Love is.....

on Friday, February 09, 2007


Love is but just a word that signifies a state of being,
Not a physical reality but a feeling that is fleeting.
Just chemicals in our blood that send our senses reeling
Its hormones and pheromones to which we are reacting.

The purpose of the bond, is for the sake of reproduction.
It’s sex and not love that drives the species propagation.
Your heart may grow fond, but its just a chemical reaction.
Love is nothing more than a tool in the course of evolution.

A mother’s sacrificial love, which we elevate as pure,
Is but a selfish act and nothing, nothing more.
A mother’s driven to protect her offspring, sure.
But it’s to protect her genes, that she does it for.

For Science when applied with all brains and no heart
It cannot understand, cannot measure, quantify nor even start,
In a world of logic and sense, love has no part,
It needs to run free, chose its own master, follow its own path.

There is no reasoning for the choices Love makes,
For it might find beauty in what others see misshaped,
Looking beyond skin and physique, the soul it celebrates
It reaches far beyond just the need to succeed, to pro-create.

A mother is justly proud of children strong and smart,
Yet the weakest and the smallest also shares in equal part,
The love that she can give, the strength that she imparts,
To see them through shattered dreams and broken hearts.

A man and a woman with a lifetime to share,
Have hopes and dreams and a plan to get there,
Yet illness may shatter plans, and one may need care.
Love keeps the other willing to serve, cherish and bear.

The mysteries of Love continue to unfold
Why some lovingly raise another’s child as their own
Taking on problems, many would wish to forgo
It’s not about selfish genes, unlike what we’ve been told.

As we transverse across the tapestry of time
An amazing love will like occasional jewels shine.
The ultimate sacrifice, the fate of two lives entwined,
One giving that the other may live, a mirror of love divine

How then do we measure Love’s length, breadth and height
Or give account of its strength and might.
It is from God, to love with His love, to see with His sight,
A gift that allows man to rise up into the light.


This is my second poetry posting. With Valentine's Day round the corner, I have chosen "Love" as the theme; but it is love viewed through the eyes of a scientist and the heart of a believer. My inspiration has been the stories of strength, joy and struggle that have been found on many of the blogs that I visit. Thank you.

7 comments:

Tai said...

My goodness LGS...you are a poet of merit, I think.

What a beautiful poem, very interesting to have it start clinically and end emotionally and spiritually.

...Kat said...

for the most beautifully written poems of love I will send you along to my favorite poet...
Edna St Vincent Millay.

Becky Wolfe said...

Beautiful insight here. Interesting circle of thoughts in this poem all of which hold measures of truth.
Very beautifully written.

Janice said...

What an amazing poem LGS! You have covered every area with concise understanding. I thoroughly enjoyed the scientist's point of view coupled with the human heart's view. Excellent writing!

Lone Grey Squirrel said...

tai,
my goodness, thank you.

You might have guessed that I'm schizo in that I both elevate and decry the logical mind, kinda like a Vulcan poet.

kat,
I looked Edna up but she was prolific, having written about 170 poems. Read a few but perhaps you had one or two special ones in mind?

becky,
Thank you for your encouragement. It turned out better than I had dared hoped.

janice,
thank you very much for your exceedingly kind words. I only play at writing poetry. I'd appreciate tips from those with more experience like you.

...Kat said...

There ARE so many but get a complete edition (from a library) and focus on her sonnets.

one that I accidently memorized I will write here and now and from memory but not with all the proper puncuations etc...

time does not bring release you all have lied
who told me time would ease me of my pain
I miss him in the weeping of the rain
I want him at the shrinking of the tide
the old snows melt from every mountain-side
and last year's leaves are smoke in every lane
but last year's bitter loving must remain heaped upon my heart and the old thoughts abide
there are a hundred places where I fear to go
so with his memory they brim
and entering with relief some quiet place
where never fell his foot nor shone his face
I say there is no memory of him here
and so stand stricken so remembering him.

Lone Grey Squirrel said...

kat,
first of all, thanks for sharing the poem and from memory...wow!

Secondly, it is indeed a great poem and keeps me humble in my endeavours. Very poignant indeed.

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