Oh Sleep,
you old weaver of unbeatable threads,
- - feeder of narcotic nectar - - - - - - baker
of heavy-grain sedative - - boatman who never
stops splashing oars - - - slumber-jack - - fakir
with magical wand - - you wide-eye lover bent
on seduction - - a fiend who woos then takes,
the so-called sooth-crooner - - - hill-a-bye friend
known as the sandman - - - an eye-salve agent,
maker of drowse-powder - - dope-peddler,
dream-chainer - you the drug-spirit - pale
ghost of ******-relaxation - - - - soft-breathed
jailer of wakeful night-ire - - - - the knave
who keeps dozers awake - - - Sleep the jester
whose counted sheep drives brave people crazy.

One summer evening as light spoke its last
and covered with gold
opening rose-buds, a blackbird's late song
wrung the still air in passion
from nowhere as neatly strung cascades of
notes coated the gloaming
with soul which struck my heart in passing.

Delighted by listening were my ears dulled
by too much busyness
to hear crystal clear scales piercing twilight
with symphony as in my
childhood's countryside quiet where I then
heard magic in birdsong
and first felt need to describe the beautiful.

An inspiring muse to me was he once, he of
sweet trill which pleasured
my nights by writing his liquid lullaby into
rhyme, now again reminds
me to feel strength in his message, resurrect
the freedom of pen and try
to express thru' word his recital of self-hood.

Oh if only I could.

We pair of home-comers

built from painful baggage a water-tight dream,

we painted an idyll of walled delight.

A bright corner where care could cover old scars.

Oh that happy hand-in-glove fit of regenerative
pleasure which we dared to admit

into the picture of autumnal love.

Such easy laughter sparked need to spend more
new-found treasure in glad togetherness.

Fresh as youth the stream we dug from aridity.

Your tenderness stoked heat
in forgotten feelings, blazed pathways to places
I had never been

and seared heaven into every greeting.

So gentle our mountain
of unleashed freedom that time gave us

chances to climb to new heights.

I thrived in sweet air of acceptability.

You re-sculpted sallow existence, blushed my
palid future, accessed the girl inside
and unfastened this

latched-up former conformist.

You let loose love's abandon and I did not refuse.

Beautiful man your breath
warmed every fold of compatible essence, toned
any slack in my short-sighted outlook
and de-misted

smeared myopic signals.

Duo-passion soon oiled and honed rarely used
adaptability so we could reach bliss.

Our joinings were something greater than flesh
and that better otherness I shall

always remember.

No ocean of parting can break devotion's deep
integrity and I know for certain

we shall meet again.

Oh unforgettable man
you stole into destiny, captured my soul

and now you hold it forever.

One long-ago warm afternoon
I rode past high fells then clad in rough bracken
under a sky of unbroken blue

and  cantered through canopies

of russet trees thrown over the roadside while
autumnal moor-land rose in
beautiful majesty shadowing wind and cloud

then halting I heard liquid laughter.

Where would streamlet pebbles
be found white as those at my dismounted feet
and could heathered summits
slumber through leaf-fall more peacefully

or lark-song appear so enchanting ?

I had heard it said that highland
air tasted of wine, flavoured with grass-scent
and drawing a lingering breath
as cool filled lungs I knew that made sense  

as I gulped in ether-sharp drafts.


So divine was the reverential quiet

on my enlightened face that I closed awed

eyes and in vibrations of silence

caught nature's presence as never before.

We, looking to "now"
..........................may see icy goodbyes.
Cold can scribe lonely,
...............................but for only a while.

The " now " has no
..........................special seasonal timing.
Winter sounds saddest
.........................when seen from behind.

Tho' drifts of bleak past
..........................still mist windowpanes,
Sun melts the quicker
.........................on frost written names.

Fine dawns ahead will
.............................break warmer before
Future birdsong begins
...........................and wings spring-soar.

Unsettled my sleep,
yet were I with thee
my night would be
bedded in luxury.

Uneasy my soul,
yet were I to hold
thee as mine own
would relief unfold.

Unrested my mind,
yet were I so thine
fate would prove kind
and we heaven find.

Oh Muse, bearer of wisdom, may your words
which traverse the globe
by verse affect attitudes, move objections,        
lash egos, rock divisions,  
reunite misunderstandings and by power of
digestion resurrect what
the populace thinks weak, kills and forgets.

May poetic energy slice through innumerable
rules, instil sympathy,    
drown separation, re-find buried faith within
faded friendships, appeal
for awareness to  remember hatred no more,
help those forget who,
prejudice-laden perceive many as enemies.

May powerful words smash inbuilt devisive
desire for retaliation,
create instead meant relationships, lasting
handshakes which re-shape
distance placed between hearts by age-old
spite as groundless pride
grows no happiness alongside bitter regret.
    
Oh Calliopé, never forgo scribes' minds for
evoking soul-felt change,        
poems pleading for world-wide review of
love's fallen portals  
re-invite  causes for unearthing a paradise      
in this war-riddled earth.
Peace needs minnions' pens, at the ready.