The Girl who spent heartbeats

Her currency was heartbeats
She only shopped with time.
She paid for things with seconds
As she waited in a line.

You cannot put heartbeats in a money box.
To save for a rainy day.
You either use them or you lose them
Heartbeat’s are made that way

She would spend heartbeats on strangers
As they shared their troubles and woes
Because kind hearts are worth more than riches
And go much further than money goes.

She would spend a heap of heartbeats on moments
Visiting old and precious friends.
Who wondered how she was so happy
With so little money to spend.

But money only buys possessions
While heartbeats buy much more.
They buy  you friends and love and laughter
And a warm  smile at every door.

It a fact you can’t buy heartbeats
When you have used them they are gone
So spend your heartbeats wisely
For one day you will have none

Finding my Heaven
a letter to my grandpa

I remember you when mom died grandpa.
I was so small and frightened.
You took me to your home.
I remember your unshaven face and
brown hard working hands Grandpa.
you fixed everything with your hands.
But you fixed me with your love.

you gave me mom's old room.
You told me it was her safe place
and she would visit me there.
When she was settled in heaven.

I told you I did not
believe in heaven Grandpa.
You said it's alright I will one day.
Heaven was a different
place for everyone.

When I got hurt
you always picked me up
in your huge arms Grandpa.
it was always so safe.

I never told you Grandpa
I lied when I said
I don't believe in heaven.
You and grandma were my heaven.

I know you have gone
now to your heaven.
Sat in a kitchen up there
eating food from the old country.
Grandma at the stove
mom on your knee listening
to stories of Europe
before the war.

My heaven was
with you all grandpa.
I think I will
change my heaven
to yours after all.
That's all I want Grandpa
just our heaven.

I only wish
there was a post office
in our heaven
and I could send
this letter to you.

All My Love Grandpa

Jude

The Healer

*The sadness fell on the earth
like spiders webs.
Hanging from the starless sky.
The healer wept in empathy
of the world’s broken heart.
Taking a globe that held
all the places on this planet
He layed his healing hands upon it.
Tell me where it hurts he whispered
Tell me now I will drain my healing powers
Into it.
It shouted in the sorrow
of a soul in pain.
Everywhere.
Everywhere.
Everywhere.

Love letter to my soulmate.
by
Jude Kyrie

For so long I have waited.
Waited to see your smile
to hear your voice
to look into your eyes.

I know you are looking for me
for I am the one
who is your destiny.

Let your soul travel
when you sleep my love.
Let it look in the far reaches
of Land sea and space.
Even on the dark side
of the moon.
For I have released my soul
on a quest to find you.

I know when our souls meet
they will know each other
from many lifetimes
And they will dance in the light
filled with joy.

Do not lose faith
that we will find
each other my love.
For we are real.
We exist.
Just as the stars exist
even when they cannot
be seen in the light
of the sun.

on the eighth day

by

Jude kyrie


*After the world
was completed
the day of rest taken.
On the eighth day
he invented the blues.
Even the songbirds
wail like an alto sax in pain.
Sitting alone on the bench
by the parkette
the color blue
Is everywhere I look,
the sky dark blue
dropping an
occasional raindrop tear.
A blue ladies dress
Blue umbrellas.
Blue memories
slowly jogging past.

The traffic
moans the blues.
In a muted cacophony.
Now a blue wind blows
gently almost sobbing into
a wailing drainpipe.

I sip my Gatorade
Its flat and blue.
A cool breeze
blows by my face
from the blue waters
of the lake.

I hold up my finger
to touch the color blue.
But it passes
right through me.

The man with green hair and green hands.

A long long time ago
When army’s wore uniforms.
We were khaki they were grey.
My grandfather was fire warden
In WW2 he had seven sons
And three daughters .
You could say he was
a bit of a pacifist.
Make love not war
Was his mantra.
He married my Grandma
when she was seventeen.
They were to stay married
for over sixty five years.
And produce  tribe of ten children.
He had spent his whole life
Working as a coppersmith
For the same company.

His hair and hands tinted green
From the metals Verdigris.
My father was a baby just born
In the middle of the war.
We lived in Manchester.
Money was always tight.
But we were happy.
Just as Herr ****** invaded Poland
My grandad bought our first house.
We always rented until then.
It was a large town home.
The six older boys
All joined the marines
At the outbreak of the war.
They did one act of preparation
That ultimately saved the family.
They took down an old barn for a farmer
And used the beams to shore up the stone cellar
of the house.
When the air raids came later.
We would all huddle under the stair well
Until the all clear sirens sounded.
When the bad raid came
It was the early hours of the night.
Grandad was out on fire watch.
Six of the sons were on ships
In Europe and the far east.
My aunty told me much later.
When the war was long over.
She heard the bomb falling
It screamed as it fell.
Exploding just outside our house
the house caved in and they
were all buried under the rubble
in total darkness.
She said grandma was
breastfeeding the baby my dad.
Grandad was busy the raid was a hard one.
A friend said Frank your house has been hit
It’s bad.
He dropped everything and ran and ran
Breathless he reached the fallen house.
In his heart he thought we were all dead.
It took ten neighbors four hours to reach us.
They pulled the girls out first
Then the baby my dad.
And finally the dimutive figure of my grandma.
She was weeping.
She said Frank we’ve lost everything.
There’s nothing left.
He held her in his big arms
Tears flowing from the eyes of a man
Who had had a hard life.
Who never cried.
He kisses her full on her lips
A single sign of public affection
That was out of his character.
He whispered to grandma.
That odd Mary
Because I just found
Everything I ever wanted or needed.

