The song thrush burns its tongue
With poems.
Words shimmer and fall like leaves.
Bob Dylan's Shakespeareanesq
Words flows,
Miles Davis' trumpet blows
And then....

©Jack Aylward

The leaves hear
The rain first.

©Jack Aylward

I removed myself from the darkness
Of the dead
But soon became a demon
On the run from the Gods.

©Jack Aylward

A velvet leaf of clover; green
As vivid grass
Is blowing in an
Apricot breeze
Near a stream
Of pollinated hay.

Luck is long as a drifting current
In the water
And the clover
Is a brooch
Near a felt sky.

©Jack Aylward

She sleeps.
She wakes.
She makes love.

She sits.
She sips
Her coffee.
She reads.
She weeps;
She remembers
Her first love.

She remembers
Every detail,
Every moment,
Every touch,
Aroma,
Taste,
Sight
And sound,
Every kiss,
Every beat
Of her heart...

©Jack Aylward,
11/10/04

Like a necklace smelts with gold;
Two rivers meet and fall in love.

©Jack Aylward

I gently kissed
Her moon-cupped
Breast.
With a sigh
She gave
Me a sun.

©Jack Aylward,
15th January 2013

Love we both envied;
Even in death
We shared
The same skin,
The same smell,
The same waste
Of insanity.

....We broke away
From each other's touch;
Entering the last few
Dying seconds of humanity.

©Jack Aylward

Each memory
Holds your breath....

I will never forget
The touch
Of your tongue
Of many adventures
Kayaking
Down the river
Of my mouth;

The solar eclipse
Of our copulating lips.

©Jack Aylward,
20/2/14

Time is a wound;
We age
With scars.

©Jack Aylward

******* in the morning
Of the first moon;
We make harvest
For the future.

©Jack Aylward

You are here: with me.
With little strokes of fire
With warm *******,
Strong embraces
And kisses like flames
Burnt my lips of paper.
Our hearts are flint
Rubbing together;
Igniting the flame
To the match.

©Jack Aylward,
24/4/08

The sign of our ending is marked here.
Our bodies are left alone
In caged lettered boxes;
Donating our realistic uncovered corpses
To the ground.

©Jack Aylward

The u-turn of uninterrupted talk
Falls short before the midnight hour
And through the remembrances
The hushed
Echoing of a printed face smiles
Among the old and new.
But only you know he has gone,
For your heart is broken
And thrown about the room
Where your old man's chair sits alone....
Where you once shared
A laugh and a joke,
A tear and a smoke,
A kiss and a hug,
A poem and a mug
Of tea,
(With a wee dram of Glenmorangie)
On a cold night
By the firelight,
Reading Frost
- 'The Grindstone'
In candlelight,
Listening to Django Reinhardt's
'Crazy Rhythm'
On the radio
As it beats out a frenetic system
Of notes that runs and parts
Into segments of your mind.
Now you are on your own,
You sit back to find
What you have lost....

©Jack Aylward,
July 2013

Under the stars
We fall back
Onto the grass.
In open arms we form together
To kiss each other's lips.
Our naked bodies eclipsed;
Embraced
By the moons
Light and water.

©Jack Aylward

The night city
Embers;
Glows and burns
Its heat with fire.

Torches blazes,
Scorches, grazes.

I lie awake
At night
Listening to the crackle
And the spitting sparks.

©Jack Aylward,
19/10/13

I'll
Take
All
Loves
Yearning.

                                  ­         Jack Aylward,
                              2/10/16

Each molecule
In the air,
Each platonic
Kiss
Of your hair,
Of your lips,
Of the things
We once were
Like atom
To atom
Dust to dust;
Freedom to touch
As we float in the air.

©Jack Aylward,
12th June 2005

Love unknown
Time to walk away.

I seem to collect
The loners and the losers
And they are all my lovers.

But this one I seem to want to forget
I don't know her
She doesn't know me.

Because of her
We walk the streets
Day and night
Like tramps
Unhinged with drink and drugs
And strange ***.

Unconnected
We drag
Ourselves
To our own mausoleum.

©Jack Aylward

We stand in open arms;
In awe.
We stand like crucifixes
Praying and thanking it
Like it were a god.
Its eager eye
Penetrating your brain.
You obey
It like a slave.

©Jack Aylward

The night dreams
And I am locked in.

Death speaks to me
Of love
On silken wings.

The grasses hush and weep....

I am terrified
To come out
Of my bedroom;
To open the door,
To go downstairs.

Shouting and arguing for hours
Is all I hear.

So instead I lie in bed reading
Or writing poetry,
Listening to Jimi Hendrix records.

- I lie there dreaming
Of happier times
That will never come.

©Jack Aylward,
16/4/12

My hand gently squeezing
Your soft milky *******.
Your ******* hard
Between my fingertips.
I reach down
Between
Your legs
Pressing my lips
To kiss.

My tongue
Enters
In.

©Jack Aylward,
8th April 2008

We fold together like paper.
Our hearts beating;
Breaking and twisting open
Love's ***** dome.

With flight our minds
Melt words in pools of autumn sun
As we carve our initials in wood.

Our shape flits
Like butterflies
As we lie wet and naked
Moving together in heat.
Floating like lillies,
Like rose petals
Descending down the riverbank.

©Jack Aylward

I have settled and grown up
Here as a child where the
Garden is full of flowers and fruit
And the river is a rainbow.

The smell of peat fires in the morning
And warm crusted bread wafts
Slowly down the lane.

Wooden crates full to the top
With apples, pears
And strawberries
Are left outside the front porch
Ready to be brought
Into the cottage
Where the juices fall
Into an outstanding
Fruitfulness.

Roses hang still over the river and blossom
Into wine
Where also in the garden of light
Bullfinches, sparrows,
Chaffinches sing
And daisies and buttercups lie
In a sweltering sun
Of perfumed heat.

Over and over the green hills
I look down into the deep valleys
Where lakes are flavoured with
Pineapples and waterfalls
With damsons.

The garden of apricot jams, willows
And lily ponds open and spread
Their tasteful colour in an
Orchard of beaming texture and an
Opening of real wonder.

In our thatched white cottage
Smoked hams saturated in salt and fat
Sit above the crackling log fire
And the rooms are filled with gloominess.
A particular charm drifts through
The place from the
Warm glowing fire.

- Oh how the light passes through the
Whole house and how each window
Is a copy of glittering diamonds
That spreads
Across the musical garden of bells
And down onto the cobbled path
Where the geese
Flap their feathered gowns and fly off
Into the blue mountains
Where their
Feathers fall into the sun.

Cider is drunk by the gallon
From cider presses
And the fragrant
Ingredients are a special delight
Not to mention what it does
To the mind afterwards
As we drown happily
Upon the grass
Reading poetry
Or kissing our lovers soft lips
Under the shade of the trees
There the dove calls from the tree tops
Where our earthly hearts are scattered
And nearby a rose closely shimmers
In an azured wood.

©Jack Aylward