Love-Dust.

A heart's entrance door
opens only from inside to outwards
and once ajar, before
blinking at expressive freedom sees
love's unknown wonder.
Soul- secrets when told will astound
love's doubt through
meant whispers into dreamer's ears
then pour nectar over
each fur-lined ache of hurting need
as Cupid refills fonts
with sating love-dust. until slaked
is thirst by no more want.

Love me not
for any
grace
of beauty
in my shape
or face.

Love me not
by sight
of eye
love me
yet know not
for why.

Love, blind to weakness,
sees what it chooses    
but shadows cast images
and joy sits unused.

Doubt born of judgement
frowns at trust's view
and ends tender harmony
deflecting love's due.

We, what we are, attract
discordant tunes
but love's baton composes
more than just music.

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.

When hearts hunger to love
angels will see.

Need opens approach with
chance for release.

Heaven's intentions shall
brook no delays.

Freedom to show love is
how Love repays.

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.

Only love can understand love.

Nothing more shallow can plumb
to the core and only deep
can call to the depths of another.

Whether we meet love's many needs
depends upon floods
we have been through ourselves.

If we have been living near to the
surface we cannot grasp
love's profound underneathness.

Feet merely planted on greenest of
ground will not be fitted
to lift others deep in quick-sand.

For only love understands love.

Love Used.

Few refute that love
stayeth ever brand new
unless it be shown undoubtedly true.

True love remains undiluteable.

No misapplied glue
could cement love within
for meant love showeth not fickleness.

Love is not love if it be reduced

Sensually speaking
love kindles intense delight
tho' it seeketh no untenable height.

Love looketh not for uniformity.

Both in style and
performance in either
corner love wilt deal with any rival.

Love feedeth purely upon itself.

Too much be not
ever enough of what begs
mention as love's eternal profession.

Love used maketh love understood.

New events at times can mystify logical minds,
turn topsy-turvy accepted norms,
toss sky-high
respectable long held conclusions,then jumble
normal routine until, irretrievably,
it is tumbled.
Change in events scramble an unprepared brain,
life appears altered, time patterns
never the same,
confusion reigns until answers start making sense
of the questioning "whys" which
storm relentlessly
over unsought-for acceptance
and then blast
apart reliance on conventional views,
abnormally fast.
At last simple clarity reappears and rises above
any doubt as realization confirms
you have fallen in love.

What is deep I want fiercely.
What is heart-moving I need to feel.
In what is adventure I wish to partake
and live to fulfillment.

If time and chance allow me to dive
into experience I shall leave the shallows.
With wings boldly grown
what is known as free flight I want to try.


I intend learning the meaning of life's
hidden music.
If there are tunes sweeter dreams feed on
these I will start to sing.

So come forward potential.
I have mantra's mystique to re-invent inner
sensory limitations.
With what are catalysts for energy change
I want a positive avalanche.

If love means completion I shall barter no
more and surrender willingly.
What is bliss I want to fill with and give
my best to the saga of living.

What is deep I want fiercely.
What is heart-moving I need to feel.
In what is adventure I wish to partake
and live to fulfillment.

If time and chance allow me to dive
into experience I shall leave the shallows.
With wings boldly grown
what is known as free flight I want to try.

I intend learning the meaning of life's
hidden music.
If there are tunes sweeter dreams feed on
these I will start to sing.

So come forward potential.
I have mantra's mystique to re-invent inner
sensory limitations.
With what are catalysts for energy change
I want a positive avalanche.

If love means completion I shall barter no
more and surrender willingly.
What is bliss I want to fill with and give
my best to the saga of living.

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.

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.

Like flattened tin the shiny-faced sheet
of evening sea
buckles under a last languid breeze.

Wavelets slip free from liquid's neap-net
but height-less,
white tops become ****** back again.

Like metallic shush ebb-tide's lullaby
scrapes silence
from pebble-sand's continued sighs.

Gilded froth of night's low clouds touch
orb's drop as it
sinks into dusk's merciless clutches.

Like gossamer shroud mist covers light
and day recedes
'til dawn once more is ready to fight.

Mistrust.

The mistrust in a dying relationship
discolours love's eyes,
feels no reproof from past mistakes,
abuses kindness,
makes of togetherness an irritation,
turns truth to bland lies
and stands aside from communication
when one of two tries.
The breath of dead passion penetrates
beyond depth of ties
and wrecks with renewed realization
of non-compromise
while the mouth of rejection suffocates
taste for testing goodbyes,
not caring what strain lies in isolation.
Regret deeply sighs
when love retreats into disintegration.

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.

I chased this evening
Evening's fading sunset clouds,
Silver tin-foiled ribbons, tied
To grey-as-granite filigree.
Tinted skirts of hazy
Daytime's late farewell,
Night's ballooning moon parade
Displayed pale firework-light
Invasive coloured swathes
Across the best forgotten
Rainy afternoon.
Night's foothold sparked scuffs
Of steel in dust cascades
Across the waning light
While I stayed chasing

Moonstruck Lunacy.


Oh ominous moon,
pale portent of danger,white luminous disk
suspended aloft
in a midnight-high bloom of enchantment.
Hear me.

Thick blanket of black,
shot thru with bright shiny cats-eyes of light
and coated in soft
unearthly glimmer this earthy-dark night,
shine out your
lover's lantern-like gleaming on harvested
fields which are
waiting like I am from moonstruck insanity.
Retrieve me.

