The blue of the dusk
clusters around
these
earthling bones.
Lustily
blows cold onto cold
and knows
well how to hold
me bound.

Give me then wings,
girth me
with air-borne,
light feathered things.
De-earthed,
let me fly
star-ward.
Then on land afar
ground me.

When at his door
give me
this powerful magic
just once
Living apart breaks
me still.
Wing me, or tears will
drown me.

Soundless Rest.

After hearing Ravel's "Pavan to a Dead Princess."

How pale, whiter than white are your lips, shaping
Now not a word, immovable, soundlessly making
Their roundness even more ground into my heart.
Your lovely long tresses coiled, unsoiled and parted
With fine ever-straight line above primrose-soft face
Unwrinkled, once pink now ever remaining a babe's.
Those feel-of-rosebud hands laid so sweetly beneath
The shroud, why did you leave dear child, impeach
All my hopes and dreams, the most gentle of access
To paradise lay in your smile, now sleeping princess
The pavan will be dancing you soon into a soundless
Rest but I restive remain, and will always be bounded
To pain in not saying final goodbyes but crying adieu
I have to await the yet uncreated, my life without you

Imperceptibly losing light the night takes hold,
and quietly ushers day
into a stupor of weary waiting.
Without ado
birds flock, winging feathered way homeward
and as dusk dulls blue
a vague aquiescence creeps around end of day.        
Finding tick of clock's
easy persistence relaxes as liquid apricot
of sinking sun dives slowly into its pink duvet,
bidding a streaky  adieu.
Night will soon takes over reins, dictate terms
to deepening sub-hues,
and day-done clouds will billow softly away  
to spend dark hours
planning next morning's display.
Spiraling dream-time means an evening this fine      
should be shared.
Ceilings of night-fall remind me you went away
yet I recall sunsets when you cared.

Shaking a fist at what wishes her harm
calmly facing
her fears of troubled alarm,
she fishes,
heart deep, when a drama,
which threatens to flood her with tears,
appears,
and she nets a spirited soul.

To arise ***** when she is thrown down,
determined
at starting all over again,
she brushes away any secret pain
of humiliation,
not laying the blame at any one door.

The spirit she shows frees a quite selfless
soul-action, reflecting
a generous heart
that life will not easily ****** from her
gritty Joan-of-Arc,
resolute ardour for tackling trouble
at root
with lighthearted humour.

How astutely
she learns to laugh with, and not at,
herself,
the way to beauty, she knows,
will never be helped
by ignoring need for spirited health.

Walking her tight-rope
Night falls just when dawn
Puts on her eyeshades to learn how to cope.

Changes in morning occur
As light-shards invade,
Undress dark, and ignite dawn's zest further.

Glints of daylight begin
When grass shakes awake,
And breezes stir as trees start to limber.

Listen, catch whispers
Of dawn's waking yawns
As she waits at Sun's door, young and unkissed.

Love has undrowsed me.
Unglued sleepy eyes.
Attachment disarmed me, now I realize
Love has unveiled me.
Uncaged my lost soul.
Resistance alarmed me, now I feel whole,
Love has unleashed me.
Untied tired heart.
Loving disarmed me, now living can start.
Love has undressed me,
Now naked I lie.
I no longer fake it and know reasons why.
Love has unchained me.

The breast of the sea swells tonight
as her efforts to rise, heightened
by great heaving breaths, break her skin
like inflated balloons, topped thinly
with spume, sea bursts in labour.
She roars, tries suppressed pitch to gain
the shore, finds her efforts are checked
then sweeps out once more, tumbling
somersaults over herself, grumbling
with submarine thunderly sounds.
Begets disorder by flinging herself round,
sea bloats, yet moving no slower,
bellows ignored, her foaming tears flow
down watery frills and rollers make
naught of revealing  her saline-stained face.
Sea-swell intends to bare all this night-time
in majestic embraces with Spring tide.