These days it seems
I remember my early childhood
Better than the contents of my last meal
Dementia creeps.......

Right now,
I'm remembering one early evening
With four of us small boys
Sitting on a wall
Discussing the realities of the world
As we knew it

The moon was pale but visible
And a subject for discussion
As serious as old men playing chess
We wondered how far away it could be
One lad said it was farther than London
But we knew that was obviously wrong
After all
We could see the moon
No-one had seen London

                                       By Phil Roberts

Truly,
The stories and songs fall short of your beauty
Truly,
your beauty surpasses even the largest sea

You
run your(selves)
foaming
over imperfect
jagged
boulders
water
healing, abrading,
breaking me
into round
handfuls of
careful heft,
scattered along
freshly carved
sandy bends
(where more
than a few are
said to have
struck gold),
waiting for
wanderers
to seek a stone
that fits
and skip it
onetwothreefourfivesixdang
across peaceful you
calming as we 
luxuriate,
spread out,
slow the flow
inevitable
inexorable
loss of us
both into
impassive
sea

These gelid mornings
engender island dreams
of pinkest flamingos,
hot sands, swaying palms,
chattering parrots,
and rising tropical sun;
but finer far, Lady,
(closer, nearer, softer)
would it be to wake
beside your naked flesh
(willing, inviting, enfolding)
beneath a pile of quilts
in the dawn's iron chill
and coax from that
smoldering feminine heat,
from the striking sparks
of your eager kisses,
the exquisite, explosive fuel
of your caresses, deep
within the you of you,
the first fire of the new day.
  - mce

In his whole life,
he had loved
only three women;
she was the last.
If love
is a Trinity,
that makes her
his Holy Ghost,
the breath of God,
always present,
never visible:
so stunningly
appropriate.
  - mce

You must give him your life.
He won't settle for less.
He will turn it into poetry
and become you
for a little while.
He will wear your skin
next to his own
and feel your darkest pains,
your most exquisite pleasures.
He will finally understand
your definition of love
and why you will leave him.
He will steal the secret
of your deepest longing
and know how to satisfy you.
But he will make
a few unasked for
subtle alterations
in your soul.
Then he will return it
as something
slightly different.
You will notice.
He will amaze you;
he will charm you.
You might even love him,
but you will never trust him.

  ~mce