Aided by dreaming
you invaded my heart, broke down the door
to any resistance,
now ecstasy hides in clandestine moments,
secreted from daylight,
delighting in dark with this stolen obsession.
Release me.

Oh wanton moon,
which with passion bewitches us, he, bidden
by lunacy-love,
will come hurrying soon to my arms again,
and forbidden sparkle
from his eyes shall light and set me aflame.
Relieve me.

Oh moonbeaming night it is you I shall blame.
Believe me.

Wet as brown pebbles elderly faces

parade every day,

jackets held tightly to capped heads,

leading dogs lifting legs

or stooping in course of nature taken,  

ready bags, backs bent

painfully, retrieve to appropriate bins      

passing owners en route      

exchange nods in wind or cold drizzle,

bedraggled but usually  

rain-walking oldsters are glad despite

weather to find exercise

daily in canine care provides outings

never otherwise taken.

Sharing life with a four-pawed friend

shows tail-wagging prone      

to rain-walking gives mutual pleasure    

so those living out remains

of their days might not feel so alone,          

meeting familiar faces.

My Regeneration.

Take care fellow traveller
when walking with me.

Wayward from now is my new destiny.


This is no powder-puffed
genteel lass today.

No more the simple or simpering lady.


Regeneration opened
love's door to fresh air.

The former conformer is no longer there.


No scrap of convention
is found in my freedom.

Life is a better place to be, now I am me.

Like a fish
in liquid my movement feels free
as I see our future being unaltered
I can taste possibility in each dawn
for love's immortality
I at last see.

Like a bee
rushing between sweet pollen sacks
on leaving a former grief constriction
I race to abandon my cell's addiction
after tasting abundance and shall
not turn back.

Like wax
softened near fire I, melting in thanks
remember the ties love burnt together,
days of perfection shall last forever
if the Heavens make nectar such
as we drank.

New Depths.

Find the place where two seas meet,
stand on the edge of seen and unseen
and listen to Heaven speaking.

Love is too vast to describe in words,
look in the human mirror's universe
and discover new depths of person.

Real soul-beauty is empty of Self
but is filled with wonder's ecstasy.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Once in a while
fold back that vanity of solo-dreams
and enter behind
the phantom where hangs concealed
a land of angelic
enchantment where spirited dancing
is made so attractive,
anticipate rapture in an advancement
toward fairy contact.

Seek Flora's cloud,
Queen of the Feys, she of fine stardust
dresses in smiles,
finest of ribbons perfumed with musk
light her prettiness
in spritely cascades, she of kiss- curls
bound up in brightness,
is there now and waits to be whirling
with you in delight.

Ask her to dance,
ethereal music embroiders her glance,
and as you unwind
earth-bound views unlock for fanciful
paths to entrancing
Togetherland that, angel-hued, sways
in gossamer-hold
of beckoning hands who yours favour
for a mystical duo.

Dancing with angels
is high on the list for poets who fancy
time spent with muses
so not to be missed is the first chance
to step on Fey's floor
and take her in dance as magic occurs
when bliss heightens
the urge to write and make of words
something delightful.

Oh Word,
whose language can be lily or rose,
rain, dewy cloud, scaly fish
or feathered bird,
whose music trumpets in morning
and plays out night,
orchestrates stars, speaks thunder
and sunshine.
Word, who composes lion, dolphin
or lively stoat,
inscribes wisdom in insect, gorilla
and mountain goat,
writes perfect signatures in each
atomic thing,
whose silent symphony mystifies
with symmetry.


Word, praise to thee who sang Self
into humanity
for looking we find in thy grammar
superb diversity.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Ours was perhaps not love,
the sort that demands proof,
fervour which naught can drown,
the passion that willingly lays down
itself for another's approval, no our own
was something written in much lighter tone.

Ours the keenness of separates
easily walking and talking together,
reaching for comfort from a kind hand
when hurts demanded an understanding,
yes ours was desire for friendship's corner,
of choices honoured and respect in full order.

Yet love was there, it grew
with care of each for each,
so in losing you, death too,
of a sort, took life from me.

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.

I reach for your core of warmth
in musings and dreams.

They lift me lightly into your keeping.

Large loads float by, weightless,
after reading your verses.

Hurts melt in the heat of your words
and become no more a burden.

Holding you soul-close my spirit survives.

Time cannot enliven me
like warm phrasing and rhyme.

If this be love then love transforms parting.

Breathe then your gold, dear friend,
pen it over my heart.

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.

Phoenix-Bird.

In memory of John White the talented
sculptor of beauty from trees. R.I.P.
..........................................................­........

Rising from what appears petrified stone
stands the ****, elmwood sea bird,
head *****, wide-eyed and wings tightly rolled.
Sleek with much oiling, prepared
to a smoothness with masterful honing
to grace any home, careful
artistic handling sculpted life-like finely-*****
structure, feathery wings, rare
hooded head, feet webbed to perfection thrown
over elm boulder, toes pared
to sharp-claw completion, finely tooled cloning
of the real might soon be heard
shaking whittled wings to leave wooden throne,
and magically fly, stirring
dreams that a phoenix bird has risen and flown.

Festtooned around
sweet-faced
Tracery of words,
never deeper
Than exquisite phrasing,
Lies counterfeit,
creeping
Retrouse' of unmeant
affection.
Playing at love
is outright
Two-faced plain
deception.
Fake tendrils never
curl round right
And the genuine heart
Knows, pain shows
when hurt starts.