We all like drastic changes, from time to time

Something makes us portend to the calamitous or the sublime

A guess away may be that coveted flame; an estimate later, somebody

you’d forgotten again

Solitude calls us to render a demand

A stone’s throw to the cosmos might be illicit or truly grand

In a sentence, there’s so much love out there it’s worth the wait

Yet in a manner of speaking, our heart tells us when it’s too late.

So, risk again,

I shall leave it there.

© Copyright David Bosworth March 2014

I would like to hold an Asda Memo pad in Fleet Street
I would like it if, in the process of being a low-priced tomato
I were stepped on
and really assured that the real-estate in which my squishing had occurred in - would grossly swell in value
Seen as my squashing had occurred.

© Copyright David Bosworth March 2014

That idle word 'impossibility'
That lurking creature like a ghastly curtain of Dark dripping
with vibrant green slime
When success is bright and vivid and light
Why give in,
When to win is so right?

© Copyright David Bosworth March 2014

I hope too much
It is such
that we live optimistically but for the sake of a headache
I seem intrinsically flawed
And maybe I'm too bored
for modern ways
and modern greats
I'd sing all night if I had the pace
But way down low - you know where feelings never grow
You'd find me, reading a book.

© Copyright David Bosworth March 2014

Can you ask someone to love you as
they lead you down gentle paths
Guided by sensations you know exist;
Sometime long ago, neglected to ask?

Who couldn't have fraternized with the girl
Of dark look and sultry eyes ?
But for a life I mis-created ...
Struggling in circles to weave new ties

Sweet encroaching lust awakes you
and erases dust
You seem to think lazy -
The terror is gone, so many miles away love
might have
stolen the air of wintry haze

Hell, God knows I was feeling insecure
And for what to come, nothing more?
Sometimes, wavering self-respect
And past tribulations
you'd rather forget

© Copyright David Bosworth January 2014

i wrote some songs
told them one by one
gave them silly names
what's the
point
some are as long as the delay
in the day
of an un-expectant mother.

© Copyright David Bosworth January 2014

Life's cruel chess game
Finds foes for you in sand grains
And I'm sitting here a shivering wreck and all I
can think about is the nape of her neck

My hand involuntarily flinches
And I wonder if she's, too, thinking
''his hand ..I want to feel his hand''

but all assembled various gods
may have bizarre, differing plans.

© Copyright David Bosworth January 2014