stay the night

I feel as though
the oceans high above me
there's silence in my room
where can the love be.

stay the night
say that you love me
stay the night
Stay here and love me.
I need to feel someone
here to need me
stay the night
don't go away

The ticking clock is no companion
just waiting for the telephone to sigh.
if you stay with me tonight
and love me till the morning
then
maybe we won't ever say goodbye.
stay the night
don't ever leave me.

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

it was the cornucopia of stars
that I first noticed.
Bathing  in the purest light beams
that had travelled
from the edge of time.

Then I saw your face.
Morning light faded
all the stars in the heavens.
But you remained forever.
Never again to open my eyes
without you in my heart.

I do not understand
the meaning of love.
I do not want to know.
All I need is you.
Only you.

To be part of me.
To feel the burning inside
Of your passion and desire.
To not know
where you end
and I begin.

I wear your morning kiss
on my forehead
like a stigmata.
A visible wound.
That only you can heal.

It was the cornucopia of stars
That I first noticed.
Bathing  in purest light beams
That had travelled
from the edge of time.

Then I saw your face
Morning light faded all stars
But you remained  forever
Never again to open my eyes
Without you in my heart.

I do not understand
the meaning of love
I do not want to know.
All I need is you
Only you.

To be part of me.
To feel the burning inside
Of your passion and desire.
To not know
Where you end
And I begin.

I wear your goodbye kiss
On my forehead
like a stigmata
A visible wound
That only you can heal.

It was the cornucopia of stars
that I first noticed.
Bathing  in the purest light beams
that had travelled
from the edge of time.

Then I saw your face.
Morning light faded
all the stars in the heavens.
But you remained forever.
Never again to open my eyes
without you in my heart.

I do not understand
the meaning of love.
I do not want to know.
All I need is you.
Only you.

To be part of me.
To feel the burning inside
Of your passion and desire.
To not know
where you end
and I begin.

I wear your morning kiss
on my forehead
like a stigmata.
A visible wound.
That only you can heal

You told me right up front
you would devour me.
that all I would find in you
is pain and anguish.
you warned me
You said
I was a moth
and you were the dancing
flames of a candle.
you told me
not to mistake
your beauty for tenderness.
You whispered run away
I will only bring you ruin.
But I pressed my lips to yours
and in that first kiss
you inhaled my soul.

The train from London to little Ashbury
stopped at the same signal every day.
I always got in the last carriage
it gave me a few extra minutes
to drink the  three cans
of Gin and tonic I had in my purse..
The only other passenger
was a young man
Who was blind
so he could not see me drinking.
We seldom spoke other than
nice day or good morning.
I was feeling guilty because I was
I was thinking how convenient
it was he could not see me drinking.
And now after the divorce two years ago
I had gained weight and looked awful.
I was glad he couldn’t see me anyway.
Not like this.
I had not eaten all day just
Wandered about the city
Drank in Hyde Park by the serpentine
and meandered through the bookstores.
I had lost my job six months previously
after coming back late and drunk
from a three hour lunch.
But I still kept going to the city
on the same train every day.
As though it would like
I was still useful for something
other than drinking.
I was tipsy I know it
I fell from the train at the station
and cut my knee.
The Blind man found my arm
he lifted me up
and said Are you all right?
I lied and said yes I will be fine.
But he insisted on getting me a cab
and taking me home.
I let him in my small flat and he bandaged
my knee and sat with me.
He chatted about everything
he was really interesting.
He was blinded as a child
looking at the eclipse.
through binoculars.
He was so sweet and gentle.
He softly asked me why I drank so much.
I glowed red how did you know I asked.?
He said he could hear and smell the *****.
I told him everything
the divorce my drinking my job.
He held me as I sobbed on his shoulder.
You are too beautiful to be so sad he said.
How can you tell what I look like I sobbed.
I can feel your beauty inside you
Its stunning he said.
He stayed with me overnight.
I did not drink.
And the next morning
I felt clear and sober
For the first time in forever.
He fixed breakfast.
He came back the next night
and I let him in.

A year later

I have not drank in a year
I feel it would be
cheating on my husband.
we got married a month ago
I lost 35 pounds
and I look like I used to.
The weight will be coming back though
Our new baby is due in seven months
and her Daddy needs me clean and sober
to describe her every passing achievement.
I love him so much
he says I am his eyes
I say he is my heart.

