I want to be wrapped in soft shades
      of shimmering blue
celestial greens
deep, dark violet hues
I want to be
       held firm and steadied
yet rocked by chisled grace
I want my inner light
     to flow right over,
beaming all over the place
I want to be strummed
until
the tunes reach ethereal notes
      crescendo or staccato
whatever makes time float
I want magic in my palms
       as I cup your gentle face
I want to get electric
inside your firm embrace
      I  want to feel *******
when your eyes are on my soul
I want to feel that tension
build up and juice my flow
Yes.
      I am ready for connection
ready for oceans to break down walls
No longer afraid of waiting
Bring it on!
     I want it all

I drew a circle
On the map
On the steps
Of my flat
A place of
Serenity
Virtue and
Peace. I knew
Before this
Place of seats.
A seat to sit on,
Became recommenced,
Perched on a tree
In a lovely breeze,
High sprung I rung
Past the old self of
M
E.
Taking notes
Learning
Lessons.
Keeping memories
Of morning blessings,
Putting away in a casket
The fears and questions,
Now again I feel caressing.

They lie warm together
In the afterglow of torrid love
Her head on his chest, he says
"Sing me to sleep, my love"
So she hums and croons
A tune he does not recognize
With soothing sounding words
In a language he does not recognize
"I love you," he murmurs as his eyes close
"I know," she says smiling
And so, as he sleeps
She lies open-eyed
Imagining a future he will not recognize

                                        By Phil Roberts

Opening the book of morning to the first blue page , chapter
one tells of Warblers and Finches , misty hillsides and scenic vistas ..
Thumbing through blessings , every paragraph a loving , written testament to the wonders of today ...

Against the thick black curtain on horizon
of  still, gigantic cumulus cloud formation
three flitting army helicopters deftly display
a shadow play on jolly life of dragonflies,
I am compelled to think, as I drive past this
along the road skirting  Bangalore garrison

Foot
        long
                 toenails
one hundred year old whales


Can't
    find the vein
       a junkies old refrain

Lost
in the music
   of the street

The hiss
    of rubber on the road
       a sustained
           lullaby

The reeds the reeds
  blow those reeds

Plant seeds plant seeds
   plant those seeds

   Water them well
           from

An ancient well
  with spiked punch

And German sausages
         so big that to get them up
                 you need a forklift

You heard by now
        there's  no depending on me
           when it comes down to the crunch

but.... ****... end of the joke so

Keep on keeping on
   stretching out those legs

If not to
    just walk
      around the block