If I could shrink an ailing body piece
then from my chest dilute the torrid pain
that billowed when your love had parted lease
and drowns me in; a churning, scalding strain.

Decrease the ***** till the burning yields
and donor none, such grief is best to waste,
dispose where to; from other cores it shields
let feast by creatures, used to bitter taste.

If left with none to love, repose to sleep
in dormant I, then have no blood to give
for hurt would have no muse to reach as deep
nor then again let lovelorn wounds relive.

O' take this beating ball of lover's tar!
To drain her out my pulse, and mold no scar.

I have presumed and wrote, that heaven's guard
would greet and welcome me, when age had won
but if that golden staff would wave me barred,
what fault had I, to just - my soul outdone?

Would my offense be matters scaled with love
for deep into the past's of May; love cried
when angels swept her past the clouds above,
and only Spring this year, had love retried.

Ah, could my newer flame have burned the seers;
for hearted vows, in death could still ordain,
if fallen whispers grieve in angel ears;
that promised - only she, in love would reign.

O' parted love, weep not, that heaven's bless!
Tho' love here changed, means not - our love is less.

How do I write of love, unlike before?
Have bards of old then dripped and dried all pens
that none a phrase nor sequence left to roar,
my hearted themes then blind to any lens.

Should I then rhyme and pray my wit appear
to scheme a love no sonnet, dare have done,
for those who seek to read what love is here
and touch an essence tho'; anew had won.

But if my page imprints a loving new
have I deprived a future poet's scheme
that he be lost, as I am now with rue,
that works, tho' felt, another may beseem.

But love, is love, no other word can meet,
and if that love his own, none can defeat.

A lover's garden is - a budding maze
that grows from sprouting seedlings 'neath the sleet
as mirth for spring outdone the frosty glaze,
and stems to touch unveil with flowered greet.

The blossom heads imbue the wealth within
to splay a redden zeal, or blue of truth
or white as pure, but darker shades can win
tho' hue can glow, it could then bring untruth.

For beds of flowers thorn and sharply *****,
to walk the floral beat; some planter's bleed,
the dripping stains, and petal leaves unpick
But if the bristly spines grew true, proceed.

A lover's world can grow an Eden's yard
tho' if from brittle make, then prune on guard.

If love were formed and rendered by a God
then dearest lover, blessed have you been
for he, or she, with wand had also ****
and touched upon your cast, a beauty's sheen.

Exquisite works that I so marvel oft
as other Gods, like that whom rules the sun;
had sought to bind such glow, with light aloft,
and nightly moons, into your eyes, have won.

Your love, and God thereof, have greater worth
as love has pierced within and won my mold
residing deep, into my source of mirth,
that if no love, let Gods alike withhold.

As love that truest, must be dreamed above,
there's only one such power; God of love.

Tho' modern pen has lost a cursive touch
and words archaic; poet's old cliches,
electric type has still the phrase to clutch
and render beauty's make through sonnet praise.

Have I then prompt to key my quill to prove
iambic worth has ink for grace so rare?
Tho' words cannot do just, nor then improve
but page her beaut for those that cannot stare.

A lady's fair in metered writ, romance!
And have so in; revered poems of old
now newer peach must too afford a chance
to muse a bard, that none her flair withhold.

Let modern sonnet's ode new blush to art!
And tho' from present phrase, they still impart.

Remember me in spring when blossom's blush
and petals flair a - light in morning mists
that'll haze a rainbow hue - of flowered plush
to portrait mine as every bud untwists.

Upon the birding bath as robins splay
the warbling chirp shall voice as tho' from me
for you my sweet, in springtime bloom of may
shall hear the larking flute of my decree.

The dancing leaves shall tap and Ivy's birth
and Snowdrop's bow as daisy eyes unveils
as fragrant, olive air shall scent of mirth
that once were lost, now shrines as spring prevails.

Vernal rebloom shall stream that pulse of mine
then seek that earthly glow, and there I'll shine.

