Hello shiny loop of post-shower Rainbow,
you of mosaic-powered striated halo,
and so sages tell, a sign of faith.

You chaste secreter of much potted gold,
crescented magic of arc-perfection
your brilliant mixtures of shaded hues
break raindrops into states
of optic illusion which act as temptation.

Oh consummate sweep of bow-creation,
who can know when and what
day you appear, colourfully naked.

Favour no seekers, oh Rainbow whom
by digging for myth will
selfishly follow roads right to your end.
Make therefore no friends
of illicit searchers for treasure, those
who see you as meant lure
for retrousséd wealth-embellishment.

Rainbow you cover your real blessings
in pseudo-gilt with which
ingratiates have become obsessed.

Sedate then all lucre-lust with a curved
root at each end of your
rain-augmented foot to waylay theft.
Divert and deflect looters with luminous
know-how and curl into
spacial deception before desecration.

Bedazzle all lechers by preventing entry
to any pretentious view
of your sensitive and tremulous end.

You as writhe of kaleidoscope can keep
away crooked schemers
by retaining your varisome irridescence.
Alive with mysterious rays
behave like a ghost loathing the sun, be
as invisible, turn pale, fade,
and disappear to invalidate trespass.

Rainbow hide what is always your own
from blind passers by with
greedy *****-eyes, stay unmolested.

Stretch out your tracery uncontrolled,
a beauteous vision who keeps
her vaulted prism a glorious whole.

Love, the eternal underprized God-word
has become today

mostly outmoded.

Alteration stains its disguised state, for
love, absurdly changed to shadows,
is merely pretence

and smells corroded.

Masquerading as depth with no worth
love lies weakened and is nothing
special, seen by some

as almost inept.

Left un-nurtured, this gift called love
withers when carnal lust invades
and fades its force to

rating mere second.

Desecration of words begets usurpers,
and non-use deteriorates power
when love is viewed

as fervor demeaned.



Once confessed love needs constancy,
otherwise as with any mistook
God-word, compromised

love becomes surreal.

As each ebbing tide seaward out-pours
to leave its remembrance
on sand's empty spaces,
as the breakers slip back to clasp shores
before again parting
my thoughts turn to gone embraces.

As life's rollers drag me, heedlessly
back thru' tears unforeseen
where no dry eye ever dwells
on-moving tides bring me no release  
for I see now with regret,

that we had no time for farewells.

Dyed-in-the-wool commitment, knitted tight
to the reigns of tidy life will forbid dreaming.

Counted as wastage by common-sense sight
dreaming is seen behind myopic screens
and single-track minds believe this, blindly.

Shell off this misunderstanding, take flight
and join the first misty cavalcade to find
life that, only in dreams, can be seen aright.

Intangible clouds will open to notions
on faraway planes,
dress in right attire for chimerical muse
and fly deep ocean's
speedway to inspiring stars where fire
lit with gleads of potent ideas
vibrates inside a luminous heart, stoke
it alight and watch sparks
of melodious lines catch flame then wait.

New states will translate as words write
themselves, this yielding
to fervour for needing more dreaming
means insight appears,
grows stable, will flow and succeed.

Who visits this wild land sees,
in the vision-bright eyes of birds and beasts
where grass, wind-bent
and weather-dried clings to high cliffs
for dear life as granite shelters
no more than hovering feather and rabbits
who stay close to their hides.
Where eagles keep day-watch for movement
in heather of bobbed tails, or white
hopping ears in habitual
cocked wariness then like a knife of forked
light the predators fall.
Fern-fattened fur leaps or freezes
in prey-fright,
eyes glaze and stay frozen as falcon attacks.

Such is the dictum
of law and order among the creatures
surviving in wilderness
yet persist in a fierce kind of freedom.
Who seek for behaviour
in those being true to themselves owns
that this island has places
where human-less only nature controls.

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.

When I, led sleepless through uneasy dark
sigh lonely for thee.
When moon rides high its wide curved arc
and cold falls crisp on flower and tree.
When sun bids farewell to skyline's blue
and a mist covers first starlight with dew
how I sigh for thee.

When I, dreaming walk lone ocean waves
again sigh for thee.
When wind rides high the sea's briny lace
and a moon turns pale its filters on me.
When Neptune roams his wild-water hall
and foaming white horses rise only to fall
how I sigh for thee.

When I, wakened bone-tired before dawn
sigh weary for thee.
When sun rides high as day becomes worn
and noon lies basking over calmed sea.
When distance between us taxes this heart
and needed commitment keeps love apart
how I sigh for thee.

Let tight knots in the heart
loose and shake down soft streams of quiet
to untie and fledge confined feelings.

Allow them to fly.

Take wing into a Now-land
of unlimited freedom where failure does not
apply nor is it found.

Choice is unbounded.

Do not expire before trying each dream.

Find fervent zeal within life's choicest fields
and pick all the love-seeds.

Tended and grown inside then watered with
joy, mood's fruitage alters
mindsets and oils attitudes for when once
digested folk learn to lighten.

Every life has great purpose which all, in
the finding may realize.

Humans are born to share love.

This is our true birthright.

With sun already flaring behind
furnace doors ridges
of cloud turn scarlet, reddened
by glow cut through
dusk's entrance to slice fine lines
into porcelain sea.
With portent of ebony so deeply
embedded in darkening
dome lie unburnt crimson coals
settling on evening.
With handsome day vanquished
in an eye's blink I see
not one last glimmer in twilight's
present foreboding, for
night proposes clapping in cuffs
the near dying sun
and Ol' Sol must yield to his cell.
Seagulls reluctantly whirl
with haphazard simitared custom
as dark gulps with intent
to blanket in murk birds' descent
then frowning day, sunk
sulkily sudden, I wending home
see rising a milky-white
moonbeam sending pale kisses to
light first star and I smile.
With the next dawn sides will roll
out the changes once more.

Here breaks another dawn
where light's breath still indrawn
enters new morning

Rays chase away stars, dies
the dark while smouldering sky
sees Ol' Sol rising.

Here edge of night persists
with early wet ****-red mists
which warming resists.

Light rejoices in day's birth
by a boisterous outburst
of language unheard.

Here at dawn's choice moment
of molten change explosive
chaos re-forms.

Great standing stones,
lichen pocked,
weather worn omens,
older than old,
fern spotted,
devotion holed,
wind bitten,
upright tho' time honed.

Granite flecked rocks,
holy pinnacles,
mossy grass knotted,
atop high hills,
or valley hidden,
sole history keepers
you alone know
ancient faith watchers,


so tell me your secrets.

Let me show you the magic of how one dream
brings action into being.

Bells peal as Utopia opens for need unshackles
attraction that lasts.

I am the queen of Surreal whose spell will make
your wishes unbreakable.

I demonstrate fresh ways to enhance happiness
by alchemic fantasy.

The food of Eden grows round secret intentions
of sowing togetherness.

The feel of forever arises each time a proaction
evokes atoms of passion.

I am love's Muse so if your desire is for ecstasy
call nightly for me.

Oh Light, you travel so fast,
invisibly cladding
this planet in change which
nothing can hinder,
altering colourless night-hue
you, in an eye's flick
gilt sea's face, reveal distance,
you, more than that
touch land in filigree-silver,
melting black fingers
of mist netting dune's grass
and more than that,
your whispers to unfolding
flora in still-dark
corners make numberless
petals succumb
to your calls, sensuous fur
feels your warming
as feathery sleep blinks in
readiness to dawn's
breezy ruffles for morning
stirs wings, fins
stretch in watery beds and
more than that,
humanity worldwide yawns
at your warning
of lullaby's finish and shakes
off drowse to see
how labour for hours ahead,
can be a life-giving
force with daylight's ready
aid, more than that
each sunset aims to put end
to your daily
performance but not before
that glittering exit,
the show of best-rays taking
central stage after
which Oh Light, you sink
slowly back into
your secret abyss and wait,
for more than
unthinkable would be life's
disastrous lack
if your worthy entrance it's
cue ever missed,
and for this, every earthling
human or otherwise
relaxes while offering sighs
of meant thanks.
to Light and to its Creator.