Suffer Little children

*~~Tears fall down
From the orange skies
Hungry faces in the town
Weep in unison from dead eyes
Not enough to spread around
The winter chills a flower dies
Charity only fools you
Lost children singing halleluiah

Frosty cold ices the street
The homeless shuffle like the dead
Lost and lonely cry for heat
Hungry children weep for bread
Ragged souls with unshod feet
Where are the ones that rule you
The children reaching out for love
Pray for help to god above
Weeping angels singing Hallelujah

Death falls on us its only time
Lost souls are crying for your hands
Children like a half forgotten rhyme
Wander forever in dark lands
The heated deserts with bleached bones
With no winds there to cool you
Children pray to Angels bring us home
Nothing left but Hallelujah

Summer Rain

It is now almost four months.
Fourteen weeks and three days
to be exact.
The warm cleansing
rains of summer
Wash your taste
from my lips.
Almost as if you had
never touched them .

As if the purity of the  salty
sea rain could wash
you away completely.
Leaving nothing of you.
Except perhaps for the
tiniest of tears falling
from my eyelashes

Summer Rain

*It is now almost four months
since you left me.
Fourteen weeks and three days
to be exact.
Sitting by the edge of the ocean.
The warm cleansing
rains of summer
Wash your taste
from my lips.
Almost as if you had
never touched them .

As if the purity of the  salty
sea rain could wash
you away completely.
Leaving nothing left of you.
Except perhaps for the
tiniest of tears falling
from my eyelashes.

I open my bedroom window
To answer the noise that is
Crashing against it.
The wild waves of the ocean
flooded into my room.
Over the stone sill
Onto the stains of my life
All over the floor.
It washes the memories from my walls
Stealing all my secrets.
It drowns the ghost of my past
And steals their secrets too.
I feel it rising in my bed
Finding my mouth filling me
With its salty knowledge
Drowning me in its tides.
It comes to help me in my loneliness.
Now I feel my lungs bursting
It swallows the bloom of the moon.
It eats everything.
The darkness eats the light
Now I am consumed
But at least
I am not alone.

As sunday evening falls
a whispering sweet voice is haunting me.
Returning me to days gone by
as I was a boy.
Sitting in the parlor of my childhood.
The piano plays a hymn of Sunday comfort.
My mother’s small feet
softly pressing the pedals.
Her long hard working fingers
delicate upon the keys.
The children of my parents union
sing as a choir.
Sitting in my armchair
I am transported to childhood
Aching to see once more
her face so beautiful to me.
Oh mom!
Oh please play it once more!
But my childhood is past
my manhood in its place.
Drawn by the indelible memories
of time long passed.
I weep like a child to go back

Today is the day of rest.
The Sunday repose.
But we shall be busy
my lover and I.
We shall cook together
a gourmet meal
of music and romance.
lie outside in the
shade of a linden tree
spread out on blankets
drinking the heady nectar's
ot the summer wine.
We shall eat too much
drink thirstily of the wine.
to fulfill our spirits
need for rebirth and tranquility.
The songs we will sing
to natures soft anthems
will be sweet and gentle.
When we return
Renewed and new
to our home.
The evening shadows
will fold over our
nestled entangled bodies
as we are centered and fulfilled
once more.

Down beyond the woodland
The magic setting golden sun
On the still lakes shining waters
ts glowing corona hung

Magenta clouds spread like curtains
as they passed the lighted sky
I could almost hear them rustle
as the daylight bid goodbye

The gentle whispered breezes
in the pine trees by the shore
Sang a song of nature’s anthem
I would remember for evermore

A hanging reverent silence
That no creature dared to break
In each soul made a painting
Of that sunset on the lake.

In beauty so transcending
As the water lapped my feet
Spoke beauty in a language
That I had no need to speak

Then under the cloak of evening
Played a softened lullaby
Sleepy splashing of the wavelets
with a dreamy darkened sky.

If I lived forever
This vision will awake.
Memory will leave me never
Of that sunset on the lake -

Sunset On The Lake
Down beyond the woodland
The magic setting golden sun
On the still lakes shining waters
its glowing corona hung

Magenta clouds spread like curtains
as they passed the lighted sky
I could almost hear them rustle
as the daylight bid goodbye

The gentle whispered breezes
in the pine trees by the shore
Sang a song of nature’s anthem
I would remember for evermore

A hanging reverent silence
That no creature dared to break
In each soul made a painting
Of that sunset on the lake.

