Sinister curtains
drape an unsuspecting window
of moldy caulk
and hairline cracks
letting cold in, cold out,
splitting plastered walls
around a faded outline
of an empty frame,
slanted on stretched wires,
where your picture
once rested

Cloth of blackened residue
dangling from rusted rods,
un-soft fabric in dust crammed air
sifting unnoticed,
settling around knick knacks
leaving shapes and fingered designs
on silent end tables
staring up at
this dark veil
that hangs
with you

The couplet's first in writing villanelles;
if you desire your work to be its best,
a singleness in purpose always tells.

Of course, the open has the hook that sells,
your reader is seduced to read the rest.
The couplet's first in writing villanelles.

Your second line resides in writer's hell,
the rhyme-rich ending word must meet the test
and singleness in purpose always tells.

Pentameter iambic works just swell,
but matters not, as many will attest.
The couplet's first in writing villanelles.

Last stanza rolls around, the poet's well
is nearly dry, their muse under duress;
a singleness in purpose always tells.

The final lines! Relax, and sit a spell,
enjoy the glow of formal poem's success.
The couplet's first in writing villanelles.
a singleness in purpose always tells.

And when your world is feeling so low,



Think of a few things written below.



For each life lived, there is a yin and a yang,



And for each moon that’s cried, a sun has sang.



As storm clouds roll, natures fireworks show,



In muddy water, a lotus flower will grow,



After the hardest climb, you will see the best views,



And try to climb sometimes, in another ones shoes.



When darkness descends, the stars start to twinkle,



And for each new wisdom, maybe one more wrinkle.



Behind each grey cloud, the sun still shines



After a volcanic diatreme, come the diamond mines



In the depths of the ocean, a coral garden blooms,



Venus’s jealousy stained the lilys perfumes.



Inside a rust mound precious gold appears



And a deep freeze will bring snowflake tears.



It’s a yoyo life, with darkness and light,



Through each short day and each long night,

The clouds are pregnant
With rain water

Earth waited with
Anticipation

Alas! It's abortion
Blood all over the sky

Sun's blazing
Hot

In a field of
grasshopper heat
        of
the pride
the prone
        of
the all that
is forever gone
        of
crow hops - hops - hops
down a bug
        of
a bridge I built
across a creek
        of
frogs that
take a peek
        of
overhead
an eagle soars
        of
a mouse
fast in the grass
        of
cattails
around the pound
        of
a snake , branched
hanging on
        of
upon seeing me
falls and is gone
        of
a sea of goldenrod
and green
        of
sadly seeing
yesterday's dream

Turn on

I
This is the BBC news at 1 o'clock.
A rambling diatribe,
lost boys, a lost war.
The falling cost of stamps.
'What do you think of the deficit,
Graham from Newquay?'

II
Some bald man
holds a cadaverous gaze.
'She don't want me no more Pauline.'
The ware and tear
of Albert Square
immortalised
in one ***** stare.

III
Ella looked into the eyes of
the African children with bloated
stomachs, scooping up brown water
she wouldn't even dip her toe in.
For a moment, they were face to face.

VI
Margret! Margret!

Look what they're...

Check the cupboard,
have we still got...

uh...

tinned peaches and caster sugar.

V
Our hands, in every listless waft,
wander through an electric soup,
thick as frog-spawn.
Spermatozoa of information.
A gentle fuzz of creation,
our atmosphere is
pregnant with
separate universes that
embed themselves
inside our own.
We broadcast
our noisy planet
to the skies.

VI
'I've seen what's going on,
you don't have to tell me!
I know what they're doing.'
The walls are closing in,
as each breath from her
dusting lungs is getting tighter.
'Besides, my eyes won't let me, or
my knees these days, It's all i'm
good for'  
She wheezes.
'I can see all I need from here.'

VII
Click
I swear 400
*******
channels
And there's nothing on

VIII
As I approach the blue glare
of the living room, I know
she's in there. Not even
watching,
she's on her
iPad. We don't talk.
We went to the
Maldives
once,
after the wedding.
she couldn't keep her eyes off me.

IX
Dead square.
Silent pixels.
Nothings watching.

X
We crept down in the morning - my sister
and me, before anyone else was up and squabbled
what loud cartoon violence would take our attention.
Nightie, pyjama cotton siblings, sewn in to the 7 to 9 o'clock schedule,
we were as vital to each other as sleeping bags and cereal.
Our building blocks stood in a castle,
we were unaware that one day,
they would be strewn across the floor
as we grew up.

XI
We're not going out tonight.
I just want to slip my hands down your
pants and touch you while
we watch game of thrones...
Deal?

XII
Smoke rises behind the mosque
in an arabesque twirl.
The blinding sunlight behind the minaret
crashes on the lens, like a flash bang.

The call to prayer is empty bodies, iconographic art,
cars hollowed, alien tongues, history, a melting *** culture,
cockroach romances, squalid graves, body hewn tunnels, little cuts on
trigger fingers, trained monkeys, orphans, marble carvings,
the stench of petrol, jobless drug habits, brickwork, wiring,
forbidden love, lust, teenagers, plastic explosive, god, work,
prayer, tears, life and death    

and briefly the box is the world in our homes.
We must see who's behind it.

I just want to write

Until there are...

    No words left unwritten,
      No feelings left unhidden,
        No voices left unspoken,
          No hatreds left unforgiven.

Because this is my avenue to express...

          hope and despair,
        happiness and sadness,
       loyalty and betrayal,
      fantasy and mystery,

    And everything in between.
  All in one **poetry

There's a house
On the hill
A run down cottage
And the door
Is never locked
I'll be right here
Through wind and rain
Smiling at you
When you return
Helping you
Pick up the pieces
There's a box
Full of lost items here
I keep them for you
If you want them back
One day
Life goes on, Love
And that's fine
You have yours
And I have mine
But nothing
Will take away
My love for you
It is nothing physical
For love cannot be
Expressed physically
It flows from my heart
To each one of you
How you deal with it
Is entirely up to you
But I'll be here
If you want to.