.
Honeybees, birds and blooms unfurl
an enchanting spell
when spring comes by here

Memories waft 'neath burled rustic trellis
where flowered tendrils grasp fleshly
like the newness a love once tenderly embraced

Songbirds in your garden sing
of swooning memories rapture.., of velvet eyes,  
the fragrant spicy nectar hidden within her walls                            

A song of honeyed bees'  sweetest stinger,
and the poignant ***** of intoxicating surrender
lingers, bemused spellbound by a thorny heirloom rose

Sharp beauty beloved like a blameless trap
caught blissfully, breathlessly inbetween
all you wish for and all your wanton needs

Desire 's wellspring an unspoken passion
coquet swollen buds adorn blossoming,
sensual, untamed carnal grace

A picture perfect natural beauty;
sunlit chassé … feathered brush, demure blush
dancing with basket of lace petal’d perfume

For to colour a heart's blank pages
rapt in the poesy a joyous ecstasy ..,
enrapture with rainbow's luscious taste

What seems lost is but a tender vestige unfound
a passing moments innocence lost
to steal away like rumors of gold

These silent reveries seep from a hole in my heart,  
as if ripe strawberries of yore, gently weeping sweetness
when pricked by a thorny rose  

The ides of spring do still bleed a timeless ache
onto the page ... sweet naivety stung
by a mesmerizing dart to the heart

Songbirds in your garden do sing
of sweetest things immersed in nature's nectar
blissful memories sleeping in the petals of a rose



Sung to the wind by a song sparrow — ♪ ♫...✩ ☼✩ ✩☺✩

.
An empty corner bends
beneath street lights working overtime
and a bench, cold and lonely,
damp from previous storms
and those threatening,
closing dark curtains
on a weary skyline,
beckons, offering a seat,
hard horizontal slats
last occupied by another
with hopes and dreams
left to wander, wondering why

A black cat crosses my path
and I laugh at its expression
Knowing it believes bad luck
will come of this, little does it know,
I have no path for it to cross,
no destination, no planned outcome
or luck to speak of
Pushing the crosswalk button
again and again
and still it reads "don’t walk,"
I do as I am told

I shouldn't look, what's the use,
it always the same, you spill your soul
and it's washed away with the last phrase
He gets them, oh he gets them
on every one, no matter what it is
and **** if she doesn't get them too,
hell even crap gets them,
far too many times
But I shouldn't complain,
it's nice being liked,
you don't even have to hear the click
It's just hard sometimes when you realize,
you're just not as good as you thought

Feeling drowsy now I settle in
on softened splinters and peeling paint,
counting passing cars like sheep
in the soothing flicker of
a faulty flourescent sign
at the 24 hour tattoo parlor
Where needles aren’t the only thing
spurting ink, perforating skin,
creating lasting impressions
that even a beautiful sunrise
can’t erase as I fall off to a world
that doesn’t seem so bad,
at least for a few hours,
hoping that when I wake
it wakes with me

You lot, you spend all your time thinking about dying.
Like you're going to get killed by eggs or beef or global
warming or asteroids, but you never take time to imagine
the impossible:

Maybe you survive.

The Ninth Doctor

Sink into the
softest bits of my
skin

Let me bottle
the scent of
your t-shirt
after you have
held onto me

Let me be the
gentle waves
that rock you to sleep

(A simple love)