In beauty so transcending
As the water lapped my feet
Spoke beauty in a language
That I had no need to speak

Then under the cloak of evening
Played a softened lullaby
Sleepy splashing of the wavelets
with a dreamy darkened sky.

If I lived forever
This vision will awake.
Memory will leave me never
Of that sunset on the lake

You left me here broken
chopped in pieces.
like an axe murderer.
I need fixing
putting the pieces
of me back together.
Piece by blooded piece
I glue the bits in place.
this glue called
distance and time
really works.
If you look at me now.
I seem to be as good as new.
except for this small
bag of bits and pieces.
try as I may
they will not stay
glued .
it is my heart.

I want to dance
in my memories,
put on a latin tune
sway with old lovers.
live again their joy
their passion
all of the good times.
Put aside
all of the sadness.
celibrate their being
a part of me.
Even the unfaithful Ones
that made love to anyone.
Bring back your memory
drown me in the passions
of my life.

In the velvet late summer night
The seine river is a dark mirror.
Wearing her jewels of reflected stars
on her satin surface.
Shimmering in her beauty
How often we walked the pathways
ofthese waters
Stopping to embrace and kiss
under the flowering trees of Paris.
The petals falling ,falling ,falling
As a breeze carried from the old city.
Raining its gaudy blossoms upon us
Tangling in your long soft hair.
Paris full of fragrance and life and joy.
Filled our lungs with youth and passion.
Above us the milky stars
splashed lights
That reflected in your dark eyes.
Like sprites on a pool of water.
As we reached my small studio.
You shook loose your hair
Releasing the fragrant blossoms
onto our bed as we devoured
The sweet bird of our youth.

This dinner party is formal
like all the ladies
I am wearing my gown
my invite was  for me
and plus  one.
but its just me here.
all the gentlemen
are in tuxedos.
the man seated to my right
is deliciously, attractive.
I nightdream of him
unfastening my gown
and drowning me
in his  wickedness.
The heady fragrance  
of his  cologne, adds
to the dream.
I wonder over the hum
of voices in the room.
is he the one I have
searched for for so long
the one I know is out there
in the big somewhere.
Our glasses clink in toast.
he bites sensuously into a
fresh summer strawberry.
its heavenly juices
leaving thier sweetest fragrane
onto his tongue.
He smiles at me
his eyes glancing
at my cleavage.
I feel like a spider
tempting him into my web.
The bait has been swallowed.
I smile back at him.
I wonder if he will taste
of strawberries later
when I loosen my hair
from its tight french roll.

Table 12
By
Jude Kyrie

*The old cafe has not changed.
Only you have
even I am just  the same.
You tell me you are getting married.
I stop hearing your words.
Instead watching the movement
of your crimson lips.
The ones I had longed
to press to mine forever.
The silence settles in my ears.
Yet a crescendo of thoughts
explode Inside my head.
Why did I never ask you
for that kiss?
The one that would have
stolen your heart for always..
The waitress passes by
with steaming coffee
to faceless people.
Your eyes light as stars
as  you tell me
where you will live.
How you met.
How much you love him.
You talk of other things
as friends do.
I bury my grief
in my silent heart.
The last touch of your fingers
More than farewell.
But a last goodbye

Take Me Back

Do you remember
when we were teens Darlin.
Call a strong sea wind
to blow away the foggy hazy years.
I see us now clearly it’s us my love.
We are lay beneath the oak tree in the park.
That summer day when school had finished.
We are drinking cheap wine
right from the green bottle.
I am rolling a joint.
We get high and a little drunk
I unfasten your shirt
you kiss me deeply.
Wow I can still feel your heat.
You tell me I am beautiful
I say beautiful is for women.
We had *** in the wild outdoors
even in the earshot of home.
We were not friends back then
only lovers if you call lust love.
Look at us now we are all grown up
Our three children asleep in their beds
The nice house and cars.
You with your conservative
dress for success suit
the complete modern mom.
I am sat reading gardens monthly.
Do you remember when it happened?
getting grown up like this.
God darling
I would give it all up
for one crazy day when we were young.
your bra and ******* on the floor next the bed.
The faint smell of our burning joint
in an ashtray next to the bed.
And us on it
like the two wild animals we once were

Tapestry
By
Jude Kyrie

The summers flowering blooms are fading.
In the meadows and the lee.
I wonder as I am daydreaming
Have they bloomed their last for me?

The mass of blossoms at springtime
filled my heart with summers swell.
But now as I see them wilting.
Am I fading with them, as well?

My eyes have seen the twisted webbing,
that life’s needlepoint has done.
The light and dark of tiny threading
it has mingled one by one.

I wondered if the darkest thread
as black as deepest night.
Served only to make the pretty colors,
more vivid and sunshine bright.

My tapestry is almost woven
My strangely patterned web.
Perhaps this very moment
I am holding its last thread.

The seasons blooming flowers are fading.

In the meadow and the lea.

I wonder as I am daydreaming

Have they bloomed their last for me?

The mass of flowers at springtime

filled my heart with summers swell.

But now as I see them wilt

I am fading with them as well.

My eyes have seen the magic webbing,

that’s life’s needlepoint has done.

The light and dark of threading

it mingled one by one.

I wondered if the darkest thread

as black as deepest night.

Served only to make the pretty colors,

more vivid and sunshine bright.

The tapestry is almost woven

My strangely patterned web.

Perhaps this very moment

I am holding its last thread.

Friedrich Claus Owner at Self-Employed
All copyright belongs above


Tax his land, tax his wage,
Tax his bed in which he lays.
Tax his tractor, tax his mule,
Teach him taxes is the rule.
Tax his cow, tax his goat,
Tax his pants, tax his coat.
Tax his ties, tax his shirts,
Tax his work, tax his dirt.

Tax his chew, tax his smoke,
Teach him taxes are no joke.
Tax his car, tax his grass,
Tax the roads he must pass.

Tax his food, tax his drink,
Tax him if he tries to think.
Tax his sodas, tax his beers,
If he cries, tax his tears.

Tax his bills, tax his gas,
Tax his notes, tax his cash.
Tax him good and let him know
That after taxes, he has no dough.

If he hollers, tax him more,
Tax him until he’s good and sore.
Tax his coffin, tax his grave,
Tax the sod in which he lays.

Put these words upon his tomb,
“Taxes drove me to my doom!”
And when he’s gone, we won’t relax,
We’ll still be after the inheritance tax.

tea leaves

Saying goodbye is never painless.
But today closing up her old house.
Where I spent my childhood so long ago.
It is dragging me into the doldrums.
Each room full of her sweet life.
I find her books her souvenir box.
Locks of her children’s hair.
Christening medals.
I go into my boyhood bedroom
For the last time.
It still contains my magazines
and a book I read as a child.
The box in mom’s room is
full of her clothes.
Ready for the Goodwill.
Then I packed the last of the
old familiar dishes in the kichen.
Solid stoneware that carried
my sustenance for all my younger life.
In the back of the cupboard
Moms china cup and saucer
With English roses on it.
The one she used to  
drink her morning
tea in all of her life.
On the rim a single tea leaf remained.
That had once touched her lips.
That was when the grief hit me
Like never before.

Bye Mom
I love you
Jude

Tea Leaves

The house seemed so small.
Yet here in my memory as a child
so very long ago it was always huge.
I walk through the rooms .
Familiar as they always were.

I can almost hear your voice
Calling me to the table.
Or to get ready for bed.

The packing had almost finished
Everything in boxes that would
never be opened again.

In your old kitchen I pack the
dinnerware that had had carried
our sustenance until I was an adult.
Piece by piece
I carefully place them in the box.

Then I find your old china tea cup
The one you used faithfully
each day of your life.
It still had a single tealeaf
Dried and on the rim.
Where your lips had been.

That is when the grief hit me
as it had never done before

Tea leaves

Saying goodbye is never painless.
But today closing up her old house.
Where I spent my childhood so long ago.
It is dragging me into the doldrums.
Each room full of her sweet life.
I find her books her souvenir box.
Locks of her children’s hair.
Christening medals.
I go into my boyhood bedroom
For the last time.
It still contains my magazines
and a book I read as a child.
The box in mom’s room is
full of her clothes.
Ready for the Goodwill.
Then I packed the last of the
old familiar dishes in the kichen.
Solid stoneware that carried
my sustenance for all my younger life.
In the back of the cupboard
Moms china cup and saucer
With English roses on it.
The one she used to  
drink her morning
tea in all of her life.
On the rim a single tea leaf remained.
That had once touched her lips.
That was when the grief hit me
Like never before.

