Love Poems



I had never seen anything like this before… Her eyes slide to the side as passion moves her, Our hearts beating in synch, our breathing matched. I do know what to do. I always have. How slow to go, where to be, Knowing I bask in the safety of how much she needs me. I give her everything she asks for – she does not need to speak – Her eyes tell me, drawing me inside, pupils opening wide, wider, Black replacing color, like entering a cave, moist and inviting. This will never be boring, but always exciting. Is the roar if hear, I feel, from our blood pulsating, Or ocean waves soaring?

 January, 2012


So much talk of being in the Here and Now – Some spend years trying to learn how to be deeply in the moment, But I know it now – You’ve taught me the way a religious experience ought to be – Transcendent with no meditation necessary.

Oh I love that moment where I lose it – And can find no track of time. No longer watching, thinking, wandering Through the convolutions of my mind. My, for once, just here and nowhere else Because you captivate me, Capturing my full attention, Sliding into those eyes, pulling me into your core. Feeling you grasp me so tightly I can’t catch my breath. You leave me breathless. This is beyond wild. Taste of your lips, scent of your breath. So glad I can smell you with no false odors between us, Your natural pure aroma intoxicating.

All that money I could have spent trying to be in the now. Not hard to stay on track if I start to wander – you bring me right back. I don’t need to look to see where I am going. I could do this in the darkness, But I love to see your eyes, Every feeling reflected, As you ask me to share it, again, again, again, Will there be no end? I feel you changing. So much liquid with water signs. Feeling so much brings no fear But is freeing to feel more, and more. Softness turns to tension and you are so close, and come nearer, nearer, “Share it with me,” you say, And I do, I do, over and over and over, again and again… As the waves of wildness subside, I don’t have to fear that my mind will finally wander because we return to where we’ve been and start again. This kind of night I waited for all my life, I worry we could ignite if it wasn’t so moist in here, You can barely speak, but whisper “Oh, do not stop,” making it clear that

I am truly in the here and now.

February, 2012



Thirteen years ago, this month, this May, I was dazzled by a promise of love so sweet, I didn’t notice I had lost my way.

I was bought and sold a pile of goods, A passel of lies. Fought over and won, I was the prize, But what a surprise awaited me. Oh, tricked so deep, I didn’t even care if I came out alive.

The deeper I went, the freer I felt, So far, far away, so far from me. I felt I was coming home as the circle closed, Coming back to the beginning. Lost in eyes with limitless depths, the wriggling pile of lies Centered me, distracting me from grief.

My mother warned, “They want something from you. Don’t go there alone – they might eat you!” How right she was – Oh yes, that one almost ate her too, Sucked her right in, but what a glow – We basked for a while, Not feeling the cold behind the fire, Not realizing the cord to the light Came from our own warm hearts and my own desire.

We provided the juice for the Empty One – so empty inside underneath her shimmering lies, Behind the stories, the entertainment, The dreams, she gave me dreams While stealing my heart, tearing me apart. Oh, I didn’t care as I swam in her juices, Tossed in her waves, melting, Almost lost in her cave, The steady dripping, dripping, filling up Until I could scarcely breathe – Breathless, she had me breathless. Her eyes led me back, tracing my way, Following the strands of lies from Ireland to England, Thoughts of Yorkshire permeating us both Until I was so very far from home. Oh I did roam so far from home, Though she had named her very body my home.

So cold and dark, in summer, it was on that mountain in Ireland. I remember the night of endless stars, Newly in love, in ecstasy, Why so much sorrow, so much grief? Why could I not see that she did not Seem truly alive, for all her performances, her drama, her tragedies?

I’d seen her change before my eyes, Face growing different, hard, and oh so cold, frozen in cruelty. Her sweet voice which had once captivated me, now transformed harshly, accusing, Eyes blank and dull, which had Glowed a few moments before. Where did she go? Only the mask had fallen, The stolen joy gone, This cold thing was her, Underneath the bright shiny lies, This sullen cold thing was my love. Too late to back out now, Away from the immoveable object.