A single tea leaf from China
By
Jude Kyrie.

*A tea leaf from China is all it took.
I cleared the house of all her things
In her room her glasses and an  open book.

In my old room a final look
So full with memories that life brings
A tea leaf from China is all it took.

The tables gone from the kitchen nook
With the vase that bloomed in a far off spring.
In her room her glasses and an  open book.

In the kitchen cupboard a rose china cup
A single tea leaf on its rim my tears it brings
A tea leaf from China is all it took

I  see her drinking from her favorite cup
Her quiet time away from family things
In her room her glasses and an open book.

Thats when the grief  hit me dark as soot
Her lips had touched this tiny thing.
a tea leaf from China is all it took.

I see her planning her meals to cook
You are my children you darling things.
A tea leaf from China is all it took
In her room her glasses and an open book.

A Story From Nam

We were seventeen or eighteen in Nam
we became friends forever.
No more than friends.
Soldiers get closer than wives.
We went to sleep saying
I love you man.
We switched letters
For our girlfriends.
In case… well just in case.

The bullets rained
in the clearing that night.
I can still see the tracer lights.
Guys fell down all around me.
Crying everywhere.
Air power cleared them away.

I looked for Joe he was lay there.
I held him close
like a baby as he left us.
His last words
I love you man.
I whispered to him
Not as much
as I love you Man
.
I did not notice I had been hit.
After six months I returned home.
In West Virginia his beautiful girl
Opened the door of a small trailer.
She had a baby boy in her arms.
Her blue eyes welled with tears.
I passed the unopened letter to her.
I lied and said the blood
on it was mine.

She passed the baby
to me to hold
As she read the letter.
I kissed his tiny forehead.
And said see buddy
You’re not dead at all
I love you Man.

She was ethereal.
So naturally beautiful.
She loved to fix broken things.
A birds wing,
A broken doll,
A China object,
Me.
She found me sad and broken
And she fixed me as good as new.
I loved her beyond everything.
But once I was repaired.
She let me go.
And my heart broke into
A million pieces.
So badly
That it can never
be repaired again

age 5

Why did you leave me mama
I miss you so bad
Did I do something wrong
Am I still your little boy

Age 12
I still think of you mama
Even after all this time
Sometimes when I fall asleep
I see you mama so beautiful

Age 20
I.can't remember your face mama.
It's been too long you are
fading like an old tune
I have not heard in years

AGE 30
You have almost become
A memory mama
Why did you never call me.
I know even now
I would put my arms around you
And say I love you.
People say it was too hard
For you to see me
And that you still loved me
I smile and nod.

But deep inside
I know it's something
Less than love
Yes for sure
Something
much less than love

Don’t fall in love with a poet.
By Jude Kyrie

I look into your trusting beautiful eyes.
You are so lovely so gentle and loving.
I wonder if you know yet
you will leave me.
For you are playing
with a tinder box.
And I am a gallon of gasoline.
The fire is inevitable.
You will find out there
A man who is gentle
with a loving heart
He will see only
the beauty in you.
You will have become
tired of my poetry
The emotional roller coaster
I choose to live on.
Weary of the poets afflictions
for red wine and infidelity.
You will fall into his bed
and he will welcome you.
Into his much stronger arms
than mine can ever be.
I shall return
to writing love poems
Poems that are
real to my heart
But to a woman
that cannot ever exist.
I shall frequent
the slam bars of the city.
And sleep with
the women who think its
Romantic to bed a poet.
Yet never ask
my last name.
So strike your tinder box.
Create a spark.
Save yourself
as I ignite into
flames before you.

The old pressed orchid
By
Jude Kyrie*

Within an old book in my library
An Orchid dried and pressed I see
Without color and fragrance a mystery
Romantic notions overwhelming me

Who made this volume an orchid’s tomb?
Forever hidden in a dark room
Perhaps a ladies hand from a long past year
A memento of her handsome lover so dear

Was it given at a meeting with hearts that soar?
Or a last goodbye as he went to war
Or as they kissed in heavens light
Sharing their love in the blue of night

Are they still together him and her?
Holding hands at this very hour
Or are they passed no longer here?
Love dried and withered
like this orchid flower

A Love poem to his lady
from a man's man.
Jude Kyrie

There's a songbird in my heart.
No one knows she is there.
She is beautiful and so delicate.
I can hear her singing sometimes.
She wants to come out of me
To let everyone see and hear her.
But I keep her imprisoned,

She is my private songbird.
|If I let others see her
I would lose respect and power.
I would lose deals.

People can see only
the worldly tough old me.
The one who doesn't
take wooden nickels.
The one who never cries.
The one with a
Missouri, show me, attitude.

But then sometimes
When the night is blue and long
And in the quiet, you are lay by me,
So beautiful And full of softness.
The moonlight framing your lovely face
I let her out
Just for you to hear her.
She changes the glow of the starlight
that outlines your body
and frames your hair like a halo.
She softens my voice
Almost to a whisper,
I say things to you that
I would never say
I whisper stupid things.
That the tough old me
would never say.

Like you are
the most beautiful thing in my life.
And I love you beyond life honey.
Tears of happiness well in my eyes
She makes me so gentle and loving.
It must be some kind of songbird trick

But then as the morning dawns sunlight
into our bedroom window.
I put my songbird in her cage again.
And get ready to face
the garish rude world
for just one more day.

A long long time ago
Before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was  an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..
He was a bit of a pacifist
live and let live was his way.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
on his belly lay on the planes belly.

