Emperor of a frozen domain

*The newspaper headlines
and the TV newscast
pour blood onto my kitchen table.
It’s unmistakable odor
Mixing with coffee and toast.
Has it always been like this?
A world of dark shadows
with ****** and hatred
hiding in every dark alley.
Take me back to innocence
Where childish pastimes
took me through simpler shadows.
Where damage was recoverable.
Born of lost loves and things
I left undone.
And even shadows
grew paler over time.
I now sit among coffee
and armchairs.
Enthroned over a frozen land.
Old and frail.
The emperor of a frozen domain.

He looked into her saddened eyes.
his fingers touching her cheek softly.
Almost in a whisper he said
You must know I always loved you.
fighting back teardrops
she retorted
I always loved you too honey.
Just as he walked away from her
for the last time.
when he was out of earshot
she whispered.
you will forever
be my special one darling.
The one who got away.

They say that Christmas is the hardest
Time of year for single people.
I still can’t get used to the single status.
The neighbors Christmas eve party
Is in full doldrums.
The party is kind of boringand God I miss her.
Then all changes in a single moment.
I see her standing next to me.
Stunning and sweet as she always was.
Beautiful but no longer my wife.
Her smile cuts my heart open
like a knife.
Hi how are you? she whispers.
I hope she cannot tell I am lying.
As I tell her I am fine and make up
some recent accomplishments.
My mind is locked on her figure
Her lips her hair.
I might as well be speaking
In a foreign language.
Words are falling like snowflakes
randomly In the wind.
I ask her how she has been
She frowns lightly.
There’s a hole in my life she said.
I fill up our glasses with wine.
Hope now raising in my heart
Like the wine filling my glass.
She tells a few happy stories
It’s weekend and a party
happy is a prerequisite.
We drink quicklyin an attempt
to fill our inner emptiness.
And suddenly its midnight
I hold her coat she slips
her arms into the sleeves.
Like we have done a thousand
times before.
I spin her to me we kiss softly.
I remember her and the hurt melts.
I fight back my dumb tears and
She comes back to my small flat
We make love the trapped
tears fall inside my eyes.
Then the warmth of her
floods my soul I am bipolar now.
Feeling over the moon.
I should have stayed on an
emotional carousel not jumped
onto the roller coaster.
I can’t hold it back
I spoil it all by saying
I love you honey.
So much
Please come back to me.
She stiffened slightly in my arms.
The close moment was lost.
We will see she whispers.
But I know.?I just know.
The house is silent I awaken
to the soft click of my door closing.
Her side of my bed is still warm.
Her perfume heady on her pillow.
I know my half healed heart
Will reopen the cuts she left before.
And I would bleed
like I did when she first left me.

the end of the blues

*His face was intense almost creased.
Dressed in ragged clothes he looked lost.
Once he had been handsome she thought.
Perhaps he still was If he was cleaned up.
He looked out of place in the blues bar.
The main artist had finished his performance.
Quietly he walked to the stage.
Picked up a trumpet golden and shiny.
Putting it to his lips the crowd watched.
Then he played the soulful tune
It touched her heart and her tears flowed.
All the pain of her long life in this music.
In the room a silence in reverence
Never in her life before or since
Had she heard such beauty.
It must come from a sadness in him
he played for ten minutes.
Tearing her soul each note beautiful
and haunting.
she wanted
to follow him forever.
To never stop hearing his playing.
When he stopped
she was kneeling at his feet.
Please take me with you she begged.
He smiled his soft blue eyes gentle and kind..
That is the reason I came here he replied,.
Who are you she whispered.
They call me Gabriel he said and unfolded his
beautiful white wings.
holding her he flew
to a place far above the clouds.
where the beautiful music never stopped.
The manager of the bar said
She just collapsed and died
Such a shame
she was a nice old lady

The Existance of Starlight

a poem
by
Jude Kyrie

What I always needed
was you,
always just you.
To be part of me like my
glasses or the
book by my chair.
Perhaps like the firelight
To rest In your arms
so full of warmth
comfort and safety.

Before we met
I dreamed of you..
you saw me there
in my dreams.
I Know you did.
I was holding out my arms
waiting for you.
Holding them out
until they ached.
Night after night
until dreams fade
into coffee and toast.

But I always knew
you were there for me.
That you would
come to me.one day.
Just as I Knew
the stars
are always there
even when
the sun is shining.
and no one can see them

Alone so alone
Even more in solitude.
Than before you kissed my lips
And took my soul in heated passions.
passions now chilled.
It was but a dream.
Something to feel but not to hold.
It faded
And now I am lost in strangers.
And the sadness is more
Thank I can bear.

