So frail she is, aged too,
but what I see every time
is a frozen leaf resisting
falling snow and whistling gale.

The grace she exudes grips
every time she passes me
in the morning or evening
her smile electrifies me without fail

In my bones it echoes, I felt
each smile brings instant delight,
I feel like it spreads in to my being
unlike the hollow smiles thrown at you.

What remains after one is gone
is to be felt much later by others
but to make the hollow deeply felt
in absence, their gifts in mind should persist.

what makes that huge difference,
now I grasp, her heart that has seen
many seasons, of human predicaments
and beaten in resonance.instantaneously
strikes a chord, with all, it's music to ears.

And it's a moment none would easily forget
she reflects the timeless grace humans acquire
through a life lived fully in mindfulness
I am embraced by grace, when her smile is gifted.

What remains when she has gone
is a serene sense of fulfillment, for having met
a luminous being, who without even a word
or touch, could make others feel nice and be better.

"Your shapely, bootylicious thighs,
carved columns of lubricious butter,
shouldn't be left without gently caressed,
til covered all over with ruddy marks of desire,
just strawberry goosebumps for ignorant  others"

When she snuggles closer to him, from the seat next,
as the train rocks and they rub,when gathering speed,
she sporting a marvelous mini dress engrossing his libido,
he whispers to her, who was all ears, "But my real object
of focus is the truth, that lurks where your thighs meet"

Blithe golden cloud, that once tugged at my heart strings
enigmatic pubescent,warm master work of raising steam,
you did drift too low, to be real for my sun scorched world
but deliberately pretended cold,when I waved, repeatedly,
I ardently wooed, to the alarm of your admirers, a legion
how I longed for the secrets, you whispered,know you more
aren't you fire within, that burns heart,lightening concealed?
Formed in sensual, undulating softness, hiding, fiery desires?

I waited, for you to touch ground, as you promised,to explore
being naive, you inadvertently tangled with the tree branches!
Obstructive self seekers,who craftily trapped you in thickets
and little by little, in grey strands you vanished in thin air...
A lesson to all straying cloudlets,I had to be sadly a witness.

She cries tears of mother's ruin
"Look at me!
It's been so hard
All of my life
And I've had to fight
For my own patch of light
Still, no-one ever looks at me"

He turns his eyes to the floor
Saying nothing
Feeling stupid
And his words burst like bubbles in his mouth
He is desperate to say something
Anything to make her happy
But he cannot turn disappointment
Back into youthful optimism
Or bitterness back to hope
As she sinks into smeary sobs
Wet and bleary loss
He takes her home

He undresses her and puts her to bed
Then he holds her as she cries
And he holds her as she sleeps
He hushes her when she stirs
And calms her when she starts and cries out
When the dreams become too real
And he shall never be more than this
Never more fulfilled
Caring for her is his only purpose
Making her happy is his holy grail
Willingly trapped within her pain
He is nothing else at all

                               By Phil Roberts

1.
Quite far you are,know not where, time and space remain fused,
But, our love is still a wild flower, that takes new avatars
Fully bloomed, defies sun and rain,other vagaries of seasons,
This love is beyond the thrills of flesh, not even nocturnal togetherness.
To plant a kiss of love on your lips,the wind will be my messenger,
With a gentle caresses  you will be reminded how my lips felt on yours,
In reciprocation, with your scent wind would envelop me on return.
2.
Our love has faced many harsh climes, still we persisted,
Fallen down and walked again limping, long distances,
Our love has martyr's blood  running through veins,still brave, sings
The song we loved, not together, a new light our love had found.
Beyond the point of togetherness,love is indestructible, defying logic.
3.
My flesh and blood would wither away,yours too have the same fate,
Your beating heart and mine,one day will embrace stillness.
Love has to live beyond the tunes of heart beats and our lives.

