Lovers and Others

Poet Diane Kemp invites you to share the emotions of her poetry, from pain to triumph, from heartbreak to joy, from fear to promise....

LOVERS AND OTHERS                    Click here to print the poems in this category
Silk Purse Poems by Diane Kemb, a collection of poetry for you to enjoy! Warm Friends and Candles
Silver Girl
Lonely Shadow
The Mountain
Dimanche, le 21 février

Warm friends and candles

Inviting me to shed the bothers of my mind

To be with peace

Safe from disquiet images

Of the encircling world.


And in our ease

Weave pleasant thoughts and tales

With hope and gentle animation.

Dec. 73


So much your own person

And such humility

       Strong brisk strokes and brilliant colours

                          A butterfly’s wing,

Elegant with the secret of knowing

     Wise unfaltering willow

Agelessly at peace with man’s universal fate

And a smile that breaks

           Like an innocent sunrise

                    Onto a summer’s morning.

July 73


He loiters

At the edges of my world

In shadows.

At times

I catch him watching

Furrow brow’d

Mulling lonely thoughts

Before he turns and pales into the grey.

Dec. 74


Highlights of a warm and amber evening

Gleam yellow bright.

You left me thoughts that warm

My coldest days.

Your leaving is the longest thing I’ve wept


Now I’ve wept it dead

There’s only left

The soft remembrances.

You found me

Living happiness and planning dreams.

Hand on my arm

You bid me stay awhile.

Your smile was strong

And for a time we played a light flirtation

Before I turned about my dreams.

As I embarked

Your smile and touch remained

For when I stepped away you pressed your love

Into my hand and bid me

Hold it gently all the way to Samarkand

And home again

To you.

My days were joyful

As I bounced along

And laughed.

Each thought, each view was coloured

With your presence.

The Thames reflected back your smile.

The streets of London

Sang the wildest harmony to counterpoint

The sweetness of my agony

Expecting word from you.

And then word came

Of course,

Of course it came;

Your writing strong and vital as your touch.

There is a spot on Cheyne Walk

That I call paradise;

That’s where I read the first

Of all your love

That’s where the street is stained

With one great shining tear

Of happiness.

My letters back were light

With joy of growing expectation.

And tho’ your mail was sure

I’d entertain disaster fantasies

Part fear

Part thrill.

You followed me to Regensburg and Zell Am See

Bukhara, Tashkent, Samarkand

Galway, Chelsea, Liverpool

And finally the road turned back

Turned back again,

Turned back to you.

The five day trip was all on edge

One long preoccupation.

Too much.

Too much to see you standing there.

They made us wait so long to disembark.


Your arms your eyes your


Swept aside all fantasies and dreams.

And thus a smiling idyll

As we climbed our alpine meadow

Intent upon perfection’s height - love's consummation.

We camped

Beside a freshening glacial stream

And played on our delight


With each mountain flower the fullness

Of our long awaited spring.

The sun was ours and ours

The moon;

The moon we watched until the rise of dawn

Urged us to happy sleep.

Our busy days were lit with love;

The nights

Were ours to build and dream and celebrate.

I cheered the mountain and the glacier

And the freshening stream

And tho’

At times with worry in your eyes

I’d find you gazing at the glacier

I’d laugh,

“All nature is our friend,”

I’d sing.


Months were spent with every morning fresher

Than the alpine dew

And every evening warm

And happy on our mountainside.

One night my dreams were troubled

And the air seemed cold.

I woke at dawn with stabbing pains of fear.

The early sun

Half hidden by a bank of clouds

Marked where the glacier had broken


And while we’d slept

Had swept you from my side.


I haven’t seen you since.

And tho’ I’ve searched

I always knew the glacier

Had truly taken you



Along each painful step

That took me down the mountain

The stream no longer freshened to the thirst

But chilled

And set my body quivering.

Between each stride

I felt for life

Some sign

Within the ghost, the cold remains of spirit

That had soaked the sun for months;

The spirit was a wisp of hopelessness.

Finally I reached the bottom

The very bottom.

I  sat.

I let the fog of months roll past


Living only of my pain.

The seasons turned unnoticed in the shadowed quiet

Of my empty valley.

The passing seasons

now have grown to years.

The fog is rare.

The sun is usually warming.

Now often in the quiet of an evening

I  look

And see a glint of sunset

Casting highlights

On our mountainside.

                                                                                                Diane Kemp

                                                                                                September  75

dimanche, le 21 février

Tristesse sur ton visage

le gris des teintes subtiles,

Se marient en douceur

Le rire joyeux,

La perte

Et manque de coeur autour,

Chansons de la sincerité

Tous luisent dans un tranquillité

Reconnaître la vérité

De ce jour au toucher.

Alors, mon être frémait

en amour.

février '81



      That I’ve broken open

                    the chrysalis of life,

       I sit on your fingertip

         My wings still damp,

       Sunning in the wonder of eternity.

       Smile on me,

My mind and my spirit are free !

Nov. 94