My Love Turns Off

My love turns off the radio
She doesn’t watch TV,
She will not listen to the news,
She doesn’t want to see
The awful things that people do,
Depraved humanity,
That’s why she’s smiling all day long,
She leaves the world to me.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

It Is You

O fond remembrance,
Goes here,
With wistful images of childhood,
The lingering sun of spring,
Or perhaps a warm winter fire,
A blackberry bush,
A dog,
Your mother,
Brother,
Other.

Yes, you saw but did not know.
Now you know and see
Through melancholy tint,
In veiled memory.
All your days have come to this,
This enshrined vision of a time,
A day,
Or perhaps a moment,
Goes here,
Your illuminated moment.

O long unrealized realization,
Goes here.
The simple joy,
The profound regret,
Or perhaps both,
And yet,
Something remains,
Something mysterious,
Unspoken yet large,
The lump in the throat,
The wistful tear,
Goes here.

It is you

Who makes this poem,

All the poems you hold near,
It is you.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

My Love Asks Nothing

My love asks nothing of you.
My love is its own reward,
And punishment.

If you do not love me
My love will leave you alone
And I will continue to feel great pleasure,
Great pain.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Our Stories ~ They Will Not Burn

We lost everything in the fire,

Every thing,

All our mementoes,

Our objects,

Each one containing a memory.

So now,

In a dingy room in a dingy motel,

We put the pieces of our lives back together.

We don’t need objects to prompt our memories.

All our memories are ready to be awakened.

And so,

We sit in the dark,

Telling stories,

So many stories.

We could spend the rest of our lives

Telling our stories.

We've already begun.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved