a girl kissed a boy
and told him not to tell
he grew up to be a poet
with a promise kept so well
till he wrote one day a poem
that she’s found reading, but forgot
and wondered if it’s really him
and thinking that it’s not
but buried within these pages
and hidden within the rhyme
were words dripping from his lips
caressing every line
so she came in a little closer
and read it to the end
and found him in the poem
and kissed his lips again

She said,
“My name is a flower, you see”

I said “Lily…it must be?”
She said, “no, no, no!…

...a Lily…is soooo,
not as beautiful
as me”

She replies
bashfully and wise
I’m just as much beauty to the eyes
as I am to the nose.”

“Oh!…you must be Rose”
She laughed
and cried more ‘no’s’

“It sounds a little crazy
I know and maybe…
but you must be a Daisy??”

she giggled all the more
“who knows?”
and winked
“.. if only baby”

Finally,
I put my thinking aside
I tell no lie,
while I, still in my head
wondering

she sighed

”My names not ‘white’ or ‘plain’
‘Self raising’ “, she said
”…is my name”.

A blind woman gave birth
to the most beautiful girl
on earth

She could feel her heart beat
but could never see her face

She could touch her hand
but never saw her
eyes of grace

She could smell her skin
but never seen
her smiling

a beautiful blind woman bore
the most beautiful woman on earth
who saw her mother more

than just with eyes and all their worth

That day,
when I turned
and saw your eyes,
the sun grew in size
That kiss
upon your lips
exploded the stars
into shimmering
ships
Sailing away
to where
the 14 moons
of Neptune
were due
to rise

Come, sit beside me
Grab a chair, a stool, a couch
Bring coffee and conversation
we’ll slump, chill and slouch
It matters not on where you sit
nor on, where you stand as well
As long as you come in peace
with things to share and tell
It’s of little concern what you look like
or the accent that you leak
as long as you make a good coffee
and we listen when each speak
on a matter of personal opinion
maybe another point of view
So let’s enjoy each others perspective
and feel free to express them too

May the flames of my heart
become the fire we start
between us and the storm

May the furnace in my soul
be the heat for the coal
that keeps our children warm

May the spark of my mind
become the flint that you find
lighting the darkest dawn

May the air in my lung
breathe the breath of the sun
and birth life into a love reborn

May the jewel in my eye
Have you searching the sky
and all the riches heaven has sworn

I’m hanging
on the ‘y’
of your goodb  e
                         y

You can’t keep holding on
to disaster
Disaster has no heart
but to destroy
You need to live
happily ever after
Danger is not a toy
I say this because I love you
I say this because I’m a friend
I say this because I need you
I need you here to the end

Drawing little tears
I trace around lines
small oval shaped drops
I cut away from your eyes
pasting them in a scrapbook
for the hurting to see
Inviting all to look
how sorrow is set free
tear out the paper
fold into a plane
crease down the corners
and fly away the pain

I can break in and find another place
among company where you feel free
yet strangers become foe or friend
or an unwelcome guest with a key
I can manipulate my way into a heart
or force the love of someone else
but I don’t think I’d feel I ever belong
If I cannot first live with myself

What was known yet unseen
was a king and a dying queen
holding their last kiss good bye
That day the kiss died

He then ordered all his men
to bind all lovers in his den  
Every embrace ever lied
The day the kiss died

The Judge and the Law
all came to find flaw
In any poet or guide
The day the kiss died

Finding two lovers, that spoke
of how his and her lips broke
Evidence, they could not hide
The day the kiss died

They cried,
“We hold and we touch
yet it’s not enough in as much
a kiss can’t be denied”
The day the kiss died

With a kiss hid in their heart
They tore them apart
and took them aside
The day the kiss died

Children chanted, “the kiss of death
will draw your last breath.
Don’t or dare to no longer abide”
The day the kiss died

And all the people they wept
and the sweepers that swept
the sad streets, they sighed
The day the kiss died

In lace they all dressed
in hope to lay the last kiss to rest
In a coffin to confide
The day the kiss died

That night,
Artists repainted the sky
Lanterns hung high
In the black rain they cried
The day the kiss died

While white doves bled red
It was heard and it was said
even the angels cried
The day the kiss died