Am I alike a yoyo? Stringed and thrown
by knots around my hearted centre piece
to spin a course that's set, not by my own
but from unhappy masters, bored to cease.

Contently turning mind and heart abound,
to speed the limit, then return the aim
as tho' my thoughts of change and love rebound
within complacent discs, that they reclaim.

Life seems to whirl me like a yoyo trick
complexed entwining threads that then unfurl
to only then again with just a flick
have spun me dazed, bemused within the twirl.

I'm tied to play, confined within the same
tho' end it will, is that another game?

How shall I know my love in heaven's sphere?
As she'd have cast her barest essence form,
and hue that once was known, may not appear
nor sight anew in Eden, then conform.

My plea for her, unheard in foreign tongue?
Angelic speech may single none, but all,
and whilst the angel's realm my deeds have done
she'd fuse with higher realm, and heed no call.

Although unseen, her spirit - I have touched;
such depths the bond that death had left as strong,
and onto each of love that made I clutched,
that would eternal love with us belong.

Ah yes! Our love on earth had formed a sun!
And would in haven then, have glowed and won.

The meadows sprout alive with ochre swirls
emerging from - familiar zephyr streams
as tho' through leafage tongue an essence twirls,
but whom had sought and won my Autumn dreams.

The rhythmic chatter's one I've heard before
that drummed my infant years in Falls of old,
with sweetly moans of breezes rife from yore
then swept adrift my thoughts out through the wold.

Amid the tanned and yellow pattern leaves
a brittle patter raps upon this heart,
and blows my wonder where one's love believes;
that here unites what season's drift apart.

O' mother! Yes, it's you within the fall
returning me that love that were my all.

Misfortune's frowned at me with great disdain
and wrought the winter's frost for further quest;
to coat unseen - the stone on love's remain,
hence I in mind exhume what grief depressed.

Her grave's unjust to meet what beauty's owed,
no roman style exalts her fairest youth
if scholars old had glimpsed what grace she showed;
her tombstone would inscribe a closer truth.

That somber mason, near the date she passed
had failed to scribe my death of love to be;
for too below the ice, in urn - like cast
still bleeds of mourn, the lover's pith of me.

Upon reflection, snow has troubled none
I need no stone, when I'm already one.

When mind's own memoirs wither down to bone
then whom shall know my love in distant years?
For lest I carve her ode on graven stone
tho' grey is colder than my love appears.

Tho' many birches bear my hearted etch
and golden rays may stipple love and shrine,
arborists dead to old will send my sketch
to paper sheets, inscribed of love not mine.

On webbing sites my posts shall render true
but then unused accounts shall too erase
or kin may not so trust what's old, to new
my love that lost in time, will too in space.

This timeless form of type, I now shall choose!
Yet if undone, let love in death, recuse.

My love for you is as the water falls
cascading off the higher bedrock peak,
outpouring rugged edged and rigid walls
in endless flowing streams, from love's mystique.

To sparkling summer dew on cradling leaves,
condensed to drops, when you were playing dreams,
then from the slightest brush upon your sleeves
then downpours honey scented, splashing seams.

When pupils soak and darker skies then seep,
in every pearl descent, I'll be within
no burden then alone in moistened weep
when grief has dried, the falls again shall win.

My whirlpools gush! Or trickle morns anew
or crawl from wetted eyes, for only you.

Before the earth reclaims my bodies' ash,
what shall I miss the most of all her lush?
Her eyes that flutter each a darken lash?
That usher rhythmic beats of rapid flush.

With eyes azure that rise as ocean waves
that aquas mine, and in my pupils won
her country dress that only beauty braves
of golden glow that brought my will undone.

Or how her lips embed an inborn blush
for makeup only then would hue impair.
Then of the summer passion made on plush
when whistling lover's breezes kissed her hair.

How hard to die when she still glistens fair
as I will miss her all, that love could bear.

