Here I am
inside your stillness and before more dawn breaks
I will fly behind moments.

Yes here am I between each new test in your day.


Here I walk
right after sunset and as the first bright star appears
I will share in your quiet.

Yes here I stand, a whisper away, listen and hear.


Here I lie
between your first dreams and as part of awareness
I will follow in silence.

Yes I shall remain waiting to comfort any un-rest.


Here I sit
beneath our secret, 'tho feeding your spiritual need
I will stay beyond sound.

Felt but unheard I will send you my care, yes indeed.

I have left behind all aquiescence, disrobed past
motives of pleasing the crowd.

I no longer dress in former passivity and never
defend any conformity.

Compliance, from now on, is simply not me.

For sanity's sake I sent flat brogues to charity
centres and became re-invented.

Circumventing subservience and any pretence
I wear independence boldly.

To any lesser degree of non-submissiveness my
control I shall never release.

Men refer to me now as "Miss Self-Assurance"
in tight nets and high heels.

So better not mess with my new-found feeling
on pure contumaciousness.

I might resent it, wear your ties for my garters
and not be too nice.

Beware this flighty new woman is known to bite.

Take your own words from the poems of nature.
Add golden dreams from a rainbow or two.
Polish with good thoughts culled from right motive
And create something beautiful ~ ~ ~ do.

Phrase pleasant songs for the message to loners.
Add poetic ballads to comfort fear's due.
Burnish the spirit of youth with fine versing.
And create something beautiful ~ ~ ~ do.

Keep penning acclaim of peace for the needy.
Add some generous lines of compassion too.
Write with sound rhymes of positive thinking
And create something beautiful ~ ~ ~ do.

THINK SATIN, not silk and make it sheer black.

RUN IT slowly through sensitive finger-tip skin.
Black satin shimmers.
FEEL IT creamily smooth like alchemized liquid.
Black satin scintillates.
HOLD IT cool against lips and breathe slowly in.
Black satin stimulates.
TRY IT sensuously folded for more sinuous cling.
Black satin slithers.
WEAR IT bravely, accentuate bedtime's nakedity.
Black satin satiates.

THINK SATIN, not silk and make it sheer black.

Nine is still hugging-new-kitten time
filled with loud giggles, school-loving fun days,
a pig-tailing best time for friend-making.

Nine likes browsing through pages
of favourite tales curled up warm as toast, shawl
clad or napping on Dad's welcome lap.

An eye-on-best-chance-time is nine
for young girlish schemers, secretive play-time,
torchlight snacks with sleep-over pals.

Grown from doll-cuddling but baby
crazy lipstick-red nine acts the high-heeled lady
then raids Mum's bed for cosy snuggles

Life swiftly draining under-ten days
brings teenager-cool ways but not for a while,
beauty at nine has an innocent charm.

When that nine-candled cake makes
its sugary entrance I wish, as she bends closer
to blow months more maiden delight.

But just a reminder dear daughter
being nine still means early nights, clean teeth,
earned treats and a tidier room please.

(Written for a friend a few years ago)

Sequined diamanté
fading to light,
lark's night
passes away.

Herald of dawning
flying from dark,
the lark
seizes the way.

Forgets tomorrows,
ignores aforethings,
lark sings
of only today.

Tinted With You.

The gentlest shade for bad heartache
has to be forest green
Mauve I would choose for sad mood
of that doubt in between.

Cerise for the missing when you stay
longer each time away
And with no contact the palette turns
from bright to earthy grey.

Canary-yellow gets mixed for the fun
times I thought would not end.            
Pink for my shyness and blush-red when        
recalling love's readiness.
.
Sienna when letter-less and silence
brings hints of cobalt blue.
Deepest of all is every night's indigo  
unless tinted with you.

Whatever the heavy cumbersome ties
I feel under,
wherever I found all this pain,
however deep, hurt cannot be blamed
On any but me,
and to free myself I must regain
a warm heart,
must part with stored stings,
learn to sing a new me, bring a breath
of fresh air to this cloistered
stale place I call my heart then I can
start loving again.

