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Love, Defined

A Poem by:

Anthony Bavin

Colourful Bar


Copyright shall at all times remain vested in the Author. No part of the work shall be used, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the Author's express written consent.

(This poem was written when (in another life, thank God) I was languishing in a drink/drug rehabilitation Clinic. In these places, they have the knack of knocking the psycological skittles of sh*t out of you - and they also have the uncanny knack of breaking relationships. They told me that I didn't love my wife - and I protested greatly. I was left for two days in virtual solitude to reflect on this; and had to ask myself, 'What is love?' The answer I found in the second verse of this, for me, rather overly structured poem; and they were right, of course - for the marriage didn't last.)

But what is love?

We know how it seems;

But can this yearning really be defined?

If that can't be,

Then love is but dreams:

Pastle shades, sweet music of streams,

Soft sounds, with melodies, entwined.


So is this love?

Satisfying your needs;

And mine, thus, being wholly satisfied?

If that is true,

Then love lies in deeds

Of self-sacrifice, made for Love's own need

to be needed - loves search for pride.


So what is hell?

Hell's failing your trust;

And my need to serve you, so, denied!

If I fail you,

Then love lies in dust

Of rejection: My purpose in being,

My need, to be needed, cast aside.


Anthony Bavin
Copyright © 2000

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