No doubt, her temple shines a jeweled trove
each carat gold would glimpse of lover's wealth,
shall I then try entreat her guarded cove;
and win a love, immured from suitor's stealth?

Her lair is wreathed by tears of bitter moat,
a soften rippling tide conceals my stride
each imprint leaves no cast or sandy float
with only faint demures to serve as guide.

For dense, uncertain fogging clouds her glow
as tho' her light's obscured, so none may find,
or love, in templed grief incensing woe
with none a paddled boat so left behind.

Her water's deep and cold, than to allow
tho' having tried, her lantern's brighter now.

When mine eyes near to close - for truest sleep
then best her gentled hand beside me hold
as I'd take with, her sketch into the deep
to let her fairest portrait, beacon gold.

Then into bodes of seraphs I'd have flown
and bid the high archangel grant me this;
that in his flock have one alike my own,
as only then has one bestowed true bliss.

Before the gilded counsel, I will gift
her glow that carried from the nether sphere
and blaze a shrine that'd bring an answer swift!
To match this beauty's flair, there are none here.

Then blast me into limbo! There I'd wait
for her eternal grace to be my fate.

When will decay defeat her beauty's flair?
For many - an eclipse has turned the night
and left no token seam for her to bear,
unless our maiden moon has stilled my sight.

Her grace within may blind my wrinkled browse
and render form and smile to greater wealth
and trance me in a state where she allows;
each breath of love - within it's truest self.

Tho' morning's glow appears a solar truth;
that from the amber beams her skin renews.
Ah no, I'm in the haze of lover's youth!
For I've become a temple to my muse.

Then I shall live her grandest, bright allure!
And ever young she'll be, mine eyes assure.

If my tomorrows were in summer's reach
I'd sail this day, on waves of bitter wine,
towards a newer dawn, on bluer beach
for ocean sprays, sting none to lover's brine.

The amber heated sky should melt her cold
that frozen 'neath my eyes her parting words;
another's light has won her love's remold,
let then each phrase be fed to hungry birds.

The Gulls can stomach salt I cannot bear
for they're accustomed tasters in disdain,
and pine for greater feasts, for I not dare,
but castle sands, and hide my love's domain.

Tho' if no love, there'll be no summer's day!
For all will be as bleak, as is, today.

Near the wavey waltz of beach
above are Gulls flocking by,
downward rays her beauty's peach
to carom and meet my eye.

Golden strands outshines the sands
and gazing pupils allure;
to deeply swim the ocean's hands
that cleanse lover's demure.

Winds ripple her amber dress
to homage summer's fashion
so lissom that I profess
her mine! Ashore of passion.

The hushing brine, splashes sighs
as to how her shimmer gleams
and none so ever arise
that'll match my lover's beams.

Let this diamond, kissed by sun
flow gently my love's decree
that she'll be mine, soon as one;
this rose's beauty will be.

With smile's high, and dripping eye
she exalts through salty air
"with love so vast, outdone the sky
of course! Now an eternal pair!"

In echo then, the seashells!
whom plush of Cupid's spree
foretells of ocean love spells
of her, me by lover's sea.

Could which of nature's art, out-glow her grace?
Of silver specks in night, I start with ease;
her pupils win as deeper they, than space,
should stars so blued auroral night, she'd seize!

As solar orange fuses morning sky
that but a glimpse of beauty I behold,
when dreams awake she enters then mine eye
the golden sunbursts were as tho' my mold.

If clouding vapour then above appease
and raindrops drip her hair as red as wine
her pageant dousing, even humbles trees!
For Winter's peers outdone by her own shine.

Partake above and let all plush combine!
And still would splendor short - to lady mine.

The breaths of fall have swayed the ochre glow
to age the meadow's sheen - with humbling form
then swirls the leaves in whirling wistful blow,
the rustling whispers hush - I too deform.

For I have withered - since the seasons past
as swift as tempered winds have flown my years,
I linger now between my summer's cast
to neath my coat of winter's icy fears.