Numbed by trickles of sheer icy fear
She knelt as more thick flow of red
Treacled its circle, stained the green
And oozed its way round a still head.

Silenced by shock, glazed eyes lifted.
A once sporty car piecing the ground.
Spewing confusion, unearthly yet still
Her gaze fixed on wheels idling around.

Destruction's trauma brought spin-back,
Re-flashing she vividly viewed, as before,
Tree halting speed and air-piercing crash
Leaving his young heart beating no more.

Poorly resourced, ill-used time kills warmth when
rude under-dressed exchanges begin
passing as norm.

Non-value remarks always fail to impress, yet stick
long in the mind as unkindness
shuts windows tight.

Sash down and closed against harshness, unfeeling,
words thrown about hurtfully rattle
and thoughtlessly burn.

Sticking to tongue long after they fly, anger-phrases
come back as harness chains to shackle
the hard days ahead.

Corners need cleaning when insults begin, far above
and beyond reason, to scrape barrel's
bottom as mud is flung.

If tried, sharing affection inside a relationship rises
beyond and above paucity's **** form of
shallow, so-called care.

Covered with love the saying is true that newly white
mornings feel right when all in the world that
is wanted begins with a You.

When earth bars
sun's far greater shine
lunar bows low
in menstrual reaction.

Blood-red colour
spreads wide for a time,
eclipsed, a moon
emits no satisfaction.

Wait pale lady,
stay high, for a while,
solar connection
maybe benighted yet

Face down attack
powerful moonshine
will surely surpass
Sol's prior silhouette.

Almost There.

Grey bubble of night surrounds the hours,
and binds them tightly with
no chance of light.

Makes air heavy with silence, empowers
each breath
with velvet plush sighs
in low shushed whispering sounds
of almost-there sleep.

Yet eyes will not close and weary mind
still alive
with words which swirl
like meteors trying to rise from pen
makes constant tries.

Hazy thoughts birth wordy love verses,
creep toward
sweet phrases and become
channeled by night-muse as poetic phase
overtakes me again.

Time dances slowly to dawn's first light
writing itself
into pieces, yet drowsy sleep is ever
quite near
to distract from sensible scribing.

Pen halts in mid-air as I almost succumb
clock tick-tocks, head nods and
I start counting sheep.

Whatever the heavy cumbersome ties
I feel under,
wherever I found all this pain,
however deep, hurt cannot be blamed
On any but me,
and to free myself I must regain
a warm heart,
must part with stored stings,
learn to sing a new me, bring a breath
of fresh air to this cloistered
stale place I call my heart then I can
start loving again.

She once stitched secreted half-felt dreams
From a fragmented jersey and embroidered
It neatly in sequinned love for safe-keeping
Forgetful of what occurs to un-meant ploys.

Patterns of welcome morphed into shadow
Grew mold around its binding two names.
The sewn seed-beads of foreverness badly
Encrusted until torn outworn vows became
Dim and a trusted vest shrunk, hemmed in
Sparkles rusted, it became shapeless, partly
With mishandled use and remained strewn
Over gullible parts of her passed-over heart.

Worn inside or out despite repair-refit trials
Her much abused love-vest ended unsightly.

Molder of thought,
Reliever of rank need,
Drip into my silent moments your sweet waters.

Give me heed,
Your support restores,
Buoys with constructive boldness efforts to feed.

Muse, use me.
Poems will then come forth.
Unworded creations will give birth as they ought.

Those who take life and shake it a bit,
to make trauma less,
And fit all error into pockets of love,
will also enmesh
Forgiveness in and around each hurt,
to become a breed
With rarer hearts, and sounder minds,
who, with no vested needs
Are free to serve the spirit of giving
as from their core emits
Understanding and quiet acceptance
of facts befitting
An air of compassion, then, easier
their souls will soar
Toward untroubled lives, more ready
To show rarer love than before.