She stood facing
the fading sunlight.
High on a windy hill
so beautiful and serene.
She told me
she was a fallen angel.
And her wings
had been taken away.
She said she would
teach me how to fly one day.
high over the thermals
with mountain tops below.
It was a sad
yet beautiful untruth.
She held out her arms
and enfolded me in them.
The beautiful fallen angel
with the sunlit hair
and eyes as blue
as a summer sky.
the only one
who can make
my lonely heart sing.

The leaves are falling falling falling
forming excited vermilion gatherings
about the floor of the forest.
The Mighty trees stand
stripped naked in lonely sadness
I tell them don’t be sad
for in the springtime
they will have an abundance
of beautiful new leaves.
But the autumn rain
falls from their branches
like sobbing tears.
They tell me they are mourning
for the beautiful colors they just lost.
and renewal brings no comfort

The misting of early morning.
Catches a chill in the autumn air.
Even the solitary sounds
Of  crackling brown leaves
Beneath my feet are
crying a dirge of loneliness.

Occasional drops of rain
touch my face and feel like tears.
Or a lonesome wind
Dances through
the skeleton branches.
The smell of the woodlands
Has changed it taste.

solitary trees hold
their secrets in silence.
Summer is now a passing liaison.
And the autumn is shouting
as fierce as a lady scorned.

These Olympics are lame.
Full of untruthfulness.
They say Usain Bolt
Is the fastest man alive.
Thats total fantasy.
Everyone in England knows
it was my uncle Willie.
A coal miner in northern England
In 1958.
He did the mile in One minute
Fifty two seconds in his pit boots no less.
When he fell down a mineshaft.
Jude

In the jungles
the lion roars his poems.
I am lost in the footpaths
that lead to his lair.
Primevil conflicts exist
in this dark place.
I know his poetry
contains my death.
Yet still I do not fear him
this is his domain.
Where the law is singular
and finite.
it is the keen edge
of the food chain.
we are not  different
the lion and I.
We are both
reciting our mantra
of **** or be killed.
of draw first blood
I see him in the shadows
huge his eyes red with menace.
He is snarling my poem
my death wish.
The poem he speaks
is beautiful.
It talks of time and history
of structure and balance.
I am transfixed
by his eloquence.
I raise my gun to place
the magnificent beast
within my sights.
Just one finger
I can remove this animal
from the world.
But he is more than I am
more worthy of survival
Purer of spirit and purpose.
The weapon points to ground
and instead I listen
to my final poem

The church tower clock rings a final chime.
The family is singing auld lang syne.
A cloud passed by a pale winter moon
The old year sings its final tune.

A single tick of the mantle clock.
and new years hopes now run amok
Its tiny feet patter on the floor
The new year breeze blows in the door

We kiss and hug in close embrace
The new beginning's we all now face
We make resolutions we can't keep
And go to bed for a new years sleep*

A happy and healthy New 2017
to all and everyone
From
Jude

I attended his first art exhibition
Not to buy of course but to enjoy
His beautiful gifts before they
Retired from view into the homes
Of the the rich and famous.

I am his woman he is too bohemian
To give our relationship a name.
But his visions of beauty flow
From the tip of a sable brush
Onto to both his canvas and my heart.

He arrives and makes an entrance
The patrons applaud him
He seems to ignore them and
Taking from his pocket his brush
Adds a touch of magenta to a flower
In his still life painting.
Seeking perfection as always.

For the same reason
I licked the tip of my finger
And moved a lock of his beautiful hair
From his forehead,

Not that it was untidy really
But more a sign that he still
Belonged to me even as the fame
Was taking him.
And that a simple touch
Was the purest form of love.

The south was dark and dangerous in. 1954
The **** called in the darkness
as fear hung from the night like spiders webs.

In the woodland by kitty Gains farm
alongside the perfume of corn and wheat
and the staccato chirping of hot august cicadas
stood the hemlock tree scared and black at its base
where its bark would never refresh its color
the hanging tree became the burning tree.

Molly Evans and her husband Abel arrived first.
The ten year old Chevy truck
pulled into the clearing
she held a basket
covered by a clean laundered tea towel.

Abel spread the old wool blanket
as she served his dinner fried chicken and corn.
With two cups of homemade lemonade.
The sun was low and the sky had a fire in it
as if by duty the mosquitos started to bite.

Abel slapped his arm
leaving a crushed insect and a patch of blood.
****** hitch he shouted
as Molly chastised him
language she churns God is listening.

