London.  I crave the capital of my Island jewel.  I am too far now from cream teas, steak and oyster pie.  Oh London and the Home Counties I miss you with all my aching heart.

I am tired of selfish boys.  Tired of his jet-black hair.   Tired of waiting.  Tired of mistress censorship.

I want to see Amanda, Tim and banter; with Simon Finch and hold my nose in the air.

I want to stroll down Old Bond St in my red suede boots, visiting Patrick in Hanover Square.

I want to smoke cigarettes in West London with Katrina.  Let me ride horses in Hyde Park with Martha; explore electrical hardware stores with Toby and Arthur.  Clandestine giggles with Joe and Adam and Eve, cottage amusements with George.

The train to Bromley and Chatham through the Garden of Eden.  Where the Thames meets the Medway and the Swale beyond.

I am tired of you because I don’t trust you, but I know very well what it is to lie to some one you say that you love.  To meet in some dark, wet guinnel, to feel your warm body under your navy blue coat.   To feel your lips and always your lips.

Oh I miss you so much my darling hometown, and wish you invited me Whitstable style.   Up on the downs overlooking the sea.  Turbines, the horizon that chased me away.   I have arrangements with banks to consider and beg that homeland security take me away so decisions are easier where no choice is to stay.  Wholesale foreclosure, redistribution of wealth.

Take me.  Take me away.

I am tired of selfish boys with raven black hair and myself in every one of them.   Just you.  I met just you.

Let me forget these people, struggling with prosperity and stemming the tide.    Seeking solution and tanning the hide.  Let me go home. Let me go home.  The 12 step recovery clichés that keep me in purgatory with less time to go than one hundred years of perfect sobriety.  Oh please send me home to smoky church halls and WI and no multi-malls.  Remind me of jet beads stitched onto her bodice, of peplums and bagels and tottenham forest.

I am TIRED of you showing me men that are hot, hotter than me or you for that matter.  I am tired of boasting to keep us alive, to stimulate interest and punish my precious child.   I am naked before you my darling creator.  This and more like it is all I can offer.

So take me away with you darling Ophelia on the Thames and the Medway and the Swale far beyond.

13 replies on “LOVE POEM”

Lovely. I love to read your art. I have always wanted to know if the photos you post are taken by you. If so you have a keen eye with the camera.

isn’t it upending to know that so many, many people adore you and love you in their own way, although, like me, i imagine some of us don’t actually know you, and yet even as the center of all of the adoration you feel alone so much of the time. i wish i had a remedy for that feeling since i am experiencing something similar. i have had an immense amount of love extended to me as i’ve been going through the most bizarre experience of my adult life in the past 15 years. i have been put on administrative leave from my job as a 2nd grade teacher. i never, ever touched a child or hurt a child in any way, let me make that clear, but i have been cycling in my bi-polar shite and someone who hasn’t known me felt my unconventional-ness, was a concern. anyway. i absolutely thrive with the opportunity to learn along with and to teach my students. i love knowing their parents and their siblings and doing all i am humanly capable of doing to be a good teacher, but last week the stress combined with my disease shot me in the foot, and i talked to my principal about feeling close to the edge, and within days i was out the door being told to rest, relax, and recenter. rest, and relax, i know very, very little about. and i’ve been trying to get centered for a very long time. i love my job too much i think. i’ve been at it a long time. i was the director of a program for 13 years and did mostly administrative duties, but since i have been teaching in the classroom for the past seven years i have truly found my place in the sun. if i am ever having a bad day, i go to work, and the students immediately give me purpose and perspective.
anyway. my darling man is flaxen haired. unavailable. and absolutely the most perfect match i can imagine ever finding. and he’s married. and i’m married. and……………well you get the point.
loving you and following you also helps me get perspective. it helps me feel just a bit less alone.
thank you so much for sharing your life with the masses duncan my darling!

and let me say that i so admire you for the opinions you give to us spoiled Americans. I ABSOLUTELY LOVE AMERICA!!! i am patriotic to the point of ridiculousness. my son has served two tours in Iraq even leaving his pregnant wife to give birth while he was there. when my students pledge to the flag in the morning at school i insist that for that 12 seconds of their lives that they stand with two feet flat on the floor, not leaning on a desk, or playing with anything. 12 seconds of words that don’t mean a whole lot to them………yet!!! they didn’t to me either, but they do now. i value this country with a fervor. i have only lived in italy other than america, so i don’t have a good deal of experience outside of america, but we are losing perspective in this great nation, and i appreciate you being brave enough to point it out. i have never felt you were bashing or unappreciative of this country. just the opposite.
glen beck and rush limbaugh deserve to be put into a 9 x 9 cubicle and forced to converse with one another for about 72 hours straight and whoever is standing last wins a trip far, far away to a country who doesn’t mind having minds like theirs spewing their detritus.

Beautiful! Your poem is so descriptive, it makes me want to move to London. I was struck by the notion, that perhaps it is time for you to have a visit home, or perhaps to move home. You’ve been through so much change in the last few months and that can be exhausting. Just selling your art can be emotionally draining… Perhaps going home for a while will ground you. Go to where the true love and support is…whether that’s in NYC, LA or London. Home is where the heart is… take care of yourself. You deserve it.

You’ve really made us feel your longing in this post. The regret, the nostalgia, all so vivid. I love London too having only visited. I can only imagine what that would be like for a former resident.

Part of it is that feeling of how we can never recapture the beautiful past. We can only remember it while working toward a new, beautiful future.

I couldn’t have said it any better–just how I felt. Hard for me to describe my reaction to the poem as it was instinctive.

I’ve been thinking about this little community that you have created, Duncan, with you at the centre. Comparing it to other relationships and experiences with group therapy. How would we react if we actually met and attempted a conversation?

I love that you love your friends and say so.

Hello Duncan.

I came across your blog doing research for a show about sexual health issues that my company is producing for Discovery Health.

We are looking to profile a male who is dealing with sex addiction. There is no gimmick to the show, we are seeking to depict the struggles of a sex addict.

If you have any interest at all, or know of anyone who might be interested, please contact me via email: [email protected].

Thank you for your time.


I believe you should confront this man in person, without rhyme and give him the 411.

Love is embodied by two people, and comes and goes. It never remains consistant and constant in any relationship.

Compatability and a soul mate are found through growing to love one another after infatuation, and any bump in the road.

We all encountr problems in any relationship. The problems are not mere coincidence though. They snap us back into relaity and allow us to make decisions on wheather people are right for our own lives or just there for that brief time to learn a lesson and build our whole beings stronger in every aspect of life.

You should let this person know how you feel in words instead of rhyme and confront them if you really want to be with them.

Love is always mistaken for something tangible, but instead it comes and goes just like the wind.

In any relationship, love is an emotion each person grows into when they feel comfortable with a person.

When love fades and a relationship ends up having a problem, no matter how significant, it snaps us into reality and allows us to make a decision: Do I want to spend more time with this person and gro to love them, or do I move on and accept the new knowledge to better myself as a person?

It’s up to you to decide.

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