At the airbase in the UK he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing fixer and developer.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.
When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a darkroom by hand
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship
and found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him
and she accepted.
when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark
but I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.

A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands
and also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.
I found grandmas note that was
pinned on the darkroom door
she passed a way a few weeks ago.
And I was moved to tell this story.
Follow the light Grandma love.
look for a big man with a crooked smile
and big hands hes waiting for you.

a Lady at psychological
treatment center.
she tells the therapist her story.
she says she's being abducted
by aliens every night
they take her to their ship
and she is used for
****** experimentation
to prepare for an invasion of earth.
the therapist holds her hand
and says never mind dear
I will help you get rid of them
forever in just a short while.
she shouted NO! in dismay.
Can you ask them to come
just once a week
she said sweetly.

Playing in the rain

*a poem
by
Jude Kyrie

Do you remember my love
we were just children back then.
we played in the summer rain.
Dancing in puddles.
Splashing in rubber boots.
I think that's when
I fell in love with you.
I knew even then
we would marry one day.

Remember we always
loved walking in the rain
The olive green days
of our life my love.

Then the sickness came
you tried to hide it from me.
but I knew ...I knew.

Remember that last day
my love.
you asked is it raining
I said yes my love.

Take me outside you said.
Dance with me in the rain
just once more.

Now  when I feel
lonely and sad
I stand in the pouring rain
and can feel you close.
and the gentle pure rain
washes away my tears.

Now and then Magnetism rules.
I remember when we first met
I was pulled by it towards you
you met me half way.
as you were pulled
by its relentless grip.
Then as we stuck together
we became one
Unable to pull apart
from the magnetic force.
All I ever wanted
was there as part of me.
We cant keep
our hands off each other
like children in a toy store
wanting everything they see
that’s us.

I remember back then
We were so young.
I wrote love poems for you.
They were beautiful just like you.
And I wrote them only for you.

I waited at the old railway station.
For your train to arrive from the city.
The noisy trains and ***** station
Went unnoticed when you
Stepped to the platform Your
Bright yellow dress like a sun.

God! I loved you so much.
And it is cruel that I still do.
You threw yourself
into my arms then
and into my heart forever.

You want your freedom now
I do not beg of you to stay.
Blowing flames from the ashes
Of what was once us.

Leave me then
take all we have.
I do not want it anymore.
Make a final journey
to the old railway station.
Board the next train
to the city lights.

I shall remain here forever alone.
Writing beautiful love poems.
Still all for you.
poems that I know
you will never understand.

The Girl who spent heartbeats
By
Jude  Kyrie.

Her currency was heartbeats
She only shopped with time.
She paid for things with seconds
As she waited in a line.

You cannot put heartbeats in a bank.
To save for a rainy day.
You either use them or you lose them.
I guess heartbeat’s are made that way.

She would spend her heartbeats on strangers
As they shared all their troubles and woes.
Because kind hearts are worth more than gold.
And go much further than money goes.

She spent a heap of heartbeats on moments
Visiting old and precious friends.
Who wondered how she was always happy.
With so little money to spend.

But money only buys possessions
While heartbeats buy much more.
They buy  you friends and love and laughter.
And a warm  smile at every door.

It a fact you can’t buy heartbeats
When you have used them they are gone
So spend your heartbeats wisely
For one day you will have none.

Neither one of them knew when the rivalry began. It was certainly in their infancy.
Rachel Huntington was twenty  a star scholar at Oxford university.
Matthew fotheringham was the same age also a star scholar  
They excelled in the study of English literature having read all of the aincent and modern classics in high school.
It was known that saint Hilda's college at Oxford regarded Rachel as  the most  gifted student they had seen for years.
In his group the same was said for Matthew.
They shared the same advanced literature class and the tension between then was palatable.
She would put forward a proposition on Shakespeare repeated usage of
Iambic pentameter.
And Matthew would destroy her concept with a detailed analysis of his works
Have you been  cribbing with Cole's notes he would add in disdain.
Rebecca hated him calling him insufferably conceited and a total buffoon.
He once went to her dorm to pick up an ancient script she had borrowed from the library the only copy.
He phoned from the hall shall I come up to your room
And pick it up.
Rachel shouted No!
I will bring it down to you.
You are never to come up to my dorm.
It's not that I wouldn't allow a man up here
But if anyone were to see you leaving and got the wrong idea.
I don't want them to think I have no taste and low standards in boyfriends.
And that's how it went on.

Then the literature guilds competition had been announced
Schoolers from all over Europe were to present their essays of no less than 25 thousand words and the winner would receive 25 thousand guineas but more importantly that opened the door to the chairs of literature all through the continent.

The rivalry escalation was at fever pitch.
Matthew worked  75. Hour weeks on his essay
Rachelle kept up with him never wasting a single moment.
The class bookmaker has had narrow odds on the winner it one of these two.

They went to the presentation hall and entered the book sized essays sealed in manilla envelopes
Rachel quipped you don't have a chance you couldn't copy mine.
Matthew said I hope they don't use the new plagiarism software you have probably stole yours from the internet.
I already have made plans for my winnings he bragged.
What a good plated pocket protector and  a girl friend you just add air too.
Matthew was hurt
Particularly at the insult that he had a blow up plastic girlfriend.
He remembered humor was the best defence it showed they could not hurt you.
I only bought her for driving on the diamond lanes on the highway.
Anyhoo nothing happened between us until that last night of term
When we drank too much wine.
Rachel walked off in disgust
As he yelled so all could here
She's better in bed than you will ever be .