Bye Mom
I love you
Jude

Tea Leaves

The house seemed so small.
Yet here in my memory as a child
so very long ago it was always huge.
I walk through the rooms .
Familiar as they always were.

I can almost hear your voice
Calling me to the table.
Or to get ready for bed.

The packing had almost finished
Everything in boxes that would
never be opened again.

In your old kitchen I pack the
dinnerware that had had carried
our sustenance until I was an adult.
Piece by piece
I carefully place them in the box.

Then I find your tea cup
The one you used faithfully
each day of your life.
It still had a single tea leaf
Dried and on the rim.
Where your lips had been.

That is when the grief hit me
as it had never done before.

  Tea Leaves

Saying goodbye is never painless.
But today closing up her old house.
Where I spent my childhood so long ago.
It is dragging me into the doldrums.
Each room full of her sweet life.
I find her books her souvenir box.
Locks of her children’s hair.
Christening medals.
I go into my boyhood bedroom
For the last time.
It still contains my magazines
and a book I read as a child.
The box in mom’s room is
full of her clothes.
Ready for the Goodwill.
Then I packed the last of the
old familiar dishes in the kichen.
Solid stoneware that carried
my sustenance for all my younger life.
In the back of the cupboard
Moms china cup and saucer
With English roses on it.
The one she used to
drink her morning
tea in all of her life.
On the rim a single tea leaf remained.
That had once touched her lips.
That was when the grief hit me
Like never before.

Bye Mom
I love you
Jude

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.

Remember when we first met Ted.
You always made things right.
We used to always sleep together.
So I was not scared at night.

We used to travel everywhere.
I hid you so no-one ever knew.
You were always there for me Ted.
And I was there for you.

I always told you all my trouble's Ted.
You would listen all the day.
And when I got a tummy ache.
You took the pain the away.

Once I had the measles
I was six days in my bed.
You never ever left me, Ted
You slept right by my head.

When the thunderstorm scared me.
And the lightning’s flashing light.
You snuggled up and held me.
So safe all through the night.

The passing years they rolled along Ted.
And we got older too.
I was not frightened anymore
Oh! what could I do with you?

Now my little sons  in his room.
There is a bear next to his head.
With  one eye missing
and it has a patch or two.
It is his favorite  bear named Ted.
It's You Ted,  It is You.

Telephones in the night

Awakened from the depths of oblivion
.The professional voice emotionless.
She died a few minutes ago
it was peaceful and sudden.
.Alone in the dark I weep.
Feeling insecure
like a small boy again.
A stupid thought comes to me.
Who will take care of me now?
Then I remember her soft lips.
Kissing me on my fevered brow
as a little boy.
The sweet fragrance
that was only hers.
Her face so beautiful to me.
I lay a dark suit on my bed
Accessorized a black tie and white shirt
Black for my mood white for her purity.
How come I did not call her last night?
Just to say thank you.
No much more than thank you
So much more.
I call her number to hear her voice again.
She says please leave a message.
I whisper
I love you mom.

Tonight I feel lost in the mist of time
No existence no name no purpose
Just a flickering candle burning
in the darkness waiting for the
end of the wick to fizzle  in molten wax.

Now I feel the frost
of a frozen domain.
I am cold with no feelings
Send me warmth
melt my soul.
Before old age carries it away
let me love.
let me write.
let me create again.

I whisper prayers to a silent God.
Remember me
oh lord of all things
If I am not forever lost then
Write my name on heavens wall.
Lift me to the mountain top.
Where heaven can be seen.
Up high to an eternity of lightness.
Touch my face with your hand
fill me with all that is you
and let me see who I really am.

Wondering
She whispered,
"Tenderness flows
from you like soft spring rain.
I have seen many men before.
But you make my soul speak."

Saying nothing
He touched her cheek gently
With the tips of his fingers.
And words were not needed
To fill her with grace.

Reading
She read his poem
The one he wrote
for her in the night.
And tears fell from her eyes
Onto the scripted ink.
Tenderness gripped her heart.
holding her in invisible chains.

Sleeping
Her head on his bare chest
Her hair falling over him
like yellow corn
His words were in her heart
Her words that he conjured for her.
Tenderness was falling over
her dreams like down snowflakes

Watching
She looked at his young face
Sleeping as a child.
On the softness of her breast.
All the tenderness remaining
Inside her scarred heart.
Joined with his
to fill the room
with a glowing light.
As she kissed
his long dark eyelashes

Tenderness
By
Jude Kyrie

*Wondering
She whispered,
Tenderness flows
from you like soft spring rain.
I have seen many men before.
But you make my soul speak.

Saying nothing
He touched her cheek gently
With the tips of his fingers
And words were not needed
To fill her with grace.

Reading
She read his poem
The one he wrote
for her in the night.
And tears fell from her eyes
Onto the scripted ink.
Tenderness gripped her heart.
Holding her in invisible chains.

Sleeping
Her head on his bare chest
Her hair falling over him
Like yellow corn
His words were in her heart
Her words that he conjured for her.
Tenderness falling over
her dreams like down snowflakes

Watching
She looked at his young face
Sleeping as a child
On the softness of her breast.
All the tenderness remaining
In her scarred heart.
Joined with his
to fill the room
with a glowing light.
As she kissed
his long dark eyelashes.

Tenderness
By
Jude Kyrie

Wondering
She whispered,
Tenderness flows
from you like soft spring rain.
I have seen many men before.
But you make my soul speak.

Saying nothing
He touched her cheek gently
With the tips of his fingers
And words were not needed
To fill her with grace.

Reading
She read his poem
The one he wrote
for her in the night.
And tears fell from her eyes
Onto the scripted ink.
Tenderness gripped her heart.
Holding her in invisible chains.

Sleeping
Her head on his bare chest
Her hair falling over him
Like yellow corn
His words were in her heart
Her words that he conjured for her.
Tenderness falling over
her dreams like down snowflakes

Watching
She looked at his young face
Sleeping as a child
On the softness of her breast.
All the tenderness remaining
In her scarred heart.
Joined with his
to fill the room
with a glowing light.
As she kissed
his long dark eyelashes.

Thanksgiving Dinner

Its Thanksgiving again
Speeding round the sun
it comes faster every year.
Mom will not be at this one
Her thanksgiving dinners are gone.
But I am sure she is on
a cloud looking down
smiling at her family.
the golden turkey
sat near a still life
of autumn vegetables.
Gourds and Indian corn in a bowl
on the sideboard.
The log fire burning bright.
I look for the a moment
at my sisters child
the youngest granddaughter
her lovely green large eyes
exactly like moms.
Moms latent fingerprint
saying ha ha, you thought
you got rid of me
Well here I am again.
The child oblivious to her heritage
the genes Mom had left her.
Unaware she is a sequel to the book
that was moms life.
I kiss the baby girls cheek
and thank the lord
for her
Immortality.

Thank You--based on a spoken word poem
by the magnificent Sarah Kay

I get lost all the time.
I always feel I should be somewhere else.
It is the curse of being a poet
And the grace of being one.

When I am inside writing
I feel I should be outside living.
When I am outside living.
I feel I should be inside writing
about all the beautiful things I see.

When I write my emotional love poems.
I feel I should be outside
loving someone for real.
When I am out loving someone
I feel I should be inside
writing a love poem about it.
I always feel I am lost in between.

But I found some peace
and some tranquility
I learned to whisper the words
Thank You.
On the first breath of morning.
And of the last waking moment of night.

So I know for sure that when
It is my last moment on earth.
I would say to my maker
how grateful
and privileged I have been.
To have been given the grace
of a poet's eyes
And the emotional oceans
of a poet's heart.

