if these ties of cupid
however with hearsay were stupid
that she'd complicate her nature
where her ensemble was audacious
but round a hearth with her nomad
as beast were her shillings
there was her but again wore attire
so attractive but as frozen
and heartily felt as her gait was thrilling
left her gander with grinder eaten.
'Twas the night after Christmas and I lay curled up in bed
With my hair wild and frizzy and my face a bright red
I had cleaned and scrubbed floors, I had cooked and I'd baked
I had done what I could; made curries and cakes
I had gifted many presents and received many too
From books and lip colours to green socks and red shoes
I had prayed and thanked God for his love and kind ways
I had prayed for mankind and for happier days
But something was still missing - I felt it in the lull
I felt restless and edgy, a wee lost, a tad dull
I thought and I pondered - then it dawned upon me
I was missing my poet friends, and writing poetry -
So I wrote this little poem to send love across the seas
Prosperous and healthy may you all always be
I wish you much happiness, peace, hope and light -
And now to the West I wish a good day, to the East a good night.
O Majestic Carpenter
Pray, craft for me a boat
I'm drowning in the ocean of samsara
I can no longer stay afloat
Build her strong
Build her bright
Infuse her sail
With Your Christ Light
Ferry me safely
Across this tempestuous sea
To The Island Of Love
The Eternal Heart of Thee
I must have stirred thousands
of tins of paint
one, two, three a day
for twenty years
man and boy.
Always with a broad paddle,
wood or plastic
day to night to day again
I would have dragged up the
most energetic of colours
from the deepest of depths,
exposing them to the hues of their cousins.
I would have watched the whirlpools of pigments
drowning and resurfacing
as they journey to the furthest reaches,
before becoming engulfed by a thickness of surface cosmos,
slowly to conquer
to find complexion and strength.
I would have raised this transformation
studied its viscosity
and drawn patterns from the dripping stick
and watched those creations melt upon the surface
What colours we once were
freed from entrapment
so bold to speak our minds
so eager to fly
blended and lost
melted creations of our own existence
Tears like raindrops roll down my face
as I start awake from another dream.
The stark isolation set in another place
reflecting the here by subconscious means.
The wind whistles a gale of fury
whilst I squat on the mountains summit.
Bracing my heart from an angry jury,
whose purpose is to find me unfit.
Not worthy, by proxy, a foregone verdict
delivered eloquently from myself to me.
Scything confidence away, I've heard it.
Raindrops taste like tears to the lonely.
Shutters and barricades drop, my armour,
holding back the bad, and the good.
Protected, the gale blows much calmer,
the stark isolation accepted and understood.
But the dream persists, always the same,
a looping litany whilst I lay asleep.
The withdrawal is but temporary in name
until I locate that which I humbly seek.
© Pagan Paul (2016/2017)
I want to know
intelligent and so very sweet
I will love you heart and soul
to love you
such a beautiful new treat,
I want to run my hands
through your lovely lovely hair
and let you slow caress me
do things I'd never ever dare
like to kiss with no abandon
and love with out the worry
love you slow and sweet...oh,
an never will I hurry
I will hear you
I will listen
I will be your lovely one
I will be your shiny moon,
and you my lovely shining sun
all the things we ever wanted
an relief when days are done
I've waited now forever
to find you is my goal
I have no other purpose
you are the half
that makes me whole
you are the other part
to my old and weary soul
please I beg you look above
to see my star tonight
I hope you see me now I do,
as I shine on you a light.
Ma Cherie © 2017
now the river's flow
I love to swim
tepid and soft
she holds me aloft
I float on moonbeam.
Love to hold close
snuggle my nose
between her breasts
they aren't as high
but I mustn't lie
found no better rests.
No way I would hide
if not by my side
life feels a dull stuff
the unwritten rule
is she makes me full
so I'm never half.
By a simple glance
in a million one chance
we happened to meet
love I wouldn't call
not to make small
this undying habit.
Tall under the sun
Crawling beneath stars
In night-time skull
Thoughts behind eyes
And above light
Without words or form
Lay like death
Piled upon writhing hopes
Grasping at lies like air
And in the stillness of dawn
The cold of morning light
Or maybe blood
Tapping through silence
By Phil Roberts
In my yard stands a tree
tall and sturdy
lone like a hermit,
regal like an empress
her roots dug deep
her branches touching the heavens
peeking behind the skies veil
She has a coy dalliance with the Wind
Sometimes he comes tickling
her tender parts, whispering
sweet nothings in her ear
Overall she is still
like waters without ripples
She stands upright
brooding over the saga of struggle
from a sapling to a towering giant
Indeed a tryst with destiny!
Under the summer sky
braving the smarting beams
she remained uncomplaining.
Below the thundering clouds
bearing a thousand needle pricks
she stayed nonchalant.
When the wind swept across
bending her branches in all directions
she stood on firm feet unwavering.
She tells a tale of struggle and survival
She had stood there before I was born
Now she displays every scar and every stripe
on her knotted bark as a proud trophy
Sometimes I feel her pain
when wet and dripping in pouring rain
or scorched in the sun’s fiery rage
Yet she holds an umbrella over all
who come to her in sun and rain
I find myself standing at the entrance to a cave
the suns warming rays glue my shirt to sweating flesh
as tiny beads drip from my fingertips onto rocks dressed in thin moss.
I peer deep into the glistening shadows and bid
farewell to all that I have ever known
Transition to darkness is swift,
ponds of silken water sit obediently still
as the cave seduces and drags me deeper,
further than my mind can comprehend
My hand steadies against cold rock
and my feet, as if guided by a forgotten memory,
glide skillfully over unseen boulders
I can taste the hues, I can sense a belonging
as my breath is absorbed by the opening ahead
And just as I peered before, I stand in awe at the
beauty of my new home
Illuminated by love alone, sheer walls of burnt orange rise
majestically from a lake of neon blue,
tiny birds fly,
boastful in their iridescence
dipping in and out of sight.
And falling from the reaches of obscurity
a million souls of poets
descend in hushed verse
to lay upon this tranquil mind