I shall know when it  is  ready ,
my *** will start to boil ,
I shall know when you are ready
you’re heart will be tender and soft ,
not the frozen one I took out the freezer ,
when i was feeling lost .

But I kept it boiling for hours ,
and the water never spilled .
Or drained away to nothing ,
so it wasn’t burnt ,.. to a crisp .

So I shall season it with peppers ,
to give a wicked tough to you’re mouth ,
so sharp I shall grin from ear to ear just to hear the. words come from
you’re lips .

Then I shall serve it to you warm straight from my heart ,
with garlic and mustard just so it dos’nt ,
fall apart .,
just so I can hold you tenderly to my heart
.

felt the bone rattling chills. of the.night  against my face.


I have felt the hunger pangs of not enough food to eat ,
half starved by the cold and sometimes the snow .

To where I must go ?
Home ,
This is where I belong ,
not a warming stove a
nice coal fire .

To this is my home where no body cares if I awake ,
or die .
Or if frostbite tears my toe from my foot .
To this is a cap where only pennies not gold coins land .

And wait each day on this floor on the ground ,
for the general public to give me something to eat .

For yes I have slept in doorways past people walking by ,
in the street .
So cold are these nights alone on the streets .

This grave is now all I have of you ,
In silence and grief I think of you .
Where once our dreams they all came true ,
for now in death you depart .

A shallow pale leaves no earthly light ,
but for now at least you are shining bright ,
with God and his Angels and all that is true ,
so here is a rose I have picked for you .

It is a rose that grew out of soil ,
that once was crushed between the garlic and the clove that ,
you planted one day ,
you’re hands hid dirt ,
you’re hands a blood red ,
a love in you’re heart ,
for the wounds that we met .

For our love was like that flower deeply  embedded ,
then entwined ,
in my soul a ***** love not pure and kind ,
but the kind that lasted through so such turbulent times .

It was a kind of love that cut so deep ,
as that Thorne that made you’re bitter  hands weep .

But we watched it grow so tall and free ,
It’s scent as radiant as you’re love for me .

So I pulled it up and now I give it back to you ,
for you to be reminded  now you are dead ,
that thorns grow even now ,
all blooded and red .

Now there once was a pea lady who walked our narrow streets ,
as day light broke for sixpence she woke ,
her neighbors up each day .

So they could trudge for their bread for lunch ,
too feed their hungry souls ,
to walk each day in the pouring rain right up to the factory yard .

So many peas she shot that rattled each window frame ,
come rain come hell or shine ,she would be at it again ,
untill they all trudged down to that factory road .

Whilst others used canes or other noisy refrains.,
they all said was “ miss  Peawinkles  at it again .”
and “ those  ****** peas will be  the death of me ”
as they walked each day right up to the factory yard .

Now you are far from my touch, my hands ,and my face .For now I ihave lost you’re loving embrace ,
for the mountains don’t tremble they way when you were near ,
and you’re hand dos’nt make my heart quake  everytime you’re
hand went near .
For now  you are far you’re eyes have gone dim.
You’re eye lids have closed ,
you’re flesh  has gone pale ,
a pallor mortis of you’re skin that I once kissed with a.
loving grin .

The Crows have all gathered they are here in a field ,
now you lie next to you’re Father ,
as soil drops I hear it fall on top of you’re grave ,
for in love you were with me ,
now in death you are found .
Yet  the gardener will still find blooms in you’re hair ,
many years after I whisper you’re name to the moon lit airs.
Now  you are far ,
things can  never be the same,
the sunshine you brought when you called out my name .

So let the Nymphs of earth carry you away to some far away place ,
where we shall meet again some day ,
to Ride together for we shall become one ,
through forests past mountains to find the wings of the sun .
Yet now you are far and all that is left is a tomb ,
a single carnation now falls silent on you’re face

The Stag lies down
the crows peck at his flesh ,
he closes his eyes for  his mistress has died .So
Let  the winds cry fowl ,
as crows perch on the gate ,
as a strong winds howls
pray tell me I’m not too late ?

When the snow covers the hill tops ,
and turns to ice the mountainous springs ,
when angels wings covet the skies ,
when all that can be seen are these things .
For only  mountains split when  God is near ,
only then I shall  fall into you’re arms ,
because you are so dear .

So let  snow covered   mountains then  tremble in you’re sight ,
above the earth ,
where perfumed goblets pour out amugst the stars ,
and crows that once gathered ,
are now scattered near and far .

Then  statues of you and I will rise in marble and pure gold ,
their metals will glisten by the fountains of Bairn                           tthat     told by scribes that have long since died .
Passed  down though time bybirds with heads of maidens ,
for so black are their bodies ,
as we grow  old  ,
their faces gaunt and pale.
But our hearts grew strong in love and grace ,
even as our bodies grew weak and frail .

O then for  it is it not you’re beauty I await .

Now the song birds have fallen silent to this fate ,
so then do the stars and the moon await ,
and shadows in the garden now appear ,
now you are near .

And so when morning comes I shall await for the sun ,
it’s bitter cold winds now that mornings begun ,
on clouds carried by Nymphs of the earth
when Gods holy messengers cover their wings ,
for even they can’t look on such beautiful  things

For by this gate I wait for you’re return ,
where you’re Father lays buried  beneath the wings of the sun .

Then I hear the pounding of hooves ,
far away in the distance .
O now you are near ,
as my horse gains pace o so many the year,
as our hearts beat faster for now they are one,
two lovers together ,
their joy hath begun .
together forever ,
now you are near ,
by the grave of you’re Father how bitter you’re tears .

At home I have a colour box ,
which paints my poetry ,
some words I use a lot ,
for this never bothers me .

Some words are rich in thought my very special pens .
and some I just use a lot because I had forgotten,
every poem  ends .

But this one dos’nt it can paint with love and other different colours
unbeknown to me.
And so vast their tones and fortunes only seen through fervrant  eyes . So you with all your splendour when you’re thought prevail ,
amas you’re wondrous colours and dip into youre colour box again .