To live with a loss so great after times
of month-long waiting
invites such a natural rage in that a child,
a babe of no age
who was wanted and loved so much
could die,
and leave me in loneliest pain seems
unbearably hard.

And if heaven was not making it plain
that my dear baby
now faces a state of tenderest peace,
and that clutching him
tightly in my place is an Eternal Love,
touchingly
singing his lullaby needs, I could not
be carrying on.

God knows I must take this view of loss,
see such ways as right,
because if I did not I would go insane,
but now I feel
I can cope with waiting to see him again,
by trying to stay sure
he has not ceased to be, so please God,
carry on helping me.

Key-stone of conformity stays with the banal and
trite persuasion,
thinks only in formal straight lines.
Break with staid
and taut peels back from mind, lets in unrestraint
and stretches credulity.
Breach convention and back-to-front insight will
violate orthodox,
peer squint-eyed with curiosity and
welcome poetic muse that infuses and revitalizes
customary thought.
Sail out of the usual in oddity's sea , Sphyx-like
greet life less ordinary.
Leave safe-shore solidity, take a sound
lateral look
with mind-set's original back-sidedness and feel
feet leaving the ground.

If a tree was me and I a tree,
it would be fun to feel
wet droplets race,
after rain, down my trunk,
trickle freely
through dark clefts
between great hairy feet, lace
my roots with good
mineralized water, ******,
up through cells
straight to my thick rough
branchy-green dome
to be greedily drunk, frilly
veined leaves only
exist by this filtered liquid.

Distilled from the ground,
ambrosial nectar,
sun-powered and essential
oozes life for trees
and refined by climb, juices
enliven, energize,
and find ways to help cells
exhale the vital
oxygen needed by humans.

Trees with such use now die
in the millions,
and yearly polluted by greed
or carelessly cleared,
bequeath earth dire travesty,
for when denuded
life-forms end and disappear.

Wilderness need not be avidly dry.
It can contain shades of uplifting memory.

Sweet drops of whisperings fly
around souls who,
desert-bound and tied to circumstance,
retreat into spaces
of such empty aloneness it seems
never again
will ways out of crystallized mazes where
reigns abject silence
ever be found to bring freedom again.

Yet Wilderness need not be overly feared.
It becomes productive under love's challenge.

Prone to arise out of aimless places      
and grazing on sighs
of pain are the tiniest grains of gone loves
growing lonely with wait,
and as shadows of smiles permeate minds  
in Wilderness-Land,
remembering to contact angelic unseen
means certain survival.

Despite blood-red pain of sudden ends
look inward and find dim      
streaks of light birthing changes for
hope lost in Wilderness,
watch black holes shine after saline ebb
then as tides of tears
begin to recede know grief's despair    
will grow no more weeds,      
flowers of assurance unfurl their truth
that love's journey
goes on, deserts will blossom with many
a happy reunion,
for heaven's arrangement never denies
access to askers for proof.

Wilderness dies when souls feel not alone.
Coping with sorrow means climbing its hills.

Wild are the fearsome changes
When starlight takes up home in unsuspecting
Wide-apart dwellers of east-west
Togetherness.

Magnets let loose attract oceans.
Ironized fragments of need, fall, easily warmed
And bind in sought-after
Luminous joy.

Freedom swings from forgotten
Beams of roofed-in and much weathered lives
In hiding and joins hands across
Unfettered miles.

Singing arises from caverns deep
Inside hearts, the wild change starts and being
Alive becomes brightened with
Thoughts of tomorrow.

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.

Pasts were forgotten.
They were strangers no more
To each other,
But unknown now to themselves.

They stood in awe
Of what they knew had begun.
Now outside of time,
They learnt nothing but new.

Their sense became numb.
They realized fate meant
To open love's toll-gate,
So they became one.

Beyond time's bounds
Begins destiny's chance
And there they waited
For their reality.

Valued.

In one of its corners there sits
in my heart,
on stored-away mem'ry, Cupid's
thrown dart.

No-one but myself is allowed
there to find
that its most valued gem is what
you left behind.

