What To Buy A Woman

Poem By Grahame Lockey

What to buy a woman who’s grown up with quality,
who sums its parts up, knows the names it calls us with?

What would suit a woman who wears the right decision,
who has the measure of what stands out, whose wardrobe bursts like buttons?

What would match a woman whose shapeliness no cut pulls off,
who looks her best when she’s undressed, who’s softer than brushed cotton?

What to hand a woman who lugs no baggage, travels light –
backpockets all she needs to not slow down?

How set off a woman whose smile-ignited mine-blast eyes
put diamonds out, flaw platinum, deglister gold, fog silver?

What to place in fingers that play on mine a melody of contact
whose reach can teach, whose grasp trawls?

Nothing, to speak of.
Things no shop sells, things we cannot wrap, or hold.
Like the chance to guess what you are
as your press yourself into my acceptant hands like a present;
the break to work you from a box
that keeps you mint somehow, repackably.
If you hung your memories on hangers, I could slide through them for something
you have yet to try on, but we have not walked in that wardrobe.
So I buy you a cookery book. Guess I won’t be eating tonight.

Comments about What To Buy A Woman

me? i gave her my cellular phone number, , ,
Sir, all you need give her is this poem it should delight her.

Rating Card

5,0 out of 5
1 total ratings

Other poems of LOCKEY

It Comforts Some

It comforts some to see life
as a journey to a happy land,
where the holiday sun never sets.
Heaven – no maps exist; no one

At The Broad End

With a wind tan of what gets to him, he
turns his back on what is beckoning,
knowing it's bringing, red-lettered,
a date with it - one he may never learn.


One day, I took you to school on my shoulders, punch proud.
At first light, the heat was already as thick and itchy as wool,
and everything had the colour of a photo that has seen too much sun.
You swayed with the rhythm of my gait, little hands holding on

My Little My

The youngest bird has the widest beak,
Not one for playing hide and seek –
Straight for the kill, neck or gill.
Not one for elbows on the window sill.


Tessie, here’s a song for you, half a life in the knowing
Though water may pass by, it’s the river that is flowing
Eh? What’s that? You ask. Come again? I don’t follow
Things change, Poppet, and there are times, it can be hard to swallow. But