I swear I will make this work. By the force of my will, with all of my strength, and the power of my love, I swear I WILL make this work.

Surely her lover for me was real? She had given up so much for our love. She proved it time and again, While draining my life force away.

I wondered if we would die there By the hand of her ghost. That hand that I felt on my shoulder, Shuddering as I struggled to sleep. Was it a threat, a warning, a comfort? Poor ghost, having witnessed her madness all those years before. And now I am left so many ghosts, so very many little ghosts to remember.

Oh what desperation made me bring The vampire home? Why did I bring the tantruming vampire home? Into my heart, into my life, Into my room, into my home, into my bed?  Into my bed… So I could never think again, Never be alone, to remember, To know, to think what was missing, What was lost.

She left her scent on my mind, Her passion on my skin, Her stories on my wall. She left her pain on my heart And I didn’t want her to go. She clung to me so, And I promised to never let her go.

Extrication came with fire, Such burning and pain, Pushed so hard and reeled back again, Years of this game. Punished for my crime of refusing To join in her lies, She denied our decade together, our very love. Yet for all she took, she did not steal every drop of my blood, and she did not steal my soul. She wanted me dead, Yet I remain.

So now, 13 years later, This spring, this May, She no longer stalks me. I am free, so free. Surrounded by green and water falling, Rushing and roaring, the sacred trees. I can see it all clearly now Like the sky washed clean by the rain,

And I am free.

May, 2011


Sometimes I have glimpses of what used to be, My life from before, or what is coming, Swiftly, sharply seen brightness, like sunlight glancing off water running. So clear and sure it comes to me, The knowing like when everything slips right into place, all as it should be.

The love of my life came to me more than once, twice, thrice, countless times, Each better, deeper, wilder. I feel it like new green growth bursting from the earth, magic flowing,

But this time I may say no.

I do not have to rush, leap headlong into the abyss. If love is true, I can take my time. If love is real, it will not miss. We can take a slower dance, while I learn the rhythm of your heart and the truth of your mind. Not one thing left to chance, Until I know no lie lurks inside,

And our hearts open like the first time.




Tiny jewels of beings just born, Golden orbs, cuddling, huddling together. Holding each other so tightly, While a few brave ones start their journey, helping the rest, So sure and capable, though just hatched.

Humans hate you, but I love you For the treasures you are — tiny beautiful perfect



Old growth primordial forest, Tallest trees in the world, Ancient deep green, roaring creek, radiant flowers, glowing ferns everywhere, and there, easily missed amongst the height of the trees,

I see them, Looking right at me, Hissing, cuddling together, Rare, endangered babies,

Spotted Owls.


Oh these tiny creatures, Soft beyond belief, Full of life, and oh so open to love. Exquisite little hands hold me, While sweet eyes look into mine, Tiny tongue covers my lips with kisses, Such kindness, wisdom, and capacity for self-sacrifice.

Why would any fool fear or hate you, Or despise your innocent little tails? I know squirrel love but these perfect beings, I have bonded with –

Baby rats.


I almost step on her in the shadowed light. Exquisite colors and patterns so bright. Darting sweet black tongue – Such a frightened little one.

Does she know that with one strike of her tiny mouth, she could kill anyone who dares threaten her?

Baby rattlesnake



She appears as a tiny pumpkin in this ocean twilight, How did she become so round, Orange orb, glowing so bright?


fog of loneliness flows along the growing chill of the night air. Halloween time again and I hope for ghosts. So many ghosts I long to see, to feel, to hear, To be with again. If they visit, I do not know of them. But other shadows come instead in this darkness. It is an interesting evening.

First, the magnificence of such a fancy person, With her long fluffy tail and her exquisite Black and white patterns. My gentle skunk friend visits every night and I can almost touch her.

Then the other shadows come, shyly at first, Hesitant, but so curious, growing bolder. Such beauty in this night, Little ghostly forms like small pale bears. Six spectors. I greet them and feel the softness of their Tender leathery hands holding my hands. I love their intense earnest faces. No tricks from these clever masked brave bandits. Just pure treat in their little hands so sweet, And wise gleaming dark eyes that hold mine.