It was two weeks to the announcement of the contest winners.
No use worrying about it Matthew said
He went for a long evening stroll by the river.
As he turned on the river bend he saw Rachel
She was crying say beneath a huge willow tree.

For once he did not have a smart quip or an insult.
He walked to her and sat down next to her.
Why are you weeping Rachel he asked gently.
She had never ever heard his voice so soft.
My father died last night. She sobbed.
It occurred to Matthew he knew nothing of her life.
I am so sorry what happened
He was the clergyman at Saint Monica's Anglican Church
He had cancer and never let me know.
It had taken all his savings to get me through Oxford.
And he did not want me to lose focus.
Then she wept freely
Mathew held her close to him she wept on his his shoulder
His fingers gentle touched her reddish suborn hair.
It was soft she smelt of lavender soap it was nice.
I ...I have to go to Stowe  on the wold tomorrow for the funeral.
I shall take you there
Do you have a car she asked.
Yes I have a twenty year old MG convertible. My dad bought me when I got into Oxford.
It was arranged he picked her up and off to the funeral they went .
He never felt as comfortable or comforting in all his life.
He was seeing her in a new light after all the stupid years.
They arrived at the old vicarage
Mrs Evans the housekeeper hugged them both
It's about time you got your pretty nose out of those old dusty books
And got yourself a boyfriend.
The weird part was neither one of them corrected Mrs Evans.

The funeral took place
And they set back along the old country roads to the university.
They talked about literature art posts and writers.
Then the old engine conked out.
Miles from anywhere
You need to go get petrol she said.
But there's no station between her and Oxford
The phone signal was not reaching them.
We have to sleep in the car for the night.
Rachel said as long as you don't get any ideas.
You are not my type.
He was going to tell her she was his type but said nothing.
It was freezing in the night Rachel was shivering
He took off his coat and jacket and put them over her in the back seat
As he shivered frozen in the front seat.
In the early morning they woke up
She stepped out of the car and stretched
Matthew was on one knee in front of her
What are doing she asked?
What does it look like I am doing ?
I am proposing that you become my wife.
Never! never! never !
After all the insults you have laid upon me.
Well I'm I'm sorry
Not good enough she shouted.

Do you have the guts to make a get with me Matthew asked.?
Her reddish hair answered the challenge
Just try me.
OK if I  win the award you will become my wife.he said.
If I  win you get lost and marry the blow up lady.she countered.
Well the challenge was a tough one
If she did not accept it it was saying he was smarter than her and she knew it.
If she accepted it was the opposite.
OK you have a deal.

A week later Matthew was working in the library
The prize winners are being posted on the notice board.
He felt a gasp in his chest
As he reached the crowd of students he saw Rachel
She even had a trace of make-up on she was now
Getting to look beautiful to him.
Good luck rachel he whispered I hope you win.
She knew he meant it but she remembered the wager.
She said softly I hope it's you that wins Mathew.
A young woman rushed out of the crowd
Rachelle you won you won.
Mathews heart sank
Congratulations Rachel I am so happy for you.
She felt a tear selling in her eye
Mathew where are you going
You told me to go And marry my send away lady that you just add air too
If I lost the bet you won Rachel.
And her heart sank in her chest.
Then the young woman saw him
Matthew congratulations you won.
She showed him a copy of the winners notice.
It had a note
In all the years of the competition we have never had two such magnificent essays
The adjudicator's were unable to mark one better than the other
We have shared the prize to two winners for the very first time.
Rachel held Mathew code and kissed him fully and hard. Not caring who was watching. He kissed her back
The crowd were astonished their tied was legendary at Oxford.


Two years later.
Matthew strolled in the park with the twins and his beloved wife Rachel.
She had married him a week after the award ceremony at Oxford.
It was said in the coffee room that the university had never had two professors as much in love as them they were now teaching in the English department and we're already in competition for their tenure.
But they never spent a moment appart.

He picked up the twins and shouted his love for Rachel on the top of his voice.
The evening breeze picks up the perfume of the fallen leaves.
Rachel smiled at him and whispered softly I love you too dearest.
She felt him slip into that private room in her heart that she always saved for her soulmate
As he entered the room holding their two babies.
She locked the door behind him with the only key that existed.
And then she threw  it into the dense woodlands of Oxfordshire
Never to found again.

At my piano again
sleep unattainable
in this deluge of my memories.
Silence of the early hours
suiting my maudlin mood.
I am lost inside old thoughts of you..
Only of you.
Memories that cannot sleep call me
to share them one more time.

I play piano in the darkened room.
Only illuminated by
the candlelight of a bright moon.
What else can be my companion?
I find Chopin again his beautiful
Nocturne plays sweetly.

My fingertips softly caressing the keys
As they once did your skin.
I think he was in my state of heart
when he wrote this lovely reprise
it is so bittersweet.
How else could it touch my soul so?

As my eyes close
half in the bliss of sleep.
I see us together once again.
Not as the lifetime companions
But back across the faded years.
in the blooming May time of your life.

I feel you next to me
like a half forgotten tune
that is playing in my head.
Years pass that are as countless
as the blowing autumn leaves.

It is springtime.
You are wearing
your lovely blue gown.
So beautiful.
So much what I needed.

And I walk to you shyly.
Noticing your flicker of a smile.
The first words you shared with me.
Do you like Chopin sir?.
I replied
I love Chopin My lady.