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.

With each advent of sun-showered lemon
wonderment happens,
a springing of close-coloured denseness
floods valley and field.

Local daffodil time opens frilly with captured
scents of happiness,
jam-packed with massed heads all nodding
welcome gilt greetings.

A yearly looked-for experience is this, so
breathing in sunshine
under blue sky I bend down to eye level,
and lie alongside an ocean
of yellowness wealth to feel floral motion
of therapy's finest.

To be momentarily floating atop flittering
waves of essence
is like swimming in Spring-coloured bliss.

Jewelled with
rainbow translucence roll
rain-bead *****
slowly down outside windows.

Golden-globe
seed pearls, clear watery
glories slide
in uniformed lines, floorward.

Diamonds in
transit they shine and fire
sparkle from
each crystaline orb's inside.

Smallest gems,
if unnoticed, might seem
irrelevant,
joining the fall into sheen.

Caught however
by eyes with keen poetic
insight odes
to rain-drops might follow.

Heavy with deepest deep sleep
he feels layers begin to un-zip
one by a bleary other
they all strip off.

Aware now of small moving feet
shuffling away he starts a hazy
ascent but finds drousiness
wanting to stay.

Too early, he knows he leaves
dreams half done and grieves
missing wars almost won
but rudely awakened
chores have begun.

Wearily raises sleep-held lids
to see standing, wide-eyed
and night-attired his kids
with tray over-filled.

And all shouting as planned
a loud 'Happy Father's Day'
for tho' tactlessly done
in a flash he rolls over
hugging each one.

"Love" as a word expresses
and covers
a single Dad doing his best.

After annual bustle of end's festival feasts
2016, sagging under repletion,
blinks crusty lids and remembers December.

The time for retiring infuses old heart-beats
with intention of losing as top rank yields
to immature youth pretentiously present.

As New Year's first birth-cry appears bristling
with fervour the white whiskered
Sage denies more twelve-monthly contracts.

Wisely de-throned a King's brisk move permits
sight of things not as yet seen, quickens
time's costly broom to sweep free any lost past.

So as stale dies back may the un-tried drench
every mind with opportune's freshest
for regrets bear naught to the weaving of new
.
Wishing dear friends that 2017 brings a scent
of real riches, gifting you peace, health
and moments of memorable happenings too.

With warm New-Year hugs to all - from Fay.

(With gratitude to poet G.M. Hopkins)

Praise for all variation,
that diversified play of colour and shape
which takes away sameness
and paints nature with sheer tessilation.
Hooray for the patchwork
of harlequin stripes in that mackerel sky
or those chequered blotches
embroidered on coats of every dalmatian.
Applause for the hues
shot through peacocks and each rainbow,
those pied streaks in ponies,
marbling of stone, the frets in wide bands
on speckled trout, braided
tattoos over the backs of zebras and tigers
flecked with a motely
collection of artistically peppered mosaics.
Smiles for tri-colours
in butterflies and piebald frogs just made
to reflect luminous wet.
For kaleidoscope difference let praise be
and for all crazed irridescence
seen in the glorious abundance of nature.

Stormforce confronts the tail-end
of innocence and carefree
calm hurled away, fire's mind-set
lights departure's legacy.

Life in the wake of changes acts
out a merciless course,
composure alters as hurtful facts
faced are being absorbed.

Scarring of hope exposes wounds
and festers turn raw
as lover's lost trust starts to ooze
bile inside heart's disorder

Lies like turbulence cause offence
to shards of memory
and words strike hard when sense
betrays waywardness.