Soon the field was full of vehicles a caddy a ford woody
trucks cars as big as football fields
nothing newer than 8 years old.
Men were drinking beer
ladies chatted of knitting and quilting
and harvest dancing socials.

It was then that jubels old beat up truck arrived.
In the back a ******* man
his hands tied behind his back
kneeling in the truck bed.
one eye closed and bruised
his face beaten ******.

The crowd fell to silence
yet an excitement filled the air it was palatable.
You could taste the bloodlust
as good as the fried chicken.

the ******* man had arms with muscles
. Like a football
he could carry huge sacks of produce all day never tiring.
But no more they would show
what happens to uppity blacks
that lust after white women.

He was accused by Lilly Taylor
of trying to **** her.
it was untrue he spurned her advances
he was married to Lisa his wife
and never ever did anything to her.
It was well known Lilly's husband
Seth drank moonshine until he could not walk
never mind fill his husbandry duties at home.

But lily was white and he was black in 1954
They watched as the truck parked
under the tall stout branches of the hemlock.
The rope hung down
and was measured his toes would tantalizingly
touch the ground as he choked on the noose.
it would keep him alive for minutes

****** don't get mercy here
they would know what to expect in this county.
The man who put the noose
Over his head was Marty Shue
the local bar owner
and his two assistants
were the the barber and the feed company owner.

Even the pillow cases they wore over their heads
with eye holes burned in them
could not hide their identities.
The barber poured a can of gasoline
over the black man
he begged don't burn my oh god no.

He had given up the hope of life
he was just  terrified of being burnt.
The begging went unheard
as the truck moved away slowly
the man fell from its bed
and dangled in the air
his toes dancing on the floor
gasping and choking for five minute.

then using his lighter
the feed company owner
Lit the black man.
He screeched an unholy sound
as the flames burnt him to death.

Across the hill in the shanty town
where the blacks lived.
the old lady looked at the lighted sky
in the trees

in her eyes a small boy
could see the flaming man
hanging burning dying.

Its your daddy son
he's at peace now let him be.
But the flames burned a memory
in his eyes.
and his mouth was dry tasting of death
and a new taste
that he had never felt before revenge.

1968
The boy was 24
a big man now
his arms strong muscular he stood 6ft 5
And 220 pounds

next to him in the old car
sat another black man slight and almost pretty
he has gay written all over him.
His relationship with Virgil was unknown.
just they were close
they were friends.

They arrived at Marty's bar
in the late afternoon
it was still a filthy relic of the postwar south.
The no ******* served sign
still hung faded and in defiance
to the new laws.

The light colored slight man
rattled the sticking door of the bar.
The three men were watching a wrestling match
on a beat up tv
Drinking beer.

He said to Marty I would like a beer please
You don't Get one in here boy
there's a black bar down the road a ways.
But I want one here he saId softly

Marty short of his usual millimeter of patience
picked up his huge louisville slugger bat
and said when I say go boy you ******* well go.
Hear me.

The feed store owner had a gun
hidden in his coat
the barber a long hunting knife in his belt.
The bat raised above his head
as Marty lurched forward

he tried to stop when he saw the glock
in the black man's hand.
it basted his kneecaps to pieces.
as Marty screeched as he hit the floor.

The feed company owner took the chance
to pull out his weapon a 45
he had had since a boy.
It never reached waist high
as the bullets blow his manhood away
and he cradled writhing on the floor

the barber tried to run for the door
but bullets blasted his feet
as the foot bones crumbled

Virgill came in he had a can of gasoline
drenching the men with it
they screamed don't burn us
why you doin this to us we are good men.

Do you remember August 28 1954
They went quiet
The ****** you hung and burned

Yes I am sorry Marty wept
I was young and stupid.

It was my daddy
said Virgil softly I see him every day.
He talked of the thin membrane that.
Separated the living and the dead

of the places where it was so thin
you could hear the demands of the dead
for forgiveness and love
and the loudest of all for justice.

I hear my daddy in my sleep
in my dreams in my soul.
The gas can was empty.

As he grew a cigarette on Marty
his body ablaze in the whoosh of the fire
then the other two .
The place was engulfed in screams and flames.

They drove slowly
within all speed limits
passing the state lines one by one.

They never found out
who murdered three men in Marty's bar.
They had no underworld connections
and all three were fine upstanding
members of the local church
and well respected
members of the community.
it was a mystery.