As tho' to trees like oak I cling to life
in winds that gust and reap from twig and limb
and I, a dangling leaf in breezes rife
awaiting mine; own fall and hue to dim.

From autumn's mulching patter; I derive
my heart's own cease of seasons, will arrive.

If onto death's own writ, I shall assign,
no casket then entomb this hollow husk
for wood has nobler task, than shelter mine
or wreak of tales from grief decaying musk.

Nor churches kiln, atone my steep abyss
so forged and billows when - the churning yields
tho' stone is cold, the sadness, I'll not miss
then lest repose to ash in barren fields.

Let none then ember from this corpse's blaze
if fire contrives to token dust therein
resist the soot, tho' if outdone by haze
then urn of brittle make - as was herein.

Should years devalue mine - own powdered rust
let sprinkle where; the winds shall sweep in gust.

Between my sense and love; I duel both
since newly roses lay upon my bed
for I cannot in just - accept to oath
as I'd concede my merit worth for wed.

My seams are withered next to youth in pair
each crinkle peeks their weight and furrows deep,
towards my reason's home and billows there
and bids to our affair be put asleep.

Tho' beauty greets the morn' as summer light
and fills my blemished chasms with lava glow
that pours on aging years a lulling bright
then unto where my love resides; would flow.

Resist no more! Her golden tempt demure
deserve I not, yet what will age assure!

Shall I proclaim the greatest love can be?
In Gods' own current I - so swim that creed
with breath that gills his bible taught decree
wrought from his holy sons' rebirthing deed.

Yet tho' to Cesar I'll bequeath my land,
in yonder womb my pith shall go to him
and if then questioned faith by judged demand
I shall exclaim a hymn that none bedim.

To kin I've rendered love and neighbour's - truth
my wife alone has seen my barest form
and born therein your image brought in youth
for so the young were blessed of no deform.

My Fathers' law shall be until I've died
then unto grace in light will I abide.

As I beheld a star that weeps my eye
I plead and pry to glimmer brighter glow
as pledged in bedside woe by lips now dry
Marie awry; did then avow to show.

Distort no stellar veil - lie not to grief
whom seeks relief bestowed in speck of night
if none so shrine as bright; this meet be brief
I then debrief upon another light.

The choice of guise my love Marie so pined
is you remind of how she'd need arrive
for dark you thrive; so spread the mole to mind
left her behind, hence why - I now contrive.

Reveal her! Lighter of seraphs - that's mine
At last! Marie shines down on me - divine.

The bodied lilly fires in ashing haze
and from her amber embers I devolve,
into a weeping candle - churning maize;
an orb at night, alight to my absolve.

Remorse suffused with jasmine glazes woe
as moonlight trailings battle hue my grief
for left no infant child to mirror so -
my lover's petals, ceasing lines of leaf.

Nor have, I flare to scribe a marbled ode
that could so hymn or bear my love that shared
nor stone as cold as grey, be just; that owed
the flaming satin, fate had not so spared.

Then let this writ incense - her newly form
until my vigil dims; to death's reform.

Should grief be drowned in waving thrones of sea
bereft as me; shall boat and venture deep
until that ever spanning moat has me
then salty hearse's cleanse - that I not weep.

If seagulls flock the sky above this scene
then fly them lower here and feast debris
for little worth has lovers' break - that been
as sheathing sinks, the fishes then agree.

No shrine would rise beneath the liquid tomb
the ocean bed shall crest my seams as shells
tho' here no flag nor plankton mark old bloom
concealed in sand, from shores and tiding swells.

The bay entices me, whom sprayed with brine
but I shall wander on; in shards of mine.

Conversing lover's tongue - I may neglect
to discourse plainly love, beheld and true
as noted oft; when sultry day's effect
and wine that doused your play could not outdo.

Bereft none, ardent lust transcends accent
if measure need be - time my other speech;
the pash upon your jewel I've descent,
until in tone you've pled for deeper breach.