January, 2012



The time of longing between feeling love

and that first touch is well worth the wait.

Even when you don’t know how

much longer you can take

 – such aching inside –

Does she feel the same?

How can this be?


No lies here –

Your eyes meet,

each seeing the love

sparking the fire of passion wildly,

Breathing quickens, deepens,

Knowing the desire shared –

No longer alone in it.

The irises of her eyes widen –

No end to their depths –

Pulling you inside –

Oh god –


Her love mirroring yours –

Needing, knowing, feeling such yearning –

Both reaching, both finding –

The love sweeps you along –

Hearts melting, fires burning –

Like a dance, the circle of balance

Turning over and over, spinning,

Flowing one into the other

And back again.


Wanted and wanter,

Desired and desirer,

Loved and lover.

No separation.

Not just one, but together –

Not just me, but you –


Equality –



 Bev Jo



                    LOVE SONG


I am not ready to commit myself to a lifetime,

You told me quietly.

Yet I want to wrap my love around you throughout this cold night,

While you hold me oh so tightly.


It’s all right – it doesn’t have to last longer than

The orange flicker of this candlelight.


Or we can go alone together

Where we hear the roar of the ocean,

Its midnight mist moistening our faces,

Salty brine inside and out,

While meteors shoot across the dark sky

Of this new moon,

No other light blocking our way,

And soon we smell the blossoms unfurling

Their flavor only in this quiet of night.


We can take this path to see where it will lead.

We can kiss until our hearts melt.


And for these hours you can be mine

While knowing I am yours.


We can take it one night at a time.


Bev Jo

May 2009




Electricity coming off you,
Sparkling like blue light,
Like an ethereal wine, shocking,
That, is what I’ve been missing
In this search of mine.

Settling is not even considered.
This is where love can become a drug.
And I’ve been that way before.
Ah, but that magic beginning.
Nothing can compare,
Where we glance and
Then dare to look –
Directly at each other.

Neither turns her eyes away
In fear or embarrassment.

That is a very good sign.

My god, the depths here.
I can’t see the bottom.
There is no bottom,
No end.
This could be a love of friendship,
A love of equals.
This could be the thrill of a lifetime.
So much potential
and we’ve yet to touch.
No needing to remind oneself
To stay in the Now.

When with you,
There is nothing but Now.
There is so much.
I can see that remembering to eat,
To sleep,
Could become a serious problem.

Do we care?

Not when we dare to share
This kind of love.

Bev Jo – March, 2011

About Bev Jo

I’ve been a Lesbian from my earliest memories and am proud to be a Lesbian. Lesbians are my people and my blood. My life’s work has defending Lesbians and our culture and existence against those who oppress us. Working-class, ex-catholic, mostly European-descent (with some First Nations, probably Shawnee, ancestry), from poverty class culture. I’m a Lifelong Lesbian, born near Cincinnati, Ohio in 1950. I became lovers with my first lover in 1968, became part of a Lesbian community in 1970, and became a Dyke Separatist in 1972. I helped create Radical Lesbian Feminist and Separatist community and worked on some of the earliest Lesbian Feminist projects, such as the Lesbian Feminist Conference in Berkeley in 1972, the newspaper “Dykes and Gorgons” in 1973, the women’s bookstore, Lesbian coffeehouse, and taught self defense to women and girls. I’ve been published in journals and anthologies, including “For Lesbians Only,” “Finding the Lesbians,” “Lesbian Friendships,” “Amazones d’Hier, Lesbiennes Aujourd’hui,” “Mehr als das Herz Gebrochen,” the Journal for Lesbian Studies, Lesbian Ethics, Sinister Wisdom, Trivia, and Rain and Thunder. With Linda Strega and Ruston, I co-wrote our book, “Dykes-Loving-Dykes: Dyke Separatist Politics for Lesbians Only” in 1990. I’ve been disabled since 1981 with ME/CFIDS (Myalgic Encephalomyelitis) and MCS (Multiple Chemical Sensitivity.) I love nature and plants and animals — and especially the animals who are feared and hated and killed by people who don’t even know them, just as Lesbians are. I’ve learned to love rats especially, who I do not consider inferior to humans. I’m a spiritual atheist, but I’ve found out that there is definitely life after death because a little rat returned from the dead for three days to comfort us. These hated little animals are so kind and loving, and willing to die for someone they love. I say, in our fight to protect the earth — distrust all “truths” we are taught by patriarchy. The true truth is often the opposite.
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14 Responses to Love Poems

