In a corner of my heart there dwells a pain
That thoughts of you awaken each day;
Purposely, I provoke it, then sigh in vain,
Knowing there will be a price to pay

In a corner of my heart there is a poem,
Born of each kiss and each solemn vow;
Loving you as I did they could fill a tome --
But poems your love inspired mock me now

What good is love if the happiness it brings
Turns into a pageantry of pain,
And the song of love the heart blissfully sings
Becomes parting's sorrowful refrain?

Without love, no comfort waits at end of day,
Just memories, unwilling to depart;
(Was it wrong to keep one flower from love's bouquet,
Hidden in a corner of my heart?)

In a corner of my heart my expressions
Of true and faithful love sit and cry;
Unable to absorb the transgressions
Your love brought, they're mute, without reply

So many tears have fallen, forging this chain
That won't permit memories  to depart;
And I can find no way to suppress the pain
Now filling each corner of my heart

I coloured my world today
my hands smeared in pastels
canary yellows
ripe peaches and cardinal ochres
pink from a flamingo sunrise
a passionate cerise
Splashed
an array of feisty blues
a flamboyant turquoise
a topaz tango
a twinkling periwinkle
Streaked it with
gold
contoured lilac smudges
lavender tipped edges
in custard pineapple floats
splattered emeralds, toned pistachio
fern greens with swift finger strokes
Tempered it with
muddy crusty earthy browns
rock coloured sandy mounds
reined in royal purple
the sensual blaze of a flaming sunset
the dark indigo of a gloaming sky
agate drops a few
a silver sliver of a crescent new

I coloured my world
with my eyes
my fingers, hands
my hues
just the way I wanted to

Set the clock behind a little
Allow the hands to move slow
Kiss the deep burgundy skies
And the sunrise's golden glow
Smile at the little ones
And those who come my way
Listen to the world around
What it has to say
Pluck away worried thoughts
Instead - hum forgotten songs
Doze a little, dance a little
Before the day is gone

Lately
I don’t feel close
to poetry.

It feels elusive.
Unfamiliar.
Once it spoke to me.
But now it’s mute.

It sits back
and doesn’t look
at me.

If I call out
it doesn’t hear.

Lately poetry is
like that demon
I used to want
to reappear.

I've been running around
a notebook on my hip
and the sun in my eyes
and your words on my lips

i've been falling asleep
with your smell on my mind
and the faintest memory
of our fingers entwined

but I've been waking up
with a pillow by my side
and you leaving with my dreams
on the outgoing tide

Parallel thoughts like parallel lines carry similar veins of reasoning in almost identical directions.  Through this though separate we find unity.

Fort sort court report, tort port quart, consort contort retort cohort cavort snort.

Black sack fact track Jack, smack wack maniac pack.  Back hack knack flack, lack kayak rack tack.

Bust rust, dust crust, lust fussed, just must combust trust.

Bought naught, fought caught ought, distraught draught..

Pent mint sent rent lent, vent bent, went dent, gent glint spent tent rent.

Serene ravine green gene careen, obscene demean.  Clean, preen queen, mean lean scene wean.

Fin pin sin, men tin wren zen.