Then we danced for a lifetime.
And I know again that somewhere
In a distant place beyond the clouds
far beyond my reach.
Where night and pain do not exist.
Your fingertips are pressed
against a faraway window pane.
And my music is playing
in your heart

He said to her after making love.
I want to skydive from a plane.
I want to. Paraglide from a cliff top.
I want to climb a sheer rock face.
I want to take a diving Bell
to the deepest part of the ocean.
She held him close to her
Her softness exquisite and lovely.
She said to him
If you want to do something
that terrifies you to the core.
Why don’t you marry me?

The velvet touch


I was so in love with you.
When you made love to me
I would write invisible
love letters on your skin.
poetry on your lips
and my name on your fingertips.

I loved how you were selfconscious
You complained your teeth were not
white enough.
but I would write love poems
about the warmth
that fell from your smile
like purest sunlight.
I could rest in your smile
for hours.

I loved your eyes
deep and dark
like drowning pools.
I would keep my eyes open
as we kissed
to look into heaven
just for a moment.

I loved your gentleness
how you touched me so softly
as though I would break
like a fragile eggshell.

What I did not know
was you were a writer as well
and when you left
you had written poetry
all over my body
but it was not written
with your fingertips
but indellibly
like the needle
of a tatoo artist.

And even when I just think
of of letting you go from my heart
I read one of the poems
you wrote on my skin.
and my fragile eggshell heart
is shattered and crushed
by someone with a velvet touch.

Find me a place where the city ends
In a line where the meadow begins
And the flowers grow sweet and wild
And the sunlight falls on every child
And all night the songbirds sing.
To soften the moons bloom on the wind

Cross from the city with ***** smoke stacks
and the pavement wind’s without end.
Past all the cracks where dandelions grow.
To the place where the pace of all is slow.
We shall walk where the wildflower and wildlife go.
In the place where the city ends

Yes we shall walk where the pace of all is slow
To where the sounds of children’s laughter goes
For in their innocence they surely know.
The place where the city ends.

Lifelines

We briefly touched hands today.
For the very last time as lovers.
Familiar and full of old feelings.
My finger tracing your lifeline.
Swirling here and there
like our time did together,

It reaches a fork in the lifeline
like we have.
You take one path
I the other.

Even as we part
I feel old warm
glows from before.
When need want and passion
burned brightly.

Your hand speaks to my fingertips
All the words we no longer can say.
left now only with empty silence.

I look at our time
a small part of your long lifeline.
It was so full
of promises and passion.
Now just distant echoes
from the past.

Unable to return to the beginning
I am left alone once more
With only my memories of you.
And all our yesterdays.

A Love Poem
From
Jude Kyrie

They walked on the snow covered city sidewalk.
An old couple with slowing gait and unsure of their foothold.
He stopped under the streetlamp
holding her gently close to his heart.

Looking into her gray eyes still beautiful
untouched by the ravages of time
from so many long years.
Do you remember, my love?
You smiled at me here so long ago.
so very long ago under this very lamp.

Her face lightened a smile flickered
“yes, my darling I remember”.
The years fell away as leaves in the fall
and the icy world melted
in their moment of tender warmth.

He pulled her close to him.
Her body no longer old and frail.
He felt the strong woman inside her
the one he had loved forever.

I think of you in my dreams he whispered
join me in them my love.
You are wearing a summer dress
holding the single white rose
I brought for you.

The music in the café plays a waltz.
It swells and halts and ladies
sit in red gilded chairs sipping coffee.
The summer breezes the fragrance
of love into this room

Your smile once again enraptures my heart.
Your eyes darken as they find mine,
filling me with yet unfulfilled promises.
We are drowning in the melody about us
the music takes our hearts and
shines them as the sunlight on dewdrops.
Just the single pure white rose
cupped in your hands.

She smiled at the old memory
Her visions sharing his dream.
Even after this lifetime together.

"It is strange how one day
and a single white rose
can make lifetime lovers
from just friends."
she whispered.

my poetry has become
a seagulls cry
my soul is adrift
on a becalmed sea.
This sailors wife
knitted his death
into his sweater.
the sea shall swallow me
with its infinite greed.
The cloudless sky
will take my poems
and recite them
from a place on high.
the verses melt
to a single sound.
my poetry has become
a seagulls cry.

A single White Rose

They walked on the snow covered city sidewalk
An old couple slowly gaited and unsure of their foothold.
He stopped under the the old streetlamp
holding her gently to him in an embrace.
Looking into her grey eyes still beautiful
untouched by the ravages of time.
Do you remember? my love.
You smiled at me here so long ago.
so very long ago under this very lamp.
Her face lightened a smile flickered
“yes my darling I remember”.
The years fell as leaves in the fall
and the icy world melted
in their moment of warmth.
He pulled her closer to him
Her body no longer old and frail
He felt the great woman inside her
the one he had loved forever.
I think of you in my dreams join me my love.
she smiled as he drifted to bygone years.
You are wearing a summer dress
holding a single white rose I brought you.
The music in the café plays a waltz.
It swells and halts and ladies
sit in red gilded chairs sipping coffee.
The summer breeze
of love blows into this room
Your smile again enraptures my heart.
Your eyes darken as they find mine,
filling me with yet unfulfilled promises.
We are drowning in the melody about us
the music takes our hearts and
shines them as the sunlight.
Just the single pure white rose
cupped in your hands.
She smiled in memory
Her visions sharing his

even after this lifetime together.
"It is strange how one day
and a single white rose
can make lifetime lovers
from just friends."
she whispered.

A long long time ago way
before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..
He was a bit of a pacifist
live and let live was his way.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
on his belly lay on the planes belly.

