The stars of peace warm me,
the light blue fire that burns above us.
So my heart expands to see your love
like the sky that burns before our eyes.

I keep touching your hands,
laughing at our past, seeing the pictures,
remembering the sunsets and darkness.
I can only say how I love you, like
a dream your touch carries me.

There are some days when the skies
and the earth become grey, it is the time
when  the ants can't find their queen,
and the axe can't cut into it's wood, because
the victory was so long ago.

In a child's heart the wooden stairs were
steps to dreams, perfections, holiness,
and so I wish that in this moonlight
I'll look in the stars and find you there.

So I repeat and  remember the praises of the
night, the sweet solace of crowns
that unite the sky,
the embers of sweet memories.

It's November, I feel the war is almost over,
Poland will find peace again. But the war has taken me,
for I only feel the blackness of sorrow,
all of my strength is falling apart.

Oh, my spirit is falling, falling like the purple sunset,
My beloved,  
   I'm fading in the cradle of your prayers
All my soul is hungry for strength,
   the sweat under my side
and the thorns of confusion and heaviness
are only growing stronger.

Keep me awake, dear.
   Tell me about when we met,  when you
smiled with curiosity  when you first saw me.
  Tell me about the time when we hid and laughed
behind the schoolyard,
   right by the flower fields where we played hide and seek.
The time when our souls  only sung with power and laughter.

Now beneath our old house, our home, I can't hide anymore.
I can't hide the hurt, the pain, the sorrow, but I do know
the flames of grace burns over and over, so don't you cry.
The psalms we use to sing, they also heal, yes, they also heal.

So remember me,

   and the star I gave you, for then I'll be with you,  

near the altar of your heart,
by the silver rivers of memories and love, because then

I'll always be your hero and heart,
your wildfire within.

I saw Jane
by the water tower
in Bugs Lane
I had come from home

after helping my father
saw logs in the shed
she looked pretty
in the sunlight

her dark hair
seemed aglow
and as I approached
she smiled

and it pinched me
inside in a way
I couldn't fathom
she had a book

in her hand
and swung it
back and forth
like a priest swung

the thurible at church
what have got there?
I asked
as I was by her side

it's a book
on British butterflies
she said
showing me

the book cover
which had various
butterfly pictures
on the front and back

thought we may go look
for some of them
she said
it's Daddy's

but he said
I could borrow it
ok
I said

that'll be good
-but being with her
was the real joy
just breathing in

her presence
her fresh apple smell
was the real goodness-
so we walked up

the pathway up
to the Downs
trees on either side
keeping out

the hot blaze
of the sun
for a while
except where it

broke through
overhead branches
and there were birds singing
and flights of birds

crossing over
and above us
are you all right?
she asked

-Lizbeth was unmentionable
between us now
we just never
spoke of her-

sure I'm fine
I said
collecting chalk fossils
you know

the ones inside
rock chalk
found two shells
inside one last week

that's good
you'll have to show me
she said
they're in my show tank

I said
along with animal bones
and skeletons of birds
in my room

have to ask
your mother
if I can see them
with you

she said
as we walked past
the big hollow tree
-yet when Lizbeth

came to my room
a while back
she never thought
to ask my mother

if she could go
to my room-
after a while
we broke out

into the open
and the sunshine
warmed us
and it was like

being born again
up there on the Downs
the grass
and the flowers

and shrubbery
and I liked being there
beside her
in fact it was

a love thing
just being there
let alone being there
looking out

for butterflies
she was
the butterfly beauty
in my eyes.

"I wish to engage in many battles of the tongues with you, m'lady."

On the sixth day,
God created Man.
On the seventh day,
God rested.
And for days and days onwards,
Man demanded
more, more, more.

We devoured every piece of fruit
from the Tree of Knowledge,
yet we still held out our grubby,
juice-stained hands,
asking Him
for more of the forbidden ammonia.

And still,
God provided.

His tired hands,
worn from work,
fashioned miracle after miracle
to feed our selfish desires
yet
it
was
never
enough.

To call ourselves
the superior species
would be too self-gratuitous,
too unfitting.

How can we call humankind
the top of the food chain
when humankind
has lost all of its humanity?

rhyming poetry?
Do I look like Doctor Seuss?
I'll stick with free verse