I was born in the waves of music
so long ago now
when the music was faint.
barely audible almost silent.
I was a accident a beautiful one
but still an accident.
She was a concert pianist
he was a guitar player in a rock band.
they should have hated each other
but that's where I came in
they didn't.
her father was a control freak
all he could see was her career.
after my parents met
it was something at first sight.
They slept together
on a bench on a new York rooftop.
I guess you could say
that's where I came in.
Her father took her away
to her recital in California.
she did not even know his name.
but I found out later
she never married
nor did he.
When Mom found she was pregnant
her father said it must be adopted.
I became an it instead the baby
or my grandson or even the boy.
Mom had an accident
after the news she was
to put me up for adoption.
She ran into the street
and a bike courier hit her hard.
I was born
but her father
I still cannot call him gandfather.
forged her name on adoption papers.
when she woke up in hospital
he said the baby was lost.
that I did not make it.
I was put into the orphanage.
I never got adopted
I guess I was bit weird.
I listened to music everywhere
in the grass the street the wind.
and I knew somehow
She was out there.
I could feel it.
I became a musical prodigy at seven
I could write music without lessons.
I could play any instrument
you threw at me.
the nuns at the orphanage
sent me to juliard.
I was their youngest student at nine.
Then her father confessed
what he had done on his deathbed.
Mom searched and searched
until she released the adoption papers
with the forged signature.
she saw my photo for the first time.
she said that's him.
at juliard I wrote a symphony.
it was put forward to play
in central park for best new composers.
The moon played
its music loud that night
The park was full
and she was playing
the concert piano.
when my music played
it awakened in her heart
I could see her feeling it
she felt me.
She felt my music.
She felt her son.
The concert finished
they called me to the stage
to take a bow.
but she came to me
in her beautiful gown.
she was so pretty.
she held me in her arms
I felt for the first time
the softness of my mother.
her eye makeup
was running down
her beautiful face.
is it ..is it you she asked.
I kissed her cheek
and whispered yes mom.
thank you for the music.

Thank You For The Music*
A story of chance and circumstance
and perhaps fortunate Serendipity


I was born in the waves of music.
So long ago now.
When the music was faint,
barely audible, almost silent.
I was an accident but a beautiful one.
But still an accident.
She was a concert pianist
very young and beautiful
I forgot to mention talented.
He was a guitar player in a rock band.
They should have hated each other
but then that's where I came in
they didn't.
Her father was a control freak
all he could see was her career.
After my parents met
it was something at first sight.
They slept together
on a bench on a new York rooftop.
I guess you could say
that's where I really came in.
Her father took her away
to her recital in California.
she did not even know his name.
I found out later
she never married
nor did he.
When Mom found she was pregnant
her father said it must be adopted.
I became it instead of the baby
or my grandson or even the boy.
Mom had an accident
after the news she was
to put me up for adoption.
She ran into the street
and a bike courier hit her hard.
I was born
but her father
I still cannot call him grandfather.
forged her name on adoption papers.
when she woke up in the hospital
he said the baby was lost.and
that I did not make it.
I was put into the orphanage.
I never got adopted
I guess I was bit weird.
No, I really know I was different.
I listened to music everywhere
in the grass the streets inside the wind.
and I knew somehow
She was out there.
I could feel it.
A couple came to adopt me
but I said no thanks
I already have a Mom.
She will find me I am sure.
I became a musical prodigy at seven.
I could write new music without lessons.
I had been taught by nature"s friends
The beat of the street and the whisper of the wind
the rustle of the long free meadow grass.
I could play any instrument
you threw at me.
the nuns at the orphanage
sent me to Julliard.
I was their youngest student at nine.
Then her father confessed
what he had done on his deathbed.
Mom searched and searched
until she released the adoption papers
with the forged signature.
she saw my photo for the first time.
she said that's him.
at Julliard, I wrote a symphony.
it was put forward to play
in central park for best new young composers.
The moon played
its music loud that night.
The park was full
and she was playing
the concert piano.
when my music played
it awakened in her heart.
I could see her feeling it
she felt me.
She felt my music.
She felt her son.
The concert finished
they called me to the stage
to take a bow.
but she came to me
in her beautiful gown.
she was so pretty.
she held me in her arms
I felt for the first time
the softness of my mother.
her eye makeup
was running down
her beautiful face.
is it..is it you? she asked.
I kissed her cheek
and whispered yes Mom.
It's me.
Thank you for the music.