At the american airbase
in the UK he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing fixer and developer.
working alongside each other
in the dark.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.

When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a darkroom by hand
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship.
And found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him
and she accepted.

when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note in his handwriting
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark.
But I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.

A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands.
And also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.

I cleared out grandmas house the other day.
I found grandmas note that was
pinned on the darkroom door
she kept it in her souvenir box..
she had passed a way a few weeks ago.
And I was moved to tell this story.

So follow the light Grandma love.
look for a big man with a crooked smile
and big hands hes waiting for you.

Father’s advice to son
(Sorry Mr. Hemingway)

Never trust a lawyer
Or a money lender too
Read fine print in every contract
Never buy it used but only new
Don’t sign up for the army
Only marry one good wife
Never write on Facebook
It will come back and ruin your life
Always despise the latest war
Only seek out  sweet girls with a smile.
Never buy or rent a *****
Never trust a gambler
He will steal your very last cent
Your landlord will evict you
Cos you can’t the rent.
So lead a good and wholesome life
And outlive all and every friend
See them all in the great beyond
When you’re prosperous old life will end.

Moody Blue

Resting and tired and sleep just flows
That’s not where Mood Indigo goes
If at night he visits you
Get ready to be drowned in moody blue

When dreams are full and overflow
Almost there Mood Indigo knows
He is in charge for an hour or two
Get ready to be drowned in moody blue

Regrets come visit they will not go
He dumps them on you Mood Indigo
The pain it bores into the heart of you
Just drowning in moody blue

I see her face how did he know?
It was all me that made her go
Now just tears the whole night through
I am drowning alone in moody blue

I remember back then
We were so young.
I wrote love poems for you.
They were beautiful just like you.
And I wrote them only for you.

I waited at the old railway station.
For your train to arrive from the city.
The noisy trains and ***** station
Went unnoticed when you
Stepped to the platform Your
Bright yellow dress like a sun.

God! I loved you so much.
And it is cruel that I still do.
You threw yourself
into my arms then
and into my heart forever.

You want your freedom now
I do not beg of you to stay.
Blowing flames from the ashes
Of what was once us.

Leave me then
take all we have.
I do not want it anymore.
Make a final journey
to the old railway station.
Board the next train
to the city lights.

I shall remain here forever alone.
Writing beautiful love poems.
Still all for you.
poems that I know
you will never understand.

The odd thing was
she did not cry.
not once that year.
I remember the army chaplain
standing in her doorway.
Knowing at once the sad news.
Her son was on active duty
overseas with the Marines.

That summer she worked
tirelessly in her garden.
Day after day
from dawn to last light.
but not a single tear.

Transplanting pruning digging
her shears like a cicada in August..
I do not think
I have ever seen as much beauty.
Flowers everywhere
the whole garden an explosion
of the brightest colors.
but not one teardrop.

Roses hollyhocks hydrangeas
filled the air with their fragrance.
And on the fruit trees
lantern shaped blossoms hung
downwards to earth.
drifting in the breezes.
Falling like the tears
she could not cry.

Grandpa

*Grandpa is in his
Second year of dementia
He has not recognized Grandma
for over a year.
but in the summer
for the past three months
he has come in from the garden
holding a small bouquet of flowers
cut from the flower beds he loved.
He falls on one knee
before grandma and says softly
you are the most beautiful
woman I have ever seen
please run away with me
and become my wife.
she touches his silvered hair
softly and whispers
I am your wife honey.
It's a delight to see his
old lost face light up
as the biggest smile
covers it.

Brilliant Black



*Inside a dark room
Inside a locked box
A faded rose
A creased photograph.
A lock of hair
Brilliant black

Inside a dark room
Inside a locked box
An empty bottle of perfume
A  lipstick tube
A woolen glove
Brilliant black

Inside a dark room
Inside a locked box
A babies ******
A teething ring
all my tears.
A broken heart.
Brilliant black.

If you go away as I know you will.
Go on a summer day when the air is still
And the sun is warm and the flowers shine
And the world is sweet like summer wine.

If you go away as I know you will.
Leave when the nightbird's song is loud and shrill
And there's no chance of rain in an azure sky.
And the summer breezes cry goodbye.

If you go away las I know you will.
And the futures filled with only time to ****
It will be kinder losing you on an afternoon
When the world is sweet and the flowers bloom.

If you go away.........

If you go away..........

If you go away..........

Wild and lovely in the night
eyes on fire burning bright.
What power unseen created her
to walk among the mortals here

In what volcano's burning pyre
did her maker find her raging fire
the flames that glow deep inside
the light within her shining eyes

What powers beyond this land
exist inside his mighty hands.
With softness sweet feminine beguile
What mortal hand dare touch such style

Falling deep into her Wicca light
her skin so soft and winter white
when heavens chorus filled his ears
When his creation brought him tears

Were tears from the beauty he did see
when with his hands he created thee

Stella

She awoke up on a bench in times square
She tried to remember who she was but nothing no name or family nothing.
Panicking she looked for a wallet or purse something with a clue to her ID.
She could say words in English but no familiar memories.
A beer truck passed by it had big advert even the side for the beer it contains
It said STELLA ARTOIS she needed a name she would use Stella as hers until she remembered her own.