Gathering a last frenzied strength
truth floods thru resistance,
forces entry, flails and quenches
a taste for forgiveness.

Now dry-eyed the lady fights on
safer ground, well-shaken
but wiser and still climbing from
his bitter betrayal.

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.

This Heart.

When I, led sleepless through uneasy dark
sigh lonely for thee.
When moon rides high its wide curved arc
and cold falls crisp on flower and tree.
When sun bids farewell to skyline's blue
and a mist covers first starlight with dew
how I sigh for thee.

When I, dreaming walk lone ocean waves
again sigh for thee.
When wind rides high the sea's briny lace
and a moon turns pale its filters on me.
When Neptune roams his wild-water hall
and foaming white horses rise only to fall
how I sigh for thee.

When I, wakened bone-tired before dawn
sigh weary for thee.
When sun rides high as day becomes worn
and noon lies basking over calmed sea.
When distance between us taxes this heart
and needed commitment keeps love apart
how I sigh for thee.

There exists silence not found by sound,
..........
in the heart of a desert or deep
under oceans
...........
where, mutely profound,
voiceless vibrations intend to be given
full hearing for
destined truth their presence propounds
...........
thus when two
fated human souls meet and exchange
first rapt greetings
they too interpret belief, tho' not aloud,
silently speaking
to transfer desire of twin-flamed feelings
..........
knowing love's
secret whispers will never need sound.

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.

Whispers from wine-coloured moonlight have now
blighted old river grass.
No-one will pass by this flood's blistering chorus of
frustrated past outcry.
The waters stay silted with years-long, war-seared
bitterness as each ill-timed
Peace talk crumbled to finish killed by conclusions
of coated top-brass.

Dreams of the tortoise-shelled butterfly days faded
long before turbulent rapids
Drew young men and women toward battles over
naught but misapplied fears.
Lifetimes float hormonally by in riverside history of
pride's facade of need for action
Forces, press-mustered are taught blind allegiance
to naught but mindless leads.

Listening I hear victims' bubbling exits still weeping
regrets for conceding to hate.
Wisps of blood-to-come days surface from tainted
mud as no war moulders easily.
What happens when, hit by flows of violence peace
can no longer struggle for gain ?
In reddened undertow of river-mud woes rise from
those caught up in sightless obedience.

Carrying On.

Sea crosses curved world,
pulls in its waters
as ebb and fall tides
hold back mighty floods
from earth's bolstered sides,
so life carries on
against crash and cry
of breaker destruction
and fights with great fervour
to keep boats on shore
when waves become mighty.

Stars like sparks splutter to bed
as birds catch fire.
****-red lips of sultry sun kiss
mouldering night
and in dawn's shimmering light
greet lightening sky.
Throat of thrush flintily strikes
other minds as incite
to fly for edge of day's eye sets
alive morning's
explosions that electrify every
tongue in flight
while I, amazed, note the calls
of each feathered
awaker who knows time's sign
has arrived to feed
if for today chicks are to thrive.

Ebony's Gold.

Dark fast erupts with decisive lust,
locks in skybound eyesight
between banks of low cloud.
and blocks all sight of a sinking sun.

Dusk folds early into twilight's hold,
attacks any last view of
homecoming bird flight and
wraps shadows round ebony's gold.

Night awakens and strikes daylight,
cuts sunset's late shine from
evening's nocturnal edges
then shuts pitch darkness in, tightly.

Battle for might ends and what wins
is descending blackness
but dawn's fight prior planned
sun's mighty push shall again begin.

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.

Omens.

A twiggy brown deadness
Is tapping my window.
A flowerless wisteria
Waits sighing for Spring.
Small underskin budlets
Are ready for bursting.
Winter's end omens
Means greening draws near.
New underground movement
Starts wrapping the sightless.
White rootlets are marching
Towards their new year.
Spring's deadly invasion
Starts killing wind's eastness
Bloomless persuasion
Begins new petalling.
An underneath breathing
Sighs silent yet thirsty
For first taste of lifeblood
That Spring's "Hello" brings.