The end

In shadows burn the fires aglow
Carpeted with hues of amber snow
A cooling breeze calls summers death
In tears of autumn she draws last breath.
The fires of autumns trees ablaze
Shouting of victory upon warm summer days

She was not a fresh faced
honey girl from my class.
Nor a woman who
took money to rid
college boys of their virginity.
It did not happen
fumbling in the back of a car.
Or lay in the grass of a meadow
under a moonlit sky.
It was in her small walk up flat
up three flights of dimly lit stairs.
I can still feel my legs weaken
In anticipation of the unknown.
Inside the untidy table
had a full ashtray
A half bottle of red wine.
A Picasso reproduction
Gargoyled from the wall.
She was full of experiences.
That I could only imagine.
She pulls a strip of condoms
from her night table.
The bedroom window
open wide.
The summer breeze
whispered
Hush Hush
It’s your time
It’s your time.
She took me softly.
Gently almost like a dream.
I cried out as my boyhood left me.
Draining into her
in its irrecoverable loss.
Outside the breeze
had turned to a cool wind
Blowing my uncertainty and doubts
far Into the night.
She was my life teacher
and I her avid student.
Later the door closed
as I left her.
Her memory now
Indelibly burned on my soul.

She was not a fresh faced
honey girl from my class.
Nor a woman who
took money to rid
College boys of their virginity.
It did not happen
Fumbling in the back of a car.
Or lay in the grass of  meadow
under a moonlit sky.
It was in her small walk up flat
up three flights of dimly lit stairs.
I can still my legs weaken
In anticipation of the unknown.
Inside the untidy table
had a full ashtray
A half bottle of red wine.
A Picasso reproduction
Gargoyles from the wall.
She was full of experiences.
That I could only imagine.
She pulls a strip of condoms
from her night table.
The bedroom window
open wide
the summer breeze
whispered
Hush Hush
It’s your time
It’s your time.
She took me softly.
Gently almost like a dream.
I cried out as my boyhood left me
Draining into her
in its irrecoverable loss.
Outside the breeze
had turned to wind
Blowing my uncertainty and doubts
Far Into the night.
She was my teacher
And I her avid student.
Later the door closed
As I left her.
Her memory now
Indelibly burned on my soul.

The First Blizzard of Winter
By
Jude Kyrie

The snow
has taken over the world.
Unable to stop
it silently deepens.
Ghostly forms
of shapeshifting objects
blow into my porch.
A ball a cloud a silken windsock
piling up against the door.
The trees in my street are
covering their nakedness
in a shroud of white.
The perfect meeting
of shape and form.
It’s artist pallet contains
only white.
It is as though the stars
have cascaded to earth.
Their particles of stardust
setting the world into
a state of grace.
I fall asleep
Under the snowy down
feather’s of my duvet.
As all the soft gentle
words of love ever spoken.
Fall from the heavens
and land onto my dreams.

She was not a fresh faced
honey girl from my class.
Nor a woman who
took money to rid
college boys of their virginity.
It did not happen
fumbling in the back of a car.
Or lay in the grass of a meadow
under a moonlit sky.
It was in her small walk up flat
up three flights of dimly lit stairs.
I can still feel my legs weaken
in anticipation of the unknown.
Inside the untidy table
had a full ashtray
a half bottle of red wine.
A Picasso reproduction
Gargoyled from the wall.
She was full of experiences.
That I could only imagine.
She pulls a strip of condoms
from her night table.
The bedroom window
open wide
the summer breeze
whispered
Hush Hush.
It’s your time
It’s your time.
She took me softly.
Gently almost like a dream.
I cried out as my boyhood left me
draining into her
in its irrecoverable loss.
Outside the breeze
had turned to wind
Blowing my
uncertainty and doubts
far Into the night.
She was my teacher
and I her avid student.
Later the door closed
as I left her.
Her memory now
indelibly burned
onto my soul.

The first poem

I am mid life now
finding myself pensive.
working in my flower garden
on a sunny Sunday morning.
then a poem pulls up
driving a red mustang convertible.
I remember this car
and this beautiful poem.
it wants me to unbutton my shirt
and unhook my bra.
I sit in the still familiar back  seat.
the poem recites it's soft downy words.
I notice I have taken all my clothes off
like a white pale statue.
I notice the reflection of my naked self
so desirable so hot
I still have it I feel it
I know it.
Afterwards
the poem and I
talk of Forevers
and marraige
and other untruths.

The First Time

*She was not a fresh faced
honey girl from my class.
Nor a woman who
took money to rid
college boys of their virginity.
She was experienced
and older than me
But lovely.
It did not happen
fumbling in the back of a car.
Or lay in the grass of a meadow
under a moonlit sky.
It was in her small walk up flat
up three flights of dimly lit stairs.
