On this day
There was a wedding
In the church
Just down the way
It was a touching
Thing of beauty
A TRUE love
Was bound that day.

Their story is like a
Fairytale...
The man came here
To make a start
Learning of our
Lovely planet
To nurture it
And be a part.
He met the
Sweetest woman
Even then she
Took his heart.

Her interest is
Early music
A muse which
This man also loved
She loved Scotland
All things Scottish
The man was
All of the above!
They became friends
And found their
Hearts met...
They fit together
Hand in glove!

Then came time
For him to leave here
Couldn't stay
Within the States.
T'was time he
Returned to Scotland
But their love
Did not abate.

The lady had a
Real talent - was given
Scholarship and then
Went across the
Great Atlantic
To England's lovely
Shores and fens.
There, in London
At a concert
They saw each other!
Met again!

There, their love grew
Like a garden
He, a Thistle
She a rose...
Finally he could
Wait no longer
He bought a ring
And he proposed.

The two lovers
Met in Tucson
To Tucson
They returned, you see,
And in holy matrimony
Their love was bound
But, at last, freed!

Their blossoms joined
In bliss forever...

For their love was

*MEANT TO BE!

Immerse yourself within the universe
include peaceful thoughts
Glance at the evening sky
advance what's on your mind?
Grey skies filled with a calm
             atmosphere
Starry night sends a signal
of love swirling in the air
Far, far millions miles away
stars come out tonight to stay
Soon it will be a full moon
Grey skies with a few clouds around
Rain falling all afternoon
Grey skies, grey skies
Pour out yesterday
for today will be better
Grey skies,

I am -
never the same.
So, is my love for you -
grows
into something new.

A girl is a slave
Who can put good clothes
Who can eat better food
Who can wear gold ornaments
Who can walk in high heels
Who can talk to all
Who can smile
Who can sleep
But who cannot go out
Who wont get wages
Who should not know freedom
Who should not know relaxation
Who should not dream of relations
Who should not think of what she was
Who must forget who she is...
And yes, I am also a girl.

Mpk

No god ever spoke to me.
Not because I never tried!
There were times I cried
And begged to hear a word.
Nothing seemed to be heard.
There was no imperious voice
With avoiding not being a choice.
There was no burning bush;
Nor gentle or heavy push
One direction or the other.

It remained for me to get together
With some paid hack with a book
Who preferred not to look at me
Because he wanted to deal with
Easier sins than I could offer
Then, I was to add to his coffer
For rebuilding his den of thieves
But that couldn't relieve my worry
Or my problems. Maybe the Muslims
Could chant from their book of mysteries.

But no, I had already read their history
And large hunks of their sacred poems.
I recognize double-talk when I see them.
I got plenty of that in my upbringing.
I can still hear the songs they were singing
About eyes on sparrows and loving
But the poor are still naked and dying.
The poor are all nationalities and colors
And they lay in the gutters together
As the godly brothers pass; spit at them
And demand they get up and move away
And take their misery to another doorway.

I, the unhearing, could find no endearing
Reason to put on costumes and dance
To some four thousand year old romance
About gypsies and witches promising
To keep on doing what I was doing
And I would see the kingdom of heaven
Or maybe even six or seven, to suit belief.
Meanwhile here I am on this reef, at sea
With no deity to talk to me and explain
Why none of the miracles remain today
But have been washed away by time.
Or did they ever really exist at all?
Me? I’m still awaiting that divine call;
For my schefflera to catch on fire, or
To receive from god a Western Union wire.

Sometimes I wonder

if I even survived
my childhood.

Maybe some part of me
is sleeping
up on the hill.

One of those
Nightmares
That I couldn't escape
Carried me off
In its jaws

and so maybe
I am planted.
Looking down
At all the people
I can't remember.

I hope that I am ashes.
I never wanted a stone.

They are wild things
Sometimes, I swear
I need a shotgun
but so as not –
to hurt the words

I hack them out of weeds
Break the ice to drag them out
Throw rocks at them in trees

Turn around three times fast
and collapse
Sometimes I catch one
still spinning dizzy
floating circle-words in breeze

I command nothing

The poems always have their way

I command nothing!

Not love –  Not time –  Nor hate
Nor sun –  
but the moon-rise –  
maybe

...in dream-light