If still unwise - let know I've curbed cascades
tho' early tidal swells have raised herein
it's flow are liquid signs that love pervades!
That then have gushed to honor you therein.

So swim my words of love within your womb
and find that home, so say my love in bloom.

If truest sleep shall take my love aloft
as brittle fate appears to favor course
to yonder past the murk - as journeyed oft
and I as sullen, cause to bide remorse?

Assure that I embraced with amber glow
aspired her peach as sunlight would the shore
enhanced by myths alike; bestowed by bow
tho' wistful I - as could in depth been more?

Did roses blush while shades of mine had part,
did timbre sweeten less from out my tune.
Tho' I exalted - with a song in heart!
A lover's ballad praising us in boon.

Ah, know that each an' love I've given true!
For none alive so loved, nor can renew.

Reflective lining bears the passing years
of crinkles carved and worn to that of age
and from the mirrored galls a hearse appears
with thought to carry; when shall death upstage?

This day? When larks resound of warbling birds
as garden's glaze, the vernal blossom glows
amongst are playful kin of callow words
and yonder meadow green, my love in pose.  

Caressed by cherry blossoms, from a time
when youth we swayed beneath that ruby tree,
her amber curls would kiss verdure in prime
with lissom twirls that blessed my eyes to see.

When I shall drift away from worldly plush
and leave I shall, let not; in springtime lush.

If I pronounce to him a fool who'd part
with you, the whitest swan a bevy flies
then I shall too as now be cast apart
for lesser man is he that never tries.

Tho' take no ballad' sign of my requite
assure that there's a yearn within desire
for toiled have I in lusts refrain despite
for your above as I have dwelled the mire.

Tho' should your love upon me bathe and shine
would I in grasp accede that ruby stone
then place that gem to near the pith of mine
and dance around that rose uncovered throne.

So then accept this writ as love's own line
and should it pierce a heart, then love be mine!

Shall I exalt your grace as season's bring?
In winter; you're a frosty glazed escape
upon the icy sculpts of harps and string,
then plays the autumn leaves, that oaks undrape.

The ochre glides as you cavort the green
till blossoms bow; to all your springlike glow,
amidst the roses we proclaim a queen!
A spring vernal upon us - you bestow.

When dew has dried by amber's master hue
and caroms off the sea the summer beams,
within akin; devotes my lovers view
that eyes azure could match the ocean's seams.

My many seasons you are in cascade!
This love shall bask in each - when one is made.

Of nature's pairing hearts that love renowned
shall I compare the depths of those duets
to virtues won, betrothed and then have bound
this noble cause and gift, that none forgets.

As doves through ether, we ascend delights
no frost shall haze the wings on truest path
tho' wind and rain befits the winter nights,
near maple leaves we warm; as singles bath.

The Swans devout will glide the lakes unknown
we two abound, prevailed by mantras vows
and when apart in bevy we have flown
shall wait till night when lovers dance allows.

As rare as diamonds forged for cupids' stone
is love we found alike - the emblems own.

Shall I return to poems scribed of old?
That once with each a turn and covered page,
bereft a seeping fume that laden bold
and from that glyphic smudge - her cursive stage.

For still upon the tips of ink parades
the lissom bride beheld with gentled hand,
and prose's vigil neath the dust pervades;
that either I immerse within, or strand.

Though lyric embers flare her ardent kiss,
embedded texts peruse a lover's loss,
then should the torment forge my own abyss
the depths shall shadow me amongst the moss.

At least in chasms; beloved reels inside
so dwell shall I - where love has not yet died.

Forgone into the nether realms of grief
with piths embalming loves' corrosive drear.
Bemused; for worldly plush negates relief,
If woes be - known; how differed earths veneer?

Verdure would tinge a molten shade of lime
the oaks will mourn their leaves, and cease the Spring's
with wilting plumes adrift the songbirds prime
and dimmed the sun as dark as lovelorn brings.

