Vincent in his chamber untying the leather laces of his shirt

LOVE ...

BECAUSE OF IT

Vincent in his chamber untying the leather laces of his shirt

LOVE … because of it

The new series – Love … Because of It – will illustrate Vincent and Catherine’s more intimate time together, measured in a romantic (gauzy but not overly graphic) way, accompanied by a favored poem. 

(These will be private moments, so scroll on with that awareness!)

The new series – Love, Because of It – will illustrate Vincent and Catherine’s more intimate time together, measured in a romantic (gauzy but not overly graphic) way, accompanied by a favored poem.

 

(These will be private moments, so scroll on with that awareness!)

Flirtation

by Rita Dove

 

After all, there’s no need
to say anything

at first. An Orange, peeled
and quatered, flares

like a tulip on a wedgewood plate
Anything can happen.

Outside the sun
has rolled up her rugs

and night strewn salt
across the sky. My heart

is humming a tune
I haven’t heard in years!

Quiet’s cool flesh –
let’s sniff and eat it.

There are ways
to make of the moment

a topiary
so the pleasure’s in

walking through

Vincent and Catherine in a private moment, Catherine beneath the bedsheet risen to her elbows, Vincent inching closer for a kiss

It Is Here

by Harold Pinter

 

What sound was that?

I turn away, into the shaking room.

What was that sound that came in on the dark?
What is this maze of light it leaves us in?
What is this stance we take,
To turn away and then turn back?
What did we hear?

It was the breath we took when we first met.

Listen. It is here.

Catherine asleep (but with a slight smile on her face), Vincent easing into bed, shirtless, a rose in his hand as he pulls back the covers

Tie Your Heart at Night to Mine

by Pablo Neruda

 

Tie your heart at night to mine, love,
and both will defeat the darkness
like twin drums beating in the forest
against the heavy wall of wet leaves.

Night crossing: black coal of dream
that cuts the thread of earthly orbs
with the punctuality of a headlong train
that pulls cold stone and shadow endlessly.

Love, because of it, tie me to a purer movement,
to the grip on life that beats in your breast,
with the wings of a submerged swan,

So that our dream might reply
to the sky’s questioning stars
with one key, one door closed to shadow.

Catherine and Vincent in a lovers embrace in a bathing chamber. Behind them, the waterfall, the bathing pool. Vincent is on his knees, Catherine pulled close.

Assurance

by Emma Lazarus

 

Last night I slept, and when I woke her kiss
Still floated on my lips. For we had strayed
Together in my dream, through some dim glade,
Where the shy moonbeams scarce dared light our bliss.
The air was dank with dew, between the trees,
The hidden glow-worms kindled and were spent.
Cheek pressed to cheek, the cool, the hot night-breeze
Mingled our hair, our breath, and came and went,
As sporting with our passion. Low and deep
Spake in mine ear her voice: “And didst thou dream,
This could be buried? This could be sleep?
And love be thrall to death! Nay, whatso seem,
Have faith, dear heart; this is the thing that is!”
Thereon I woke, and on my lips her kiss.

Catherine and Vincent in a lovers embrace in a bathing chamber. Behind them, the waterfall, the bathing pool. Vincent is on his knees, Catherine pulled close.

0 Comments

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.