The clowns in all places
Painted a frown on their faces
for all grooms and the brides
The day the kiss died

Old widows slept as it seems
waiting for their dreams
nuns by their side
The day the kiss died

The romantics broke doors
of bottle shops and liquor stores
yet the wine had all dried
The day the kiss died

Yet, still up north and down south
lovers, for love, open their mouth
welcoming death near and wide
The day the kiss died

I walk a lonely alley off a quiet dead end street
at the gushing blow of where the wind and I meet
I clench my coat across my chest, turn my collar for warmth
my hat is flung off my head by the coming storms
my tie has flown and ***** like the tail of a kite
stripped right off my back, my coat puts up a fight
I tug back my shirt, but it’s bye byes across the sky
Like a black bird bleating I wish myself to fly
I extend my arms, running, like a plane off the ground
The winds undress me, more clothes dropping down
Soaring over cities, buildings and their blue seas
releasing the fabrics of my life now escaping me
I’m naked, but warmed by the layers of rays from the sun
nothing now matters than this feeling of having won
against the wind, an open sky, beyond the cast shadows below
I freely fly, with nothing on, but the air and where the wind may blow

I don’t know about you
but words won’t let me sleep
They slip and steep
into my covers
before I do

I don’t know about you
but rows of prose
run through my head
I’m hugging thoughts
close to me in bed

I don’t know about you
but my dreams
are filled with them too
it’s all I think I do
I need rest from this mind
waking with words all the time

I don’t know much about you
but what if I was to
really get to know you?
Maybe you’d save me
from being lonely, poetry
and another rhyme

Returning nests to their trees
Raking the wind for the leaves
You’re too busy to miss me

Creating shadows behind a screen
Stitching seasons at their seams
You’re too busy to miss me

Gathering the stars and their gleam
Scattering fears and their screams
You’re too busy to miss me

Washing winter in it’s stream
Painting the world a brighter green
You’re too busy to miss me

Missing me would mean
taking away your dream
…so please, don’t miss me

Pins upon my pillow
puncturing my brain
Sprinkling out my dreams
like sleeping in the rain
Flowing out my nightmares
Rivers run in my bed
Swimming in my dreaming
Plugging holes in my head
My mattress is floating
My soul is sinking slow
Down the river drowning
and in my dreams, I row…row… row…

All along while you were sleeping
beneath the gaze of a missing moon
a light was lost, left us questioning
a sunrise too late? or a sunset soon?
There came tears, downward streaming
it’s disappearance remained unknown
only howling wolves remembering
the night the moon, left the night alone
They blamed dawn and dusk for stealing
none dared to dream another dream
all through the night of restless sleeping,  
weeping was heard across the stream
The night lamenting in search of light
The wind blew lanterns flaming high
the day was to be spent to make it bright
by flicking fire to burn the sky
till silver ripples appearing on the bay
there a moon settles from a journey far
returning home and on its way
from the funeral of a falling star

Just like a shirt cannot
hide the hurt
or a headache
beneath a hat

nor a heartache in a suit
or cold feet in a boot
or glove for a trembling hand
neither a thought I think
could be bound
by a headband

You may appear
cool, calm and collected
but make-up and costume
cannot hide the bleeding
of a wound thats infected

I slept on the bed
of a poet, Gibran
and there fell a poem
into my head
like a song…

“One day you will ask me
which is more important?
My life or yours?
I will say mine
and you will walk away
not knowing
that you are my life.”

I slept on the bed
of a poet, Gibran
and my dreams were filled
in my heart was a song
a longing so sweet
a desire too strong
till the museum guard came
and moved me along

This spoon is bigger than my plate
these green peas are bigger than your mouth
like the big words that are bigger than this conversation
It’s making this evening hard to swallow
your big eyes are bigger than my lies
and this lie is bigger than the both of us
you tell me to be the bigger man
now here I am

A child found her soul mate
beneath the tears of her eyes
so she kept them in jars of clay
with sighs and gentle cries
wishing the days away
till that day when they would meet
and gift him the collected tears
in the jars when they would greet
Lifting lids from off the jars
he would hear the cry of her heart
pouring them into his soul
she wish washed his will to part

Tonight
I will not be sleeping
till I write the words
that are keeping
me awake

Tonight
I’ll make the most
of a late night evening
and by the morning
waiting
for you to wake