I was born in the waves of music
so long ago now as I look back on my life.
It was a time when the music was faint.
barely audible almost silent.
I was a accident a beautiful one
but still an accident.
She was a beautiful young concert pianist
he was a guitar player in a rock band.
They should have hated each other
but that's where I came in
they didn't.
Her father was a control freak
all he could see was advancing her career.
After my parents met
it was something like love at first sight.
They slept together
on a bench on a new York rooftop.
I guess you could say
that's where I really came in.
Her father took her away
to her recital in California.
She did not even know his name.
But I found out later
she never married
nor did he.
When Mom found she was pregnant
her father said it must be adopted.
I became an IT instead the baby
or my grandson or even the boy.
Mom had an accident
after the news she was
to put me up for adoption.
She ran into the street
and a bike courier hit her hard.
I was born early.
But her father;
I still cannot call him gandfather.
Forged her name on my adoption papers.
when she woke up in hospital
he said the baby was lost.
that I did not make it.
I was put into the orphanage run by the Catholic nuns.
I never got adopted.
I guess I was bit too weird to keep.
I listened to music everywhere
in the grass the street the wind.
In the noise of the clanging city
Or the pattering beat of the rain.
And I knew somehow
She was out there.
I could feel it I knew it for sure.
I became a musical prodigy at seven
I could write music without lessons.
I could play any instrument
you threw at me.
The nuns at the orphanage
sent me to juliard.
I was their youngest student at nine.
Far away in California.
My life was changing.
There her father confessed
what he had done with my adoption on his deathbed.
Mom searched and searched
until she released the adoption papers in court
with the forged signature.
She saw my photo for the first time.
She said that's him...that's my son.
At juliard I wrote a symphony.
it was put forward to play
in central park for best new young composers.
The moon played
its magical music loud that summer night.
The park was full of the heart of New York.
And she was playing
the concert piano.
When my music played
it awakened something in her heart
I could see her feeling it.
She felt me.
She felt my music.
She felt her son.
The concert finished
They called me to the stage
to take a bow.
But she came to me
in her beautiful gown.
she was so pretty.
she held me in her arms.
I felt for the first time
the softness of my mother.
Her eye makeup
was running down
her beautiful face.
is it ..is it... you ...she asked.
I kissed her cheek
and whispered yes Mom.
It's me
It's your son.
Thank you for the music.

The inner city school was big and noisy.
I remember being scared and overwhelmed.
When I saw her for the first time
a cornucopia of colors In her flowing sari.
She floated no sound of footsteps.
Her skin perfectly brown
oh she was the most beautiful lady
I had ever seen.
I think she loved teaching more than life.
She would break an adult meetng
to  tend to a childs needs.
.Saying we must reschedule
I have a very important
meeting with my student
I must attend to.
she taught us patience and respect.
To listen to each other and to learn
from each person we spoke with.
she brought animals to the school
and introduced us to new species.
Everone wanted to be with her
when she taught us the class was silent
and every swoosh of her sari could be heard.
she stood by  the open window  of the classroom
Once and said listen can you hear it
I said its just silence Miss
she smiled and said no
it is the most beautiful
sound in the world
it is the sound of learning.
she would ask
what new thing we had learned
since last she saw us.
A color a poem a book.
I think I learned how to learn from her.
She basked in her small successes.
Later she told us of the nurses a doctor
schoolteacher author and a poet
that had spawned
from her classes.
Now when I visit England I always try
to see her in her small retirement flat.
she pours green tea that she says comes from
the foothills of the himalayas still teaching me.
As I recount for her all the new things
I have learned in the years since I saw her last.

I miss that certain spring.
The one where the blossoms
released their sweet fragrance.
As she kissed my lips
in the perfumed air.
The one where olive green leaves
Unfurled from buds and perfectly
became the color of her eyes.
The one where the sun
melted the winter’s cold.
And she lay warm and safe in my arms.
The one where her fingertips
traced forever’s
along my naked skin.
The one where forever’s melted
with the last of the north facing snow.
Do I miss that spring?
Or do I miss her?
I know I miss her
But only in that certain spring.
But I should never dream of springtime’s
for that would surely
break my heart in two.

She had warned me she was a witch.
but I did not believe in them.
I knew you would
come back to me she purred.
Her eyes green and beautiful.
Like a cats eyes.
the beat of her heart hypnotic.
I melted inside the warmth of her arms.
The music brought me here I said.
It was that first kiss she smiled.
I breathed a love spell  into your mouth
It found its way into your heart
as you slept.
And it’s beauty played music
In your soul.
I kissed her again
Her powers were too great.
I had no defense's from her
nor did I want them.
If I was spellbound
It was where I wanted to be.