For pebbled hues of grey will shroud the skies
and cursive lacquer; etch this sickly mold,
the winds will howl forebodes of vows and lies,
no more shall grace nurture upon this wold.

This suffered love cascades and dwells as deep
if even touched by Gods - would thunder weep.

The snowy lilies gird her pith - in wake;
bejewelled love reposed in truest sleep
as Floras' wreath outdone by sorrow's make,
then thought; what comfort worth are stems - to weep?

Could petals glint upon her sombre plume
and sorb bereaving rain - of mourning kin,
or priestly Latin's timbre out of gloom
and Schuberts' toned refrain - a lighter hymn.

Although, a striking; flowered plush pervades
as fragrance spliced with copal - yields in heart
and over each an ashing pyre cascades,
begotten times and seasons - death not part.

Embraced the blossoms, now upon her lay;
a sweeten lilly - kissed by loves defray.

Routinely lark, though this day depth therein
bemused as why the warbling fluter turned
instilled and sung laments, residing within
and perched unkind; that brittler branches - spurned.

Melodic angst has never sprung so dim
and tunes of fathomed trebles; parted love?
Perchance the ballad pours a swansong hymn;
and from aloft the skies - returns a dove.

If song an' bird be taken dazed with stars
beliefs contort and bowing strings apart
nor stealth be known as fervent dwells the scars,
though bleak the lust for any other heart.

O' feathered, pennate cherub play her whim!
Remain upon the sill and bygones swim.

In homage - splicer of Aladdin's reel;
a bow, beneath the centered piece so drawn
and slants alive in shade of noblest seal,
no other blushing temptress ever worn.

To hasten tryst; may taint her Jasmine gaze
as lashes flutter onto other's love
how then beguile and keep her ardent daze,
thereby no more in spite - a lonely dove?

The mystic canvas; mine - eternal beat,
and soars in winds, which sail's her gentled tones,
adrift and glides, to bloom this rose, complete
once withered long beneath the hermit stones.

If journeyed nether brittle; sways no guise
remote and marvel then - her Jasmine eyes.

The nightfall smears a biding shade and plume
as Nyx complexed the clear diurnal day
and skews the stoic lensing out of gloom
alike the hearted Eros, wrought his sway.

How still the specks of frost on balm and reed
like stars arranged in view for crystal eyes,
and glazed upon the tips; a sweetened mead
which lovers strive in truthful, purple prize.

A sullen stratus coats the idle orb
succumbs the amber beams to patchy lure,
and from within uncertain skies absorb
a kindred duel; dreamers must endure.

Tonight, the morrow, all thereon to be
to ardors flux; at night is when to see.

Scouring walls
sanding hands
grazing galls
varnished strands

upward stroll
winging tips
silent roll
grooving rips

sighing depths
whispers fall
staining breaths
unknown wall

senses bare
flooring sand
wetted air
dripping gland

morose dew
sickly lashes
mourning pew,
perching ashes

sleet-river veins
mist-tide lobes
stringing strains
vermilion globes

pale slim
stilling beat
liquid brim
sinking seat.

If reached beside the pearly cradled rose
therein a rattling joy; o' stillborn child.
What uttered mine - unsaid angelic prose,
should passing lay my husk and essence wild?

Awaiting yonder womb were tepid wings;
inflamed with bonding warmth of kinship love,
like softly feathered pads and rocking swings
then ardent glows, as seen and known above.

The wailing babe is music sung and sought,
for more a sleepless dusk - had since apart.
For eyes which never opened wide were wrought
and taken here and strolled in golden cart.

Should words in amber fail and infant pine,
behold the spectrums soul, the same as mine.

My grief is told of yonder meadows green
how far, as they appear - from crater deep,
shriveled of stream which perfused this ravine
how can I weep - as none is left to seep.

No petal bloom unfurls, nor ruby shine
for withered wrought the scalding cupid sun,
begot but mine and left a hollow shrine
wherein its done, was fought and sorrow won.