Tonight
Who’d have thought
I’ll be weeping
while you’re dreaming
words too late

Tonight
while gone
I keep writing
alone and grieving
words I wish I wrote
and now reaping
your fate

”Don’t look!”, mother said
“It’s not for your eyes to see”
So it sat there, that little red box
in-between curiosity and me
“Be a good boy and put it down
promise to never open the lid,
You never un-see, or undo
a memory, you wish you never did”

I traced the edge, gave it a shake
and placed upon it my ear
listening what may mysteriously make
that ruffle from what I could hear
So I sat a lot, wondering what
could possibly be inside
It’s only a peak, I’m much too weak
my conscience I cannot hide

It can’t hurt, no one will know
after all, it’s just a little look
I’ll open and close, see how it goes
no harm, just like a book
tempting as is, a ‘sorry’ can’t fix
I wish to have kept my word
when mother was gone
and I, with the box alone
peeped in and out flew a bird

I’m sorry
if I’m a little lost
when the mind is free
the body follows at a cost
till you’re broke and can’t pay
the soul is stolen away
leaving the shell of a ghost

Forgive me
if I’m a little used
when you’re careless
you casually bruise
till you’ve bled no more
have no life to pour
the spirits withered
and abused

My apology
for being a mess
when what’s of value
becomes little to confess
when what you hold
is worth all the gold
and you give it up
for lentils or less

I waited for the breeze
to ******* the fragrance of your hair
your curls were caught in the wind
your strands strangled me of air
I waited for the breeze
to ******* the scent of your skin
but the sweetest of oils from your pores
were diamanté drops dried by the wind
I waited for the breeze to bring me
the fresh breath of your mouth
The wind welcomed the smoke
I chocked, crying like a cloud

If you asked me, to get to you
which of the two would I cease?
I would have enslaved the wind
my love, and set free the breeze

‘In her eye
is a butterfly’
I know…
sounds like you’ve heard this poem before
…may sound crass
But alas…allow me, a word or more

You may find
in the next few lines
what may sound a familiar tune
like butterflies and stars
heartaches and scars
or another poem about the moon

but…
this one’s eyes are rare
like caterpillars they’re
brought alive without a womb
and she breathes new life
with the flutter of  her eyes
yet she needs no cocoon

a tear dropped
from the face of despair
and wove it’s way down
it’s entangled hair
weaving through waves
of dry dead strands
it untangled the knots
the braids and the bands
sliding ever so slowly
soothing out like oil
every curve and curl
of every anxious coil
straightening the stress
as it falls to the ground
shaking your head off the mess
let your hair hang down

It’s a fork you don’t want to walk
It’s a mind you don’t want to find
It’s a fall you don’t want to crawl
It’s a rage you don’t want to cage
It’s a trap you don’t want to snap
It’s a sin you don’t want in

One may have knowledge
but not everyone will have skill

One may have a skill
but not everyone will have talent

One may have a talent
but not everyone will have a voice

One may have a voice
but not everyone has something to say

One may have something to say
but not everyone will listen.

Of such things
I cannot tell
The glory
of heaven or
the smoke of hell
yet of such
and much
my eyes do swell
so shut the shutters
lest the smell
rises to heaven
from the windows of hell
through the gates of God
and stink as well

A leech
at the beach
left it’s home at the pond
and as a result
of the salt
lost its ability to bond

Along comes a bird
without word
thinking it a worm, it plucks
so learn not to roam
too far from home
even if your life *****

Let’s plant this kiss
and bring forth fruit
our lips entwining
with tongue-like root
Let’s water this kiss
with tears we cry
over trees of life
lest they wither dry
Let’s bury this kiss
beneath our eyes
our last taste of sun
before light dies

The moon was afraid to rise
so it settled for the night
gave the day to the sun
and in doing
compromised its light
Now often every evening
as soon as the sun will set
it makes an appearance
before the sky and day reset
And like tears, the stars twinkle
while the moon mourns regret
how light once sparkled
now just sprinkle
of things you lose but can’t forget

Itsy bitsy spider
crawling in deceit
along came the truth
and stomped it with its feet

Down came the shoe
and squashed it’s organs out
splat like a web of lies
it’s bits all about