Category Archives: Love

Anna Karenina

You were no Eve of Russian literature

like Pushkin’s precious Tatyana.

You were no young, innocent, provincial girl

seduced by cynical Onegin, that bon vivant

corrupted by modern European values.

You were no mysterious Russian soul

brimful of essential purity and self-sacrifice –

with a love of pain and pure disdain of happiness.


Tatyana resisted all temptation, refusing

to take flight, rejecting the man she loved.

She was too good to be true; but you, Anna

what a pickle you got yourself in, choosing erotic sin.

You could share an affair with dashing Vronsky

elope with him and leave behind your husband

abandon your beloved son, Alexei.


But these were not the dreadful choices

sealing your tragic fate, my dear Anna.

It was those damned feelings you chased

all based on the sin of selfishness.

You fed on romance, passion and desire.

Your hot-hunger was insatiable, a fire

rip-roaring through restraint and all decorum

You sweated and panted wild for orgasm.


They say you’re a ‘drama queen’; heartless and mean

a woman undone by excess, always longing to undress

nakedly making grand errors of judgement.

By ignoring Tatyana’s fine example, you certainly forgot

there will always be those who tot up the ledger.

Your blood debt was owing, it had to be paid.


You saw the light at the end of the tunnel –

cool down, Anna, let the raw feelings subside

be watchful, wary and ever-ready to step aside

let the moments of  menace and gloom drain –

it might just be an oncoming train is due.


© M.L.Emmett 2016

greta garbo anna k 4

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Filed under Death, Family, Grief, Love, Poem, sadness

Devotion ~ For Molly ~

There cannot ever be, for me

an emotional peak so high

and beyond all other experience

so much my own, entirely.

A speechless secret, my unsaid words

preserving its wonderful wholeness

the not-telling, keeping it so precious

too precious for me, I fear, to shatter

the silence of its perfection.


The blood bond between us

holds no hidden barriers

in this amniotic floating universe

shock-absorbing all the outer world

nutrient rich, nourishing your growth.

My voice vibrating, rippling

in your sonic breathless bubble.

My body, in all its actions

and motions, marking your time

rolling and turning your shaping.


Your rhythm pressing my organs

punching and kicking, demanding space

Immersed in my body’s womb-core

snuggling safe and deeply nestled

in our sheer and utter intimacy.

I give you all I’ll ever have

my blood, my breath, my everything

beyond all my knowing and imagining

this is a devotion most terrible and sublime.


© M.L.Emmett 2016

Cavity Chaos laser light


Filed under Anatomy & Physiology, Family, Feminism, Hope, Love, New Child, Poem

In the Bluebell Wood

26th April 2007, my father’s 77th birthday
between 0100hrs & 0945hrs, my brother died.

So you were backed into a corner
the one where honour meets death
and by the light of a crescent moon
you gently eased the black hose
between the exhaust pipe
and the passenger windows
air gaps stuffed
with a Christmas scarf
of creamy cashmere wool
sealing your coffin of a car

Seat back flat you lay
watching the drifting clouds
of your last Spring night
you heard the haunting calls
from Rotherfield woods
saw the blink of the bat’s wing
on the edge of sight
heard the hoot of white faced owl
jarring the quiet night
and the gentle rumble
of the old Renault’s engine

That single molecule of Oxygen
locked you away
from fresh life breath
the steady pulse of the motor
rocking you asleep.

Bluebell dancing morning
sweet scented and warm
two ladies out riding
find you alone and hiding
from the day.

© M.L.Emmett

Bluebells in Greys Court 2


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Filed under Death, Grief, Love, Poem

Sea Loving

bodies-entwined amy goddard

When we are making love –
mouth, breast, chest and sweat
genitals joined in circles and loops
of whole bodies – curlicues

coming together, joining
land edge and sea rush
tidal, our vast ocean.

After, we drift away in our minds
our flesh still held hostage
still, our bodies linger close

until the whole earth is silent
and we quietly release each other
becoming two selves, flat on the sheet

skin, side by side beating with heat
sharp and tingling
with the taste of salt.

We are all made of water…


Filed under Love, Poem

Karen Black ~ A Villanelle

My partner has a crush on Karen Black
He watches every movie and repeat
Anyone would wonder what they lack

As actors go, she surely is a hack
but “A Trilogy of Terror” is his treat
My partner has a crush on Karen Black

It’s not as if she has a fulsome rack
But something stirs his blood to boiling heat
Anyone would wonder what they lack

I dream of Idris Elba in the sack
Sheer perfection wrapped naked in a sheet
But my man has his crush on Karen Black

Her voice so harsh the underground would frack
Split layers of the earth beneath our feet
Her smiling face would every mirror crack

Despite all this, she seems to have the knack
To entice and tease every man to cheat
My partner has a crush on Karen Black
It makes me wonder what it is I lack

Karen Black & terror Doll






© M.L.Emmett 2015


Filed under Humour, Love, Poem, Poetry Form

Sonnet II ~ Fifty Seven Winters

knight in shining armour









Fifty Seven winters besieged your brow
gouging deep ruts in your beauty paddock
Quick witted armoury surrendered now
sparking like the neurons of a haddock
The Celtic black hair so thick and so strong
Now salt and peppered grey and sparsely thin
And where has that fiery tempered man gone ?
My one time brave and fearless larrikin
You’d take up the cudgels, face any fight,
survive any skirmish, stoush or battle
Your banner unfurled for the good and right
But these days, nothing your cage can rattle
Arise my champion you are not too old
A thousand warm nights before you grow cold.

First published in THE MOZZIE,Volume 14, Issue 6, July 2006

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Filed under Humour, Love, Poem, Poetry Form, Seasons, Time

Sonnet CXXX ~ My Lover’s Eyes










My lover’s eyes no longer navy pools
bleached paler by years of beating sun
His nose over facial dominion rules
and skin with liver spots is overrun
A dandelion man, confused and tall,
a long thin stem and a puff of white hair
Unsteady gait, joints need an overhaul
the crack and creak of cartilage wear
His views are fixed and often dogmatic
expressed in cold voice with power and force
He never cares to be diplomatic
preferring a more a belligerent course
Yet, he is my love and ever shall be
as long as the tides rush in from the sea.

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Filed under Love, Poem, Poetry Form, Time