I droop like snowdrops within summers haze
and drift away in hope of Floras' Spring.
To mourn is daze - mislaid in trepid maze,
alike ivy that wring, I tie like string.

The distant lush is all but spectres of lime
yet may I find, the greener grass, with time

Wherein the haven, my own stillborn child?
The cradle couldn't illumine gilt enough
or crafted pure, as love and kin is styled
even if cushioned - in abodes of fluff.

To wonder, eases tears regarding why
and tunes the silence of idle bluebirds,
as Springs' rebirthing season traversed by
which lingers only clouds of greyish girds.

As I remain within the sombre sky
and plead of brighter days - to this unborn,
it dawns as timely - everyone shall die
and light shall perish all the darkened mourn.

Wherever wings the baby souled divine
assure to find - O' little one, and mine.

Shall I endure her vilest winter frost
and splay archangels in the idle snow
until the maple sequins ochre glossed
cavorting upon autumns brittle glow,
thereon in spring rebirth and bloom delights
were to retain the lust of our romance
and when summer's a haze of tepid lights
shall we exult upon the bay in trance,
ashore her amber braids ablaze in strands
and lustre into my myopic eyes
carom thereafter onto golden sands
careening then onto the grainy spies

as long as her diverse seasons cascade
myself alone shall wait till summer's made.

It is quite balmy here by the bay
dally I may and sand I play
cuddling and puddling into a grainy muddling,
I fray away - in this, a golden day.

The scorching sky-ball rays bequeath
a vermilion wreath on my bones' sheath
doth it burns and churns yet how lovely the terns
whom glance beneath - ruby-me they seeth.

The Gulls flock in a white lustre
within a cluster paced muster
though in such rank, a gap is manque and in that flank
without fluster - I desire to soar in bluster.

To fly amidst the cloudy haze
in fluffed graze and twilight maize
would release the strain and reign of the pain;
from my darkest daze - into the briny bays.

Let tokens of a lost love seep
into the deep where I canst weep
and remnants of swill be fed to Brill by powering will
as such creatures keep - secrets asleep.

Sea currents drift my melted plume
cleansing a hearted tomb of gloom
of broken Sherds whilst girds the birds
fashioning in loom - as I soak in spume.

In praise to the salt queen I exalt a moan
taking in loan a swig from the throne
she clings and stings but I adore summer flings
returning in prone - the blend with my own.

Stumbling now to a neighbouring dune
I swoon and reflect in boon
that sorrow from Algea I borrow, can wait the morrow
wild wraiths be hewn - by this remedial tune.

How illuminate! This majestic bay
where dreams pray and verily splay
that waves of oceans bring notions of emotions;
from burdens' weigh - one escapes by the bay!

It is lonely over here
in the corner dim, the bar a-brim
frothing at spill - the suds of swill,
yet I perch still
for neither beer nor cheer; all alone in my sphere,
a shadow - shadowing over here.

Wistfully - I entreat the shore
that tiding sea - swell comfort on me;
briny in spume - cleansing n' bloom
my wreathy loom,
by Poseidons' lore; soak me in bore - that I languish no more
away, away from the lonely shore.

I splay to the moon
let celestial light pierce me a-bright,
that illuminate rain purge the strain
away from this pain,
though sparkle the dune - I mope and swoon the absence of boon
ever still lonely - lonely by the moon.

Dreadfully I grow weary
now in retreat - to an abode of sleet
frigid like the maze pulsing this daze,
my core – it frays,
too numb to be teary, bleak and ill-dreary - at night it is eerie
so - so alone and weary.

A silhouetted stray
internee of mourn, corona unborn
if only I borrow - a longing for the morrow, to slumber this sorrow;
on clouds I pray with seraphs I sway - to hymns of May
dreaming - dream of a silhouetted stray.

It seems that unborn offspring
passing before birth
actually yield in the Spring
in blossom fragrant mirth.

