In BrokenTown it was one day,
I came across a spindly lass,
whose once clear eyes were darkened shrouds,
and weakened soul resembled clouds,
translucent after rain.

Oh,  I remember clear as day,
it was at the dusk of May
when the donkeys clacked and brayed,
when the farmers filled their hay,
and the maidens wore a veil to lure the future.

This young girl,  in tattered skin,
holding pain and hurt within,
drew a sympathy from all the sullen lives.

This girl was bones. She was so thin.
No muscles seen. A bony chin.
And lids which drooped, and watched with sharpened knives.

To pity her was not my dare.
I was so late. I should not care,
but I recall a day long in the past

when I too was lost and needy,
and long suffered by the greedy,
so I came to this young girl at the last.

Her worn out dress all dirt and shoddy,
clearly matched her worn out, used up body
and she struggled to sit up and plant a smile.

Said she... 'Sir,  for just a copper penny,
you can use my body plenty'.
Yet her face resembled madness,  and pure guile.

I had remorse for this young maiden,
whose young mind was clearly fading,
so I sat within her filth and held her hand.

Though she struggled to be free
her weakened self just failed to see
what a gift had come within the form of man.

So I bade her stand, to take her feet,
and I would give her life, complete
with every luxury a person could afford.

Then unbidden to her eyes,
shearing through her dark disguise
came a tear she had forgotten how to shed.

And all at once within her face,
was the misery replaced,
and that skin brightened up... the dark heart dead.

Thenso I took this girl to a place,
where she could live in love and grace,
to find a certain joy and life of love.

I thank the Gods I once went down,
to the heart of BrokenTown.
For in the **** I found a living dove.

Twin love

Infest me with your stolen kiss.
The very heart shaped lips I miss.
Creating love, within my breast,
a swollen heart, unfaltered test.

I sit here smiling, I am free,
to sail the stars, just you and me.
I woo, just you, and you, me too,
I love you my sweet Evening dew.

You are the sail. I am the song.
You are the wind. I am the gong,
that goes ahead, a heralds cheer,
and proclaims this... Twin loves are here!

The oceans bow to see our form.
The sunrise cheers to keep us warm.
The breeze regales a soothing balm,
as all about the world is calm

And so...

Aloft into the skies we climb,
two hearts as one; one heart in rhyme,.
And we will here,  forever be,
a single form, to sail the sea.

Lonely path

I tried to write my sins away.
But they have stayed another day.
No freedom comes,  though I believe.
No soothing call. No curt reprieve.

If I succumb this very night
If I walk, lost, to the grey light.
Would you remember all we had?
Could you recall when you were glad

to hold my hand and breathe in time
with my own breath, with my own rhyme?
Or would you know,  deep in your heart,
forgive, forget, regret... depart.

I know I lost. I know I failed.
I know the songs of me regaled
just wrath and pain, and tears of mist.
When all alone,  you cried and wished

that God had not sent you my way.
To walk the night. Deny the day.
And you would curse the God above.
In screams to take away this love,

which holds your hand, and guides your feet
to where,  at last,  our souls will meet,
within the clouds, or in the flame.
With the regrets, or less the shame.

I tried to write my sins away,
and so I kneel, and long I pray,
that God may turn aside my fear.
That God again, will lend His ears

I love my frog, my little Ever-Pie.
Beloved of my heart she is to me,
that when I caused my little one to cry,
I sensed her pain, and battled it, to flee.

I love her for she is my favourite lass,
she jumps into my arms, to see me smile.
I love to see her jumping in the grass,
or swimming contentedly all the while.

I love her for loves sake; she's worth it all,
she is the greatest pet, in all the world.
She'll be the best, til off the earth she falls,
and in her death, my sadness is unfurled.

Wait there for me, my glorious green sprite,
I'll seek you out; we'll travel through the night.

(I hope a modern poem.  But I don't know.  First attempt.)

There is a beautiful breeze by the sea,
but the wind will not connect you to the
Wi-Fi you so desperately seek,  holding
the latest phone up in the air,  as though
the sun will connect you to that guy you lust.

Nah. Just salt,  sea, and seasonal beauty...
A canape load of sea crustaceans too, waltzing around your stilllettos, like
lost PTSD veterans. Walking must be difficult.

The grains of sand pilfer your balance,
and you tumble to the wet **** of the
ocean,  which has been piling up for days
waiting for such a person to show up.

The calm of the ocean. The chuckling rage
of the mighty gulls. The clattering of those
**** ***** again. One has just clipped onto
your long heel.

Frustration. Anxiety. Regret. Maybe you should
not drink that home made crap your brother
made. Especially not on the beach... At night.
Alone. And where the hell were your friends?

The wind is whistling now. Spelling a
rhythm in the air which your deaf ears
will never hear. A music which has been
around long before you were a *****
floating around in misery, and will be here
long after your grave has disappeared
into the ages.

A song of the sea.

But all you hear are clattering noises,
disrupting your lesser IQ thoughts,
and that main concern that hopefully
after last night,  you are not pregnant.

If tender hearts unfolded wings,
what breeze would light our choices.
We'd fall on high into the sky,
and watch as day rejoices.

No scaly soul, or fears unrolled,
or claws which tend our fears.
No age old fire, burning mind so dire,
to grow us aged before our years.

So fly on high, my earthly friend,
unto the moon and back.
Climb towers broad, and breeze which flowed
and watch our evils crack.

Our darkness fades,  whilst in the glades
of evening we do wander.
We see the walls, the wholesome falls,
and stop to let our minds ponder.

If we were a dragon, oh just imagine,
what boundaries we could climb.
But it's all such a waste, for inside our dreams,
our fantasy belongs only in rhyme.

Redolent May sings,
lays of perplexing antique,
wooden rose flounders.
...
Fungi is in rout,
war of mushrooms is halted,
desolate treescape.
...
This is not a game,
the colours rest in spindles,
the flag is in truce.
...
Paragon of ice,
tractive glacier, no friction,
chronotropic death.
...
Scourged almighty sea,
symphonic ocean blasted,
tranced undertaking.
...
Mort, syphoned blood grass,
waving like entrails, flooded,
blood spins, grave now swims.
...
Gritty stagnant bole,
refurbished hybernation,
the scent come to play.
...
Reminiscent moon,
gather ye, encompassed light,
that we may know life