the moon

a pearl

on
deep
velvet
blue

constellations

frozen
yet
moving

under
you
i
am
crushed

your
fires
flare

i
see
them
not

even cells

in a petri dish


excrete waste

her
harsh
wounded
outbursts

masquerading as laughter

i have seen the death crone
she is in the background

clutching a chair she wants to pull it up next to me

get me comfortable
with whats to come
shes good at that

will i go into her arms gracefully?

she is quite beautiful

i am a witch
have foreseen my death

a waking dream growing closer

no time

all that your love brought

crystallizing
here on these shores

walking
wind swept
head bowed

fragrances transport you

to lands
you've never been

to mingle
with people

you've niether met
nor seen

why do you love me better after
you've made me cry

i become supplicant
and your love swells

you become
sweet again

tender loving concern pours forth

i lie spent
on the floor
exhausted

is it exacted punishment?
                                         on all women?

on she who sent you to that place of inhumanity?

that destroyer of boys, men and
ultimately women

will it ever change

if you take ***
out of the equation

areourexchangese m p t yormeaninglesschatter?

or a commingling of ideas

energy sparks

we are
of the earth

but we are also of the heavens

we are all
just part
of
the cycle
of
decay
heavans heave in silence

you

turned
yourback


and dig yourself
another
grave

i
will
walk away

this
time
not unheard

but
ignored

like
the streams
that
used
to call

your name

scented air sun warmed soft breeze

butterflies drift my eyes do please

creamy roses nod their heads

i want to sleep in their petal strewn beds

coils of memory

rolled
up

un
furl

in the dark

what could i do but run

that one poem

we've
      run
        through
                            all

our possibilities


         circle
come       full
        back


as much the same

                                                                        as differant


        s
          p  
        i
          r    
      a
          l
            s
   wiinth
    s
        p
     i
r
a
   l
      s

why do i spend so much time

angsting over (willthisrhyme?)

am i fat?
or are am i thin?
do i have the right
wherein....  
                     where·in (hwâr-n, wâr-)
                     adv.
                     In what way; how: Wherein have we sinned?
                     conj.
                     1. In which location; where: the country wherein those people live.
                     2. During which.
                     3. In what way; how:



all such empty
prattling
DIN!!!!!



lovers
friends
family
we all
end in
the re cycle
bin

one
star

sliver of moon

black
tree tops
against
cerulean skies

umber
glow

swirl of
mist

glitter of
frost

my
toes

moon
beams
drip
splashing
silver
splotches

in gold leaf litter
electric blue wrens

black birds sing
day
ends

I wanted to post you some autumn leaves

blood red
jewel like
littering my garden

enclosed in an envelope they withered
darkened to dull

the love that nearly sent them glows

infinities eyesight

given to

the

hunch
back

the infirm

and

the
really
quite

                                  ­                                 insane

everything looks washed

battered

hung out to dry

rain

falls

from a sour sky

closed minds
shut

like
slammed doors

and you
may as well
both be

on foreign shores

like children

wepush

each
others

boundaries

both
bruising


we remain

mist rising in the valley

grey  g a u z e

pierced by dark green

trying to

hold onto

what

was never grasped

waves sigh
    across the sand

summer heat

sparse lawns

unhappy looking

flowers end

ragged clouds race

fleeing the storm they bring

lightening shimmers

distant thunder cracks

dollar sized drops smack

cement wet smells

dawn

no longer rescues

me and the full moon

mock

she spends her life painting

out her existance

on
fake
faces

the morning
moon

a
thin
pale
ghost

a cold wind blows
and golden elm
is shedding her summer dress
gold medallions lie in pots
the ground beneath her
soon a mess

red pulses
heartbeat
where have i been
you
in my veins surge
on re discovering
no hope
we lie
dying

Lead paned windows
beam shafts of coloured light
dust motes floating
spiral upwards
released from
captive carpets
flee

why is it
men cannot   see
that what   appears
to be    vanity      (in a woman)
is often
fear
because female looks
are so important
to the male
my dear
;o)

visions...
are they that?
or is it your brain
teaching you what it's learned
while you weren't looking

i didn't turn out
as you expected
characteristics
you detected
let down your dreams
of how "we'd" be
as is the same
for me
what will we do

peony rose
a tight pink fist
will open soon
to whatever
comes

in that room
you felt like
the whole world

the world removed
a childs world
idyllically drifting with the wind
sloughing off dreary earthbound millstones
free and rising with intense delight

i look at myself
and see
someone else
which one
is me

i don't want some media host
telling me what's what
and  “ do we approve of this opinion ”
and  “ do we approve of that ”
as if they have the right to question
everyone's opinions
to call it in as if it's wrong?
hold several vivisections
let's share our thoughts on media
on twitter tweet and 2 facedbook
then hopefully with this campaign
we'll all have the same look

Irony
love comes
this late
do i care

beautiful red in the sky this morning
reminds me of that shepherds warning
there was no red in the sky last night
so maybe the weather warnings right
there might be rain during today
oh wind please come drive it away
although the garden needs its boon
I'd rather clear skies so sun shine soon

ceilings are what we are
nothing more we kid ourselves
you know that despite what you write
which is to yourself anyway
altho you don't listen

oh to feel
the sun on my skin
so tired of this grey
I'm trapped within
no sunshine shadows
no blue in the sky
rain lashes the windows
I want to cry

she's putting the last of her juice
on the page

he's treating the world
as if it's his stage

both telling the other to
                                               go

act your age

their lives not a play
but a buried one page

unreality
such a part
of
reality
how can it be
unreal

computers gone bananas
it's driving me insane
the pages scrolling up and down
then down and up again

replying to the poems
is taking me an age
I click onto the comment box
go to another page....:o(

so if I'm seeming tardy
please do not take offence
it isn't that I'm snubbing you
comps down is my defence