Brushes which fuse earth and sun
in bold oily strokes.
Lines that move across landscape
like flames of smoke.
Palette fervent with passion colours
light's very moment.
Framed an artistic heart's anguish
stays ever molten.
Signed by Van Gogh fire-gilt paint
never goes cold.

Jewelled with
rainbow translucence roll
rain-bead *****
slowly down outer-windows.

Golden-globe
seed pearls, clear watery
glories slide
in uniform lines, floorward.

Diamonds in
transit they shine and fire
sparks from each
crystalline orb's inner eye.

Smallest gems,
if unnoticed, might seem
irrelevant when
joined by rush into sheen.

Caught however
by eyes with keen poetic
insight rain-drop
beauty bequeaths an ode.

Back Then.

There was for us something so holy back then
in that lovely OtherWhere.

We found out-spoken feelings consolingly
warming and care became real.
Raising our faces to preordained fate we
found bliss within dreams.

There was something of glory about love in
that wonderful OtherLand

Absorbing out-pouring from duel openness
we took hope and believed.
Joy must have re-cloaked all heaven with
our beautiful secret.

Ever was lasting and Now was unsinkable.

Happiness followed a daily routine as Hello
impacted twin-souled contact.
Born then contentment with intimate rain of
reflective close pattern.

A state arose where death was unthinkable

Satisfied moorings meant patiently waiting
until change altered lonely.
Exchange of anticipation balanced each taste
of our myopic throne.

But health unexpectedly hit rocks and sunk.

As I paid the Boatman my coin of acceptance
mourning wept oceans of grief.
Sudden wrecked notions of OtherTime and
struck reality in raw hysteria.

Storms of aloneness drown reason and clung.

Yet different horizons within saline's fall gave
never-moreness clearer vision.
Wait would not be outgrown but tears which
recede can reach appeasement.

Scars back then were eventually fleshed over.

Conciliation accepts calmer seas if heartbreak
makes enough concessions.
Future togetherness in a new OtherPlace will
prove better without an aggressor.

There was for us something holy back then in
that treasured OtherWhere

and will be again.

A MORNING STORY.

She appears,
the Morning Princess,
decked in
dew-fresh, see-through
dress of
dappled grey net and
followed
by cloudy attendants.
Around her
blankets of night, now
folded away
show a starry-diamanté
blue petticoat
which she knows, though
patched
will still be attractive.
Dawn Lady,
now plays central-stage,
starts gliding
side-ways and bows to the
up-rising Sun
who strides into view and
smiles roundly
at her obvious comeliness.
He surrounds
her with ***** intentions,
drowns that
dappled laciness in huge
newly-found heat
and the two,
thirsty for copulation to
begin, dance
in showers of fated rain.
She blushes
before capitulation as
maids should
but Morning Princess
soon becomes
mated, crowned then
as Day-Queen,
and feeling quicken the
baby inside
who in due time will be
the next
Morning Princess, this
Lady sighs as
she shyly remembers.

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.

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.

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.

As night's grizzly crown falls
to the rite of light's way
its servant sun unlocks all
dawn's turreted gables,
azure disposes of shawls
and warmth augments the first rays
as day pierces prisms in dark vault.

But mist gathers to veil
heaven, shrouds my cottage walls
and shuts every windowpane
until grey covers morning
with shadowy swirls of dim change.

What happened to the tuned chorus
of promised blue I thought would stay ?

Desirable.

Treasure comes sometimes excitement-boxed,
appealingly likeable, intriguingly
closed within secretive flame.

Yet to become more valuable it has to be locked
with an willing and amatory key by
a known and desirable name.

A stir of old fragrance has to arise when opened,
an erotogenic scent of endearment
meant for just two.

If a billet-doux has the allurement I had hoped
for, arrives via ether-line, carefully
discreet, I know it's from you.

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.