In floret violet haze
hyacinths cluster eyes
harmonic in swaying gaze.
budding - the unborn guise.

Robins melodically ode
tuning for mothering Flore
that blessed be an abode
unlike dreams lost before.

Snowdrops, are stillborns,
eager infants - were close
sadden bells still mourns
eluded breaths and bows.

Garden times of springs
sensor a revival of life
a budding glow that brings
ardent greeters to rife.

If the azure glow of the ocean
is summers' own liquid crest
then the curling swells in motion
are the flag ripples in zest.

Unfurl! Fissure - our queen of salts
your pulse surveys our shores
kissing the sands in wavey waltz
and bequeaths the pearly spores.

Tepid husks under amber beams
yearn for littoral embraces,
quench all sheath burnt seams
and drench the basking faces.

Spray your song of briny mirth
tickle our drum-shells with hush
in whisper sing of tiding worth
breeze their sultry summer crush.

Bustling simpers ode your grace
sodden granule shrines arise
the hustle rush - infants chase
you splatter and belch in prise.

Shimmer the peach and the blue!
Wing the terns of whitish grey,
this season a-bore without you
vast emblems, of the golden day.

A cluster of engraved birches
personifies a love of old,
upon sequins – Eros perches
bowing echoes 'long the wold.

Sweeten dew of noble rain
debris not – the emblem crust
nor bird of plumage stain
the hearted sketch of trust.

Nimble scouts of chirping worth
cavort and tune a number
wrought the song of her ole mirth
upon the sleek n' lumber.

Spectres - Illume of gold
stipple maps the spine
each bark n' rip that holed
glistens that was mine

Shrubbery - melodious swaying
curious tips like many eyes
as though my love were playing
and I - was in her guise.

Amorous whispers breeze;
she lingers not 'neath the burrow
but bristles with the trees,
in rooted limbs that furrow.

Wonder if - by the brook
the hustle, still she graze
of gentled hand n' took
and swept my ardent daze.

When aboard and ponder
I drift back to amber birches
there in idle wonder
bequeaths - my soulful searches.

Past week, on the night of Tiw
an uneasy candle-flame wavered
censored by hushed air kisses
casting doubt upon an ode;
scribing the blessed years of youth.

This pine scented disturbance
no doubt - an Autumnal message;
that rear weathered doors
failed in the tempered change
curiously bidding, further venture.

Patio' marbles were shrouded
creeping with expired foliage
leaves tainted old hickory
near devoid of all famed ochre,
merciless to breaths of the fall.

That sombre mulched pattering
was alike wistful wondering;
of delicate and shadowy footfalls
from condemned, exiled seraphs
strung by moonlight rays.

The flavescent master glistened,
whilst duelling a clouded force;
enclosing in vaporous march
smearing pebble trailings,
the skirmish roused nostalgia.

For eerie quivers - of familiarity
wrought from the despondency,
as if epitaphed notions of old
were recited by alto whistling,
each note rekindling a memoriam.

An exhale of soulful proportions
sent adrift an essence;
a smouldering encirclement
of exhumed - solemnly recalls
taken from seasonal chapters of yore.

Those hearted ashes of distant times
cavorted - as sterling embers
with a phantasmic replica
of an adoration long gone,
duetting on pockets of melancholy.

Then beauty settled into a sepulchre,
caressed by grieving wreath petals
saddened by silken veil,
awaiting the fateful - dust and sand;
the remnants of embodied divination.

Revived dolor swelled from within
tiding from old, emotive cicatrices
buried deep and then deeper
until from this panoramic taunt
does this churned anguish vein.

A corrosive, timely hiss from Carpo
brushed the illusions past
as once - to a maidens' mortality;
a premature cremation of dreams
lingering the bitterness of decay.

As the pining sky orb retreated
so too - this observer with mourn
stuttering farewells to the nameless
then returned to the forgiving study
to immerse again - in better times.