  1. theinkbrain says:

    I was just trolling the net for lesbian love poems and saw yours…. I love the sincerity and the true echo in them. Spiritual atheists are great. in fact I think you can only be truly spiritual if you are one and don’t cling to all the fictions. I liked your brief bio too. Our generation is all scattered now, and we mostly meet in places like this.
    Incidentally, I have a little house mouse living in my bath tub. I found him/her there one morning, and decided to provide nesting materials and food. S/he drinks from a drip in the faucet.
    I wish you happiness in all you do.


    • Bev Jo says:

      Thank you so much. I really appreciate all that you said. I read some nature poems last night at a Lesbian open mic, but think most are disturbed that they’re about “unacceptable” animals. So we are of the same generation? Too bad we’re not in the same area.

      That’s sweet about your mouse. I wonder if she got in for the water and can’t climb out?


      • theinkbrain says:

        About the mouse… I have no idea about how it happened. I’m waiting till ‘it’ grows a bit larger and I can put it in a gerbil cage or something like that. Good thing I’m a shower person and never use the tub, but when my best friend (her name is Bev too) visits she does, so I hope this little rodent grows larger by mid-December!
        As for poetry – how can one live without it! its impossible. Have you read the poems of Sylvia Townsend Warner and Valentine Ackland? – they may be a little dated and somewhat too stringent for modern American tastes, but who knows – you might find something to like…. also Juana Inés de la Cruz, who is an absolute gem.


  2. Bev Jo says:

    I just saw what you wrote at your bio and do really agree with you about poetry. It’s strange to write it since I don’t like most because it seems so boring and pretentious, and yet I’m drawn to it because of the spiritual quality and depth you described. It’s amazing when it is true and powerful.


  3. Bev Jo says:

    I wonder if the mouse went to get water, but got trapped. Spiders do, so I used to leave a ladder of paper in the tub and sink for them to get out.

    Is it definitely a mouse and not a roof rat? Can she get out? I wonder if she has a community somewhere. Rats always do.

    I mostly have been hearing/reading some local Lesbian writers and rarely look at books, but I should check those out. I only know of Sylvia Townsend Warner because she’s from Aotearoa (New Zealand), yes?
    I will look for the others too. Thank you!


  4. Bev Jo says:

    Juana Inés de la Cruz is amazing. I had never heard of her.

    I think it was my ex from Aotearoa who talked about Silvia Townsend Warner, but I hadn’t known more than her name. Interesting. Now I have to look for her and Valentine’s poetry.


  5. theinkbrain says:

    The mouse is tiny about the size of my little finger – I don’t know about a community and I would put her outside, but I am not sure how she would fare…. No she can’t get out, and its better that way. I have a dog, and his pal from next door visits every day. I will have to give her her own home in a cage or let her free, and if I do the latter it will have to be far away because my neighbour sets mouse traps in her yard. She keeps chickens, and I think the mice get attracted to the chicken feed.

    here is an example of STW’s poetry: Its not all like this – but this is a love poem.

    For long meeting of our lips

    Shall be breaking of ships,

    For breath drawn quicker men drowned

    And trees downed.

    Throe shall fell roof-tree, pulse’s knock

    Undermine rock,

    A cry hurl seas against the land, a

    raiding hand, scattering

    lightning along thighs Lightning from skies


    STW was highly secular – clearly an atheist – while VA was one of those gloomily sentimental Christians. They were very interesting women, and I absolutely love STW’s writing. Terry Castle in her book Apparitional Lesbians commented on two of Sylvia’s books – Lolly Willows, and Summer Will Show.

