What is love, actually?

Richard Curtis' film Love, Actually has me thinking a lot about the subject.

Flawed as it is, the film draws many sides of the faces of love.

Curtis writes a lot about the up sides of romantic love - his prior films being Four Weddings and a Funeral and Notting Hill.

If you are a faithful reader of my blog, you know I do not. For lots of reasons, one of which is that I'm pretty private about such matters.

But I was recently assigned to write a love poem for a poetry class I'm taking. I emailed it to another writer-classmate to take to the class for me since I had to work during the session that day.

Interestingly the writer-courier read it aloud to her husband before she left for the class.

And ... told me ... that ... because of this poem (can you believe it?) she was .. um .. late .. for .. class. They ... ah ... were inspired to take ... a moment ... to ... um ... how does one say? Reconnect ... after reciting ..

Moving on.

Mind you, I'm not a real poet like my best mate and writing coachee John Beresford, but here's what I wrote that was not only the inspiration for an afternoon delight (!) but also won a resounding round of praise from the teacher and class in my absence.

Real Love
by
Colleen Patrick

So much is written
When we‘re smitten
About love - it’s celestial glory
Not its end – a very different story

Hearts soar
Hormones roar
Make love on the floor
Desire ignites your deepest core

At last, you are somebody
In somebody else’s eyes
An awe-inspiring identity
Anyone would prize

You think about her all day
You dream about him all night
You picture the wedding
A spectacular sight

That is, unless you’re gay
Then it’s a union
For which you must pay
Still, it’s “our special day”

But so many months later
When your mind is thinking straighter
You wonder how you came to hate her
That facial tick – why’d you ever date her

You hope this time it’s going to stick
The thought of him won’t make you sick
He’s a catch, his clothes are slick
He loves you back, and it’s no trick

Respect and esteem grow
It must be your fate
You do what you know
To make her feel great

Day after day you care
You build, you arrange
You dare and you bare
Your soul, feeling strange

Yet one memory at a time
You create and you store
Hoping in your prime
You’ll make so many more

Love is not feeling divine
Or a thought at valentine
Or an amorous notion
Even a wish for devotion

Real love isn’t a dance
A trance
Built during a reverie
A romantic brewery

Nope, not even by a fraction
Real love? Real love is an action
A note, a caress, washing dishes, cooking dinner
Tell me I’m beautiful and that I look thinner