me
One by one they are picked
He loves me...
He loves me not.
Young women like high priestesses,
sacrifice the flowers for their ritual.
Their words lingering on the breeze
as the soft white petals fall to earth.
He loves me...
He loves me not.
The humiliated flower, naked
without its petal gown is dropped.
Signs of disappointment and start over
Hoping this time will produce the answer desired
He loves me...
He loves me not...
He loves me...
Under the Stars
I want to take you,
Want to kiss you beneath the stars tonight
I want to hold you close to me
And make it alright.
I want to lead you,
Out beneath the moon tonight
I want our bodies to merge
Set our souls alight.
I want to be with you,
There beneath the heavens tonight
Want this night to last forever,
Never see the morning light.
Love Is...
Love is...
the gentlest touch
the sharpest pain
the strongest emotions
the giving of self
Love is...
the racing heart
the bubbling joy
the aching sadness
the gaining of self
Love is...
the sweetest kiss
the endless longing
the warm embrace
the knowledge of somebody else
Love is...
the stirring, soothing,
writhing, calming
restless, exhilerating
growth of the soul
Love is all.
Love is.
Saviour?
If I jumped
Would you catch me?
Or simply watch me fall?
If you saw I was in over my head
Would you throw me a lifeline?
Or observe from a distance as I floundered
And drowned?
Saying "there was nothing to be done"
And "you knew it would come to this"
If I was close to the brink
Would you reel me back in?
Or give me that final push
To tip me off balance
To send me over the edge?
If I needed you
Would you welcome me?
Or push me aside for 'later'?
If I came to you,
Would you be my saviour?
Would you Love me?
All poetry on this page is copyright Judith Conroy.
Did you enjoy the poems? Would you like to publish any of them?
Then perhaps you can spare a little time to complete the comments form
or email Judith at spanglyjude@hotmail.com?
To return home, follow the owl!