    I think the New Zealander you are thinking of could be Katherine Mansfield – she was originally from Thorndon.


  6. Bev Jo says:

    I hope the mouse isn’t a baby. That is incredibly tiny. Yes, it’s best to keep her unless you could find her friends. If she’s like rats, they so savor food variety — more than us. I loved giving my rats so many different flavors and seeing their appreciation.

    I think it was my New Zealand ex who had Sylvia Townsend Warner’s books. That is an amazing poem. Thank you!


  7. Stephenie Smith says:

    Thank you so much for the STW poems. I too had heard the name but not listened to the poetry. Is it impolite to say I like your poems better?



  8. Bev Jo says:

    Thank you so much, Stephenie! Not impolite at all and I appreciate it. Maybe I should post more recent ones then? I write them, and read them locally, but keep working on political comments and articles instead.


  9. Sharon says:

    The photos of your pet rats are darling. They look so cute and adorable. I’ve always liked rats and mice as pets. I really miss having pets around. Unfortunately, I don’t have a cage now nor any supplies. Since I’m also something of a cat person, I thought seriously about getting a cat, but I realized that a cat probably would terrify any rat. It wouldn’t be fair to a rat to have cat around. I don’t know how I could keep them apart. My ex’s daughter had some spiny back mice that had babies. Have you see the tan spiny backs with the tiny spikes of fur on their backs? I was fortunate to have babysat the mice for about one week while they were gone. I had to keep the babies warm with a towel placed over an electric pad. The adult mice are very quick. These are the quickest mice I’ve ever seen in the way that they can dart about and hide. If there was an award for the quickest mice, these little buys with their quick feet would win. They are quick little devils. Don’t ever lose a spiny back because you will never catch it.

    I especially liked your poem “Crackle”. You described the energy between two women in a way that touched me. In that instant, in that first glance, touching that energy is like touching eternity. In all honesty, I don’t know if there are proper words to describe this profound, soul piercing energy, the slow, delicious electricity, the erotic sizzle, the persistent buzzing of a million bees. It’s an energy that simply defies all definition because no description truly does it justice. It appears formless with no depth, no up nor down, no right or wrong. It exists only for itself. It reaches from the here and now to the end of the universe as if all space and time are condensed into one sweet, delicate, delightful moment in time. I feel completely secure as if I’m part of the ancient wisdom of all women, the ancient wisdom of the very earth itself. We are one and the same. There is no distinction. Although it might sound strange, I feel almost as if I’m touching the souls of all the lesbians who have come before me. I draw from their energy. The electrifying energy between two women is so powerful that it shakes my soul to its core.

    In Equality, I liked the third passage the best.

    Again, the photos of the rats are adorable.
    Thank you.


  10. Bev Jo says:

    Thank YOU, Sharon. Your description of Lesbian love and love-making is like a poem. Very beautiful and so true. You’re right — transcendent of time and barriers and so much else. Do you write poetry? You should. You touched on the spiritual aspects of Lesbian love. Beautiful.

    You inspire me to write more soon. I keep trying to finish the political articles, but this is important too. I have more to post also.

    No, I’ve never seen the spiny back mice. An advantage of rescuing rats is that it’s much less of a time commitment than a cat. A cat can live 20 years. Also, it’s better for cats to be inside (for their survival and health), but that’s hard on them. If outside, they can kill literally hundreds of animals a year. (One study averaged 800.) All the little reptiles and amphibians are gone from any area where there are cats, and the birds are decimated. A friend’s sweet cat killed a baby mockingbird.

    After having lived with rats, I can’t imagine being with another animal. I’m not allowed to have them now, but am so bonded to them — their intelligence and incredible capacity for love, and such strong personalities. I had so many animals growing up, but rats are on a whole other level. Who knew? The Rat Community knows and it’s interesting that they are 99% women. I miss rats every day. You live right near some of the rat rescue community too, so you could go to adoption fairs.


  11. rheeb says:

    I LOVE your poems. It’s so wonderful to love women, and your descriptions are lovely.


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