A man came up to her and said you alright lady
you been sat there all night.
Err ...yes I think so I just can't remember anything
Nothing? he said  she shook her head.i have no ID nothing in my my pockets and no purse.
I see he said do you want me to take you to the hospital or police.
Just the mention of police brought a resounding NO not the police.
He was handsome and kind
he said look I can take you to my place if you like.
It's just two blocks walk.
Perhaps after you eat and rest you will remember
I can't leave a pretty lady like you out here.
She looked into his kind face
he was about thirty five handsome and well dressed
with piercing blue eyes.
She said would you mind I am so hungry and tired.
He took her arm gently and they walked to his apartment.
Then she looked into his bathroom mirror
her face was pretty her hair neatly styled
and dark red lipstick and grey eyes
with carefully applied eyeshadow she was pretty if not beautiful
yet she was a stanger to her.
She told him to call her Stella he introduced himself as Adam.
She slept all night
after her fed her a large plate of spaghetti with meat ***** it was so good. she drank a glass  of wine and they talked four a while.
He said he was divorced and single and if she liked she could stay at his place until her memory came back and she went home again.
The mention of home scared her she told him.
Home and police sent shivers.
Six weeks turned into three months and nothing changed.
Well almost nothing he fell in love with her.
He did not tell her of course
she was way too pretty for him out of his league really.
But she liked him that's for sure
she even kissed his cheek
when he took her shopping
and bought her several dresses and a coat.
It was not the kiss  he craved from her but still a kiss.
They walked together in the city
went to the theatre and movies
and took drives out of the city
to have a picnic lunch or eat at a wayside cafe.
He did not remember feeling as happy ever.
It was Christmas tide they watched
the tree being lit in the city it was beautiful
and he took her to watch the christmas show at radio city.
She was watching the leggy showgirls
and she said I know this place I am  remembering it.
His heart sank what if she remembered and then the biggie
What if she had to go home and leave him he was desolate.

But he smiled and said that's a good sign stella it's coming back.
She went back to the radio city the next day and waited at the stage entrance a group of pretty showgirls arrived for practice.
One came over to her Janie she said? Stella looked up and half knew the girl.
They are looking for you honey everywhere
Who she said I don't remember
Your husband and the police
she gave her her name Janie Evans.
She told her where she lived
she was a dance choreographer at the radio city.

She went home to her own place taking a cab
It was an apartment in a old walk up
She started to remember
fear caught her chest as she knocked on the door.
A big man answered he was angry looking.
Well well lookie who's  here it's back.
A drunken woman was in the room in her bra and pants.
Who's this she yelled it's just a ***** a  I married he sneered.
Who have you been ******* ***** he yelled.
You gone Nine ******* months without a word.
She did not see the fist as it hit her face.
Blood flowed from her nose
she fell and he kicked her in her ribs.
Then threw her down two flights of stairs
She lay at the bottom a woman screamed as the Brutish man came down the stairs to continue her beating.
A young policeman heard the scream
and went inside the man was kicking the prostrate lady in the ribs.
He drew his weapon and shouted
stand back but the man drew his boot back
and went to kick her head a deadly blow.
He shot twice the first a flesh wound in his arm
the second passed through his heart
he fell on the floor in a heap
he had hit his wife for the very last time.

She was in a coma at the hospital for six days
Her face bandaged she had four broken ribs a dislocated shoulder and a broken arm and leg.
When she awoke the room was empty she thought where am I but it all flooded back in waves she had been late from work he was angry where you been you ******* ***** he hit her and she fell back banging her head on the wall
Then she ran and ran not even picking up the purse on the table.
Then the park bench in times square
the truck Stella Artois ….Stella.
And Adam
oh her Adam her gentle friend she loved him so much.
Then she saw him he had sat with her on vigil all night every day since he phoned all the hospital in new York city and found her when she did not come home.
He had tears in his eyes and finally said what was overflowing in his sweet heart. Oh Stella thank God I have prayed for you made deals with God to save you. I love you honey
She looked into his beautiful eyes and saw all the love that heaven can bestow on one heart. I love you too my darling my sweet adam.

A year later

They went for the lighting of the Christmas tree now a new York tradition for them.
Adam  held his beloved  wife
close to him no one could ever hurt a single hair
on her head ever again.
She felt protected and loved.
Then as the first snowflakes fell in New York
Silent night was sang beautifully by a children's choir.
the magical Christmas  lights too many to count lit up the sky.
Their baby girl stirred in her stroller
...Stella... Janie cried to her little girl
look at the beautiful tree

And way way above them a wise old moon looked down on the old city
And added another beautiful love story with a happy ending
to its everlasting collection.*that it kept hidden deep inside his tender heart

She kept a list of her lovers
in her desk drawer
the one that locked.
The one that held her secrets.

The list totaled seventeen.
Not bad she rationalised.
For a forty year old woman
divorced for three years.

she had watched tv dramas
women in her position
had barhopped to fifty lovers
in a year.
but not her.

They ranged from
lovers she needed
lovers she wanted
to lovers who
could not pass from
one night to the other.

But the new neighbor
was different.
he had a daughter
twelve or so.
She had dropped a bag
of groceries the
eggs splatterered
he held her close
saying shushhh honey
its ok.
kissing her hair
Keeping her safe
and comforted.

Her ex never did that.
An hour later he appeared
with two more
bags of grocery.

That night She felt him watching
her slip into her pool.
She felt his eyes on her.
He appeared with
a bottle of wine.
Can I join you he asked?
As he took his clothes off
and sat in the pool.
Only if you dont take this
the wrong way she smiled.

He slipped naked
in the blue water.
He looked fit and tanned.
As he slipped out of the water
he looked into her eyes
and said you have
beautiful breast.

