A walk on the beach in the morning
is never a simple affair
once the dog is dressed and the kid's on the leash
we leave with the breeze in our hair.
We walk along the shoreline
and watch the changing tide
we clamber over rockpools
where creatures deftly hide.
I'm not a morning person
My brain remains asleep
for at least two hours after
my eyes begin to peep.
So I take in the horizon
with a deep and grateful sigh
while boy and dog go running
off to greet some passers by
the fishermen are chatting
showing them their daily catch
while the dog he begs for something
from the bucket, just a scrap
So the guy picks out a live one
and shows it to the pup
who jumps away quite quickly
treats forgotten, heckles up.
My son he takes a finger
and reaches out to feel
this shining, writhing creature
in a bucket made of steel.
He flinches as it flips it's tail
annoyed that he can't catch it
but it slithers through his tiny hands
and back into the bucket.
We turn our tails and head for home
and talk of what we've seen
the boy says in his grown up voice
lets not have fish for tea.

Tonight you left me breathless
You grabbed me by my hair stared,
then kissed me deeply.
You tethered our lips and my soul followed.

As we interlaced our bodies,
I wondered where you'd gone.
My husband, so gentle and caring,
had taken me by surprise.

Your eyes normally closed for a kiss,
blazed and made me crave more.
You broke away from our pleasure
Leaving me altogether undone.

Who was this man? I'd seen you daily
yet here before me was a new being.
I felt a slave to your passion
British men don't kiss like that!!

Night heat, sweat, and alcohol
lifted the veil of lace from my eyes
you, were now my possessor
I your possessed.

Turning forty had made you an aggressor
And, we the transgressors of the night
Breathlessly I managed to stutter
"You don't kiss like this"

As I shuddered you replied
"Yes, I ******* do "
And continued with your displays.
My body, the storyteller of our pleasure.

I wish for silence
I wish for peace
I want you all to be silent
I don't want to hear you any more.
I feel awashed with voices talking at once.
SHUT UP
I'm begging please just one night of peace.
I don't want to care
I don't want to lay my heart bare
I don't want to bare my soul
SHUT UP
I'm sorry your dead
I'm sorry you left things unsaid
I'm sorry they can't see or hear you
**Just get out of MY HEAD

My words are my armour, my blade, my security.
I use their definitive purpose to strike, to wound, to ****.
I have no need to use an actual knife, my rapier bladed tongue
cuts with an accuracy of a surgeons scalpel.
If you have no parry, or riposte, I'll Épée a thrusting word like the sword.
Your entire being is a valid target, I cannot fight with fists, I cannot crush
you physically, but mentally I will make you my target for words.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones! but words will never hurt me"

Oh, but they will hurt. Long after a scar has healed, a cut has scabbed,
words will linger, haunt and remind your every waking moment of the day you picked a fight, a dalliance if you will with a lexicographer.

Like fairy dust caught in dappled sunlight they dance.
Swirling gracefully like a ballerina pirouetting
on a child's music box.
Graceful specks of fine dirt engrossed in cloaking
surfaces smooth and coarse.
Like petticoats caught in a summer breeze
rippling, and dipping, causing a sneeze.
Dust motes like a kilt swirling,
whirling in the kaleidoscope of daylight,
engross you in devoting a poem to their dance.
Those molecules, atoms of time passed.

I will scream into the void with you. Take my hand, let me calm your fears.I will weave my words into a shelter, a place of grace for your troubled heart.

Walk with me until the stars dim forever, until the sun implodes and only dust remains. I am here with you, there with you. Let my tangled thoughts be your remedy, your darkest dreams my salvation. Take my light, for I would rather walk in darkness unending than see the weight of sorrow on your pretty brow.

You are my privilege, my haven, my friend, this will always be, as long as there is breath I will use it to sing of my wonder at your strength and my joy at your existence.

If you believe in nothing else, I beg that you believe in me

Woman born with a
Hope filled soul
Openly emotional and

Individually complex

Atypically childless yet,
M**other to man.

Where do you go? When you're not here? Do you miss me? I do.

I miss the me that was without all that you are.
I miss the me before that moment when the earth stopped spinning at your hello.
I miss the me that believed in love and had not witnessed the irony of your beautiful scars.
I miss the me that didn't hurt, that rode the wave and let things be what they would.
I miss the me that never felt your touch, that never brought his lips to yours.

Now, I am consumed. Swirling within your grief at being taken, drowning within my grief at the sound of our boy's laughter.

Now I am lonely, my thoughts of you driving me further from the light and deeper into a melancholy orbit, where the only existence is within your unbeating heart.

I see you, all the time, a suggestion of the life I could have had, had the reaper played fairly, his attraction to your flame stronger than mine.

There is no regret here, I loved, deeply and without remorse, every inch of your being.

But today, I'll die a little. For you.