Come, mesh your face in quivering sparkle
which tops the dark lake.

Diamonds are free in the ripples tonight.
East-wise from shore cast your eyes
and watch silent surface take
prizes from starlight,

Feast on silky-white glittering glass,
and see fish rise to this bait.

Come, see the sphere shed her nightwear
to cover the water with lace.

If we gaze deeper we might discover
her secret, fully-faced place.

Gentle marsh zephyrs release bare guile
while making her nearness gyrate.
Wind's ready fore-play assures
fish become sated with light.

When the Queen turns her watery eyes
to light up lunar-obeisance lured
fins rise for she  loves adulation.

So come, let not this moment go by,
let us go baiting moonlight
tonight, just you and I.

It's myopic to claim
we are not all the same.
Distinction will always hold sway
if vanity's call
that our Self controls all
means ambition is chased every day.

This illusion of ' I '
distorts how we try
to see we are separate from all.
With a "we", there's a "them"
that's the Ego again
raising reasons for ultimate fall.

The "I" will remain empty inside,
inflated with pride,
forgiving not another or Self.
Inner growth raises need
to foster the real
perception of far greater wealth.

When Ego holds court
we are easily bought
and relinquish choices for good.
Learning how to let go
will inevitably show
in a freedom at last understood.

Like efflorescence, night pens it's mood.
More blue than a cornflower summer sky.
Thoughts of the daytime too are luminous.
Your presence, though far, creates them so.

Soft textured velvet is my mood today.
It sings me memory-tunes of your word.
Silence is potent when poetry speaks.
I hear and catch music deep in my soul.

Heart-Healing.

When neglect love's trust has riven
heartache wins.

Sad hearts on hope's thread swing
and bleed sorely.

Hurtfully damaged love's core needs
a heart restorer.

Harmony soon re-installed means
heart-healing begins.

Be to me a sanctuary, cloister me in love.
Shelter me,
in covert hide shade my face with proof,
enter into every cell
to show my soul your gallantry.
Shelter me,
roof me with your heart.
In seclusion cover and umbrella me,
with skin-tight fit,
so never more will we two part.
Shelter me,
be to me a rightful Knight, win me
with valiant darts,
corded round with action's art
of heart-meant words
Shelter me,
in gold-filled verse, scribed at will,
from core's soft sword,
cut holes in doubt, cleanse in kindness
weakened trust
and unleash my softly yielding heart.
Shelter me,
then I shall wholly know
love's conquest has to me imparted
its eternal glow.

Yes, let's colour our hair.
Choose clothing with care
Find health from right food.

We deserve to look good.

Let's slim down real age
Stay long at young stage
Wear the latest with ease.

We deserve best pleasing.

But let's forget outside
Face faults we hide inside.
Let's settle for knowing

We deserve more on show.

Let's forget and forgive
Try to live and let live.
Pride can scar unseen parts.

We deserve stress-free hearts.

So let's work inside-out.
Learn what aging's about
Though appearance may aid

We deserve to FEEL great.

Heady Times.

Mem'ry strides the salty walkway.

Walls hide seaside's gone delights.

Youthful fun was once the mainstay

Lovers knew not wrongs from rights.

Twosome pleasure had its heyday

Heady times those harbour nights.

Cottage For Sale.

The grapes on the vine
which even now climb
up the old archway are indigo blue.

One long-past springtime
a home-made sweet wine
was begun from huge bunches of fruit.

Our smiling house then
was bliss-laced, mended
those old gates that love entered thru.

All still feels the same.
and memory reclaims
only good times spent here with you.

This cottage for sale
will forever contain
remains of the love shared by us two.

Regeneration.

Grab my heart
while it still beats in fretful synchronicity.

It is yet yours,
but before it ceases to part with wholeness,

just as it needs
to become effervescent again,

with someone new by withholding itself
from marital vows, reach out

receive and take it, release permanently,
love's regeneration.

There will be no bar to acceptance, time
regrets loss of accessibility

so take this final offer of trying
for compatibility
because I still carry your heart in mine.