I’ve not the heart to say cliché,
when many speak in shorthand terms
to call, what would, seriously,
be heartfelt, complement to be.
Why is the pulse, a beating pump
found vital as a living word,
despite the ease, half-hearted way,
its usage of the cheaper thrills,
pot-boilers, bodice-ripping spills?
As blood an offering to the gods –
though not for me, such sacrifice –
does God need price to release love? –
yet circulation is the due
for bodies, and communities.
The transplant once thought squeamish deal,
as root and source, in commonweal,
but where that seat of mystery,
and how define beyond explained?
For neither love nor romance found
in body parts, autopsy’s search;
but if for cause, folks lives are laid –
or passion, future seeds are made –
is not that treasure weighed in chest,
aortic, ventricle the valves –
but not best words for Valentine?
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales, UK, from ministry in the Methodist Church, with Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, most recently The Sweetycat Press, The Parliament Literary Magazine, Poetry Potion, Grand Little Things, The Poet Magazine, Stone Poetry Journal.