Las Vegas hit me like a
Jab on the jaw
Rome was an adventure

But I always felt more a
Stranger than
Here, where

Every face |even those of
Smitten tourists|
Carry the features of

"Friend". **** you, London.
Your every borough makes me
As warm as the arms

Of an ex you wish
Wasn't
One.

Dusty the miller sits on the sill
And idly waits for a turn of the mill,
but the wind is fickle and will not blow
so the sails won’t turn and the mill won’t go,
and Dusty the miller his wage can’t earn
for his blooming wife and his little bairn.
So he sends for Toby from down the lane
who sailed the seas of the Spanish Main,
and fought aboard The Prince of Wales
to whistle a wind up to drive the sails.
So Toby raised the pipe to his lips
and began to blow like they do on ships
and the notes went soaring into the sky,
to the home of the north wind bye and bye.
On hearing them the north wind draws
a mighty breath, and then he roars
and the sails of the mill begin to fill
and the last I heard they were turning still…

Summer days are past and gone,
And colder days now hurry on.
The lily draws her  tender bloom
deep into the cloudy gloom, and
soft mists risen in the night,
turn to frost at dawns first light.
In the margins of the pond
The ice holds fast the frozen frond,
and under hill the mole curls tight,
safe and warm throughout the night,
pink paws, pink nose, a velvet coat,
all safely hidden from the stoat!
The swans, clothed in their purest white
glide, like ghosts in black of night
as safely on the lake they sleep,
while the coot and moorhen peep
in their dark and sombre suits,
from the tangled willow roots.
The fox that cunning red marauder
creeps stealthily along the border,
as the weakling winter sun
Announces a new day begun.

The wind sighed in the rigging
and the sea murmured deep.
Better get some rest my bully boys
for you’ll get but little sleep.

Wind devils whistled a warning
halyards thrummed in the blast,
better take in sail afore the gale,
came the order at long last.

Up aloft and lively!
reef the main in hard.
claw it in and hold it,
lash it to the yard.

Heed not the winds drear moaning,
nor yet the thundering sea,
but cling to the mast
in the icy blast,
for it hath the strength of a tree.

Take shelter now my hearties,
for there’s little can be done,
the tempest’s force drives us from our course
and we’ll have to turn and run.

As the night grew black and thunder
drowned our weary sighs,
we ran ‘fore the storm and hoped,
for a sight of the mornings skies.

Do I inspire or am I dire?
Amusing or just boring.
Oh humph you say and turn away
Good gracius, are you snoring?
I really thought that you would have
a little understanding-but all you say is go away
and don't be so demanding!
If that's the case old funny face,
there will be no nights of passion,
until your churlish ways improve
in a politer fashion!

The vine grows tall against a wall,
it loves all places steeper
without the wall it's forced to crawl
and only rated creeper!

Forget your petty woes and gripes
0f who said what- to whom and why.
there is another life beyond
where millions all live and die.
He loves me or he loves me not,
does it matter? not one jot.
Get out there gal and sieze the day.
your heart is broken, it will heal.
You were betrayed,
come on, get real!
Rejoice and live,
you will feel pain.
but think of what you stand to gain!
life and love, all interwoven,
ballet, opera, Brahms, Beethoven!
think how fortunate you are,
how insignificant your woes,
think of children without love
lacking shelter, food and clothes.
put it all into perspective
seek a friend that you can trust,
friendship is so all important,
without it love is only lust!
Don't marry the one that you can live with,
marry the one you can't live without.
Life is there just for the taking,
Time is passing don't delay.
A leap of faith, a little courage,
Lookout gal your'e on your way....!

How outrageous it was
that the world refused to stop
Even for a moment
To give a person
one more reason
For their world to turn

poetry
is the ability
to strike someone once
and have the sound resonate
inside them forever

prose
is describing the sound
with more resonances

70

“Arcturus” is his other name—
I’d rather call him “Star.”
It’s very mean of Science
To go and interfere!

I slew a worm the other day—
A “Savant” passing by
Murmured “Resurgam”—”Centipede”!
“Oh Lord—how frail are we”!

I pull a flower from the woods—
A monster with a glass
Computes the stamens in a breath—
And has her in a “class”!

Whereas I took the Butterfly
Aforetime in my hat—
He sits ***** in “Cabinets”—
The Clover bells forgot.

What once was “Heaven”
Is “Zenith” now—
Where I proposed to go
When Time’s brief masquerade was done
Is mapped and charted too.

What if the poles should frisk about
And stand upon their heads!
I hope I’m ready for “the worst”—
Whatever prank betides!

Perhaps the “Kingdom of Heaven’s” changed—
I hope the “Children” there Won’t be “new fashioned” when I come—
And laugh at me—and stare—

I hope the Father in the skies
Will lift his little girl—
Old fashioned—naught—everything—
Over the stile of “Pearl.”