Blushing she closed her robe.
Do you get lonely he asked.?
Yes sometimes.
I do too he whispered.
Are you lonely now
Yes she said.

three years later

They laughed as
their little baby girl
joined the other children
in the pool.

Swimming for the first time
her new baby laughed.
She looked at him holding
the child so safe,
He was so safe so warm.
So much what she needed.

He reached for her hand.
she felt his solid grip.
I love you my sweetheart
he said.
she smiled
and said back
not as much as I love you honey.

As he picked up their litte girl
she joined in
I love you too
daddy she whispered.

As a tear of joy
flowed softly
down her face.

Truck Stops


*All my days the load is heavy
Far too hard to carry home.
along life's highways looking steady
Out of gas and all alone.
Got to find me a Truck
stop on this highway.
Rest this load and travel home,
take rest from the endless distance.
In the night a light is burning
In the night calling my name.
Give me warmth and comfort.
Stop the traveling all alone
I need a life with no more trucking
Not tired and weary to the bone.
I need her loving soft and gentle
Need a place to call my own.
Until then life's a line
of roadside truck stops
Neon signs shining bright
Just a place to park my burdens
cloudy coffee in the night

The man with a crooked smile and big hands

A long long time ago way
before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..
He was a bit of a pacifist
live and let live was his way.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
on his belly lay on the planes belly.

At the american airbase
in the UK he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing fixer and developer.
working alongside each other
in the dark.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.

When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a darkroom by hand
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship.
And found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him
and she accepted.

when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note in his handwriting
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark.
But I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.

A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands.
And also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.

I cleared out grandmas house the other day.
I found grandmas note that was
pinned on the darkroom door
she kept it in her souvenir box..
she had passed a way a few weeks ago.
And I was moved to tell this story.

So follow the light Grandma love.
look for a big man with a crooked smile
and big hands hes waiting for you.


I miss you Darling
love
Jude

I need to write
you a love poem.
Not with
chocolates and roses.
But with firey passions
and intensity.

So intense you
Will need to sit down
as you read it.
So strong it burns
with passions you crave.
Causing your face to blush
In secret sinful thoughts.
Thoughts that slow
the time to a crawl
Before you will
share your bed
with me once more.

Words that tear
at your clothes
like an ardent lover.
Words that will
leave us as naked
as newborns.
Burning in fires
that are as
old as time itself.

You will be standing
at the edge
of a pit of flame
so dangerous we will
hold each other
in hard embrace.
So that we do not
fall into its
raging inferno.

Old Trains

I remember back then
We were so young.
I wrote love poems for you.
They were beautiful just like you.
And I wrote them only for you.

I waited at the old railway station.
For your train to arrive from the city.
The noisy trains and ***** station
Went unnoticed when you
Stepped to the platform Your
Bright yellow dress like a sun.

God! I loved you so much.
And it is cruel that I still do.
You threw yourself
into my arms then
and into my heart forever.

You want your freedom now
I do not beg of you to stay.
Blowing flames from the ashes
Of what was once us.

Leave me then
take all we have.
I do not want it anymore.
Make a final journey
to the old railway station.
Board the next train
to the city lights.

I shall remain here forever alone.
Writing beautiful love poems.
Still all for you.
poems that I know
you will never understand.

There will always be Paris

Written For The City I love
Jude Kyrie

*There is smoke in the air tonight.
In the old city that has seen many
wars and tribulations.
But smoke clears
those left will move on.

I do not want to
remember Paris like this.
It is so easy to do.
In the cold sadness.
I want to see the sprinbgtime
on the banks of the Seine
with lovers kissing
as the blossoms appear.

I want to see the artist
creating the beauty of the old city
and its lovely ladies.
I want to hear
Edith Piaf singing
La Vie En Rose
as only she can sing it.
With her heart full of passion
and love for the people of the city
pinned to her sleeve.

I want to be young again
and fall in love
with a beautiful french girl
her kisses sweet and tender
her heart carefree.

Tonight my tears flow like rainfall.
But it cannot last
not with Paris.
Not with its life blood
spilled on the streets.

I love her too much
and I will return
For tears are not the way
for us to say goodbye.

Apple Crumble

She was about six.
That age of endless questions.
Here it came the biggie.
Mommy where did I come from?

Do I make this a biology lesson
Full of penises and ******'s.
Or does she deserve the hard truth.?
I rationalize the truth is always better.
So after a deep breath
I gave it to her.

You come from the snows of the
Canadian Rockies.
Cold endless winter days and nights
when I ached for your father.
Love on the bed and kitchen table.
Underwear strewn about the house.
Burning in fires that needed quenching.
Even as I made apple crumble in the kitchen.

Her eyes looked at me quizzically.
Demanding a better answer from me.
She said
Mom do babies come from apple crumble.
I said yes honey
from apple crumble.

how difficult the memory
of when you graced my eyes
the feeling of belonging
the promise of future sighs

the downy soft mantle
covered me with you
the rest of life was silent
as your eyes turned the sky
to blue.

The time ticked by so slowly
with children laughter and love
the nighttime filled with tenderness
the blessings from above

Beatitudes.. ( Beautiful Attitudes )

The meek shall inherit the earth.
but not the mineral rights.

Jude 2015

Colliding Comets

We collided like comets.
Travelling aimlessly in space.
Following the elliptical orbits
of forever.

When we hit the heat
Was like a furnace.
Energy collected from infinity
Released in a blinding flash.

Our masses coalesced
We now travel as one
deflected into
an unknown orbit.
But no longer alone.

Exploring space and time
finding new
wonders together.
until we return again
in a thousand years