In wind and water, earth and fire, all over the vastness of space,
Millions would come together,in life, in death, sing love's paeans

As she lay in her vulnerability
She remains open to the universe

As she surrender her nakedness
She radiates to the warmth

As she engulfs in the wild
She roams, serving curiosity

As she break in the swinging tides
She soaks in abundance

As she belches the aura of the past
She sums up brilliance

As she looks up to the waning moon
She strokes her mood in tunes

She is a woman, a beauty to be felt
As she smiles out to the shores

She is the womb, an unfurling fertility
As she carries others burdens

She is the ultimate female energy
As she balances the male synergy

She is to be nurtured and loved
As she bears the fruits of earth

She is stunning with her sparkles
As without her we won’t exist

She is a lover, a mother, a sister
As we hold her womanly nature

Note: Inspired by a painting I did of a naked woman lying in repose but -looking out to the shores. What is she? What might she be thinking? *Dedicated to all the women.... the feminine energy.

On the lonely road, a crow was picking
At the fresh remains of a dead chicken.
It’s the circle of life, as far as I can see.
Everything is food; both you and me.
It’s all circle and cycles, you see.
Running away and then back again.
Life the enemy in our old age
That started out to be our friend.

It’s all ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Even solid steel is a victim of rust.
We can pretend might makes right
But that doesn’t stop the fall of night.
Water is necessary for us,
But without air, there is death.
We can live but a few moments
If we do not have our breath.

Without food, we will get weak.
And stone can break our bones.
Fire can consume us it is sure
But fire needs air, it is well known.
The crow pecks bones without joy
It is what it must to do survive.
The crow does not worry or frown.
It does what it does to stay alive.

The people that use that road
For the old crow’s grisly feast
Do not care for god or books
Or superstition in the least.
Congregations of god surely will
Hire mourners to wail their grief
About the loss of a pious soul.
No more honest than a thief.

When she saunters
in a two piece bikini,
without making
any  pug marks
even on soft sand,
"Which one color
adds more firepower
to her allure
enhanced figure?"
is a question
never heard aloud,
all the same,there
hovers in the thick air,
quite tangibly.
Even with all the intimate
knowledge on her at hand,
it is still too difficult
to suggest, as she moves
with the deadly confidence
of a sleek armored car,
every one that appears on
the line of fire along
the  180 degree curve
sure would go down,
that's a daily occurrence.

But if on a  bikini in white
she would be seen on the beach
absolutely mysterious she looks
the decision on this is unanimous!
how does one  know this?
     -a stunned silence every time
       happens is the clinching proof.

An egregious, chained beast
lurks within the demure beauty,
something dark he reared within
perhaps a savage, recalcitrant,
quite ill at ease in the presence of her pet
wakes it up, viciously poses challenge,
beauty sedated, mute, closes eyes,at such times,
falls in to a fitful hibernation,
    allowing  both the brutes, to slug it out
till one of the two is overpowered
and roar of the other, the victorious is heard.

Atop the emerald earth,
a bush of crimson ablaze.
Blush of sunrise.
Bruised rouge of sunset.

Kaleidescope colors of
complex designs complete.
Ahh..but for the lingering questions.
Questions that continue with the
fresh of each day...

Rita...We call to Rita!
Our ethereal selves.
She calls, We come
Into her night of dreams
Woven within her dreams of day.
We come in Our
Saintly stance.

Rita hears.
Knows Our hearts.
And so to her,
We present ourselves.

Rita feels
the plush nuance
of Our ancient wisdom.
A melding of truths

Rita knows
She is a conduit
through which the
breath of message
and knowledge exchange.

'Sine timore'
Without timidity or fear.
Imbued deep within
her Irish blood.
Gift passed from the elders.

Yet, this Lass of yore,
stands away from the podium.
Has chosen not to grandstand,
or grasp boldness too tightly.

Goodness of power is embraced
laced with enchantment.
Able to transcend The Veil,
She walks Her path.
Our winsome
Saint of Impossible Causes.

Rain showers, mazes uncovered
Dancing like a little child with a toy
Reclaimed as the drizzles recovers
Pouncing  jumps like a kangaroo

The winter burns as the fire blaze
Warmed by the ambience of the logs
Reflections denuded, secrets unearthed
Times lost bouncing like a ball

Bare and **** in the cool mist and fog
A shadowy phantom arises me
An Orion exhibit, my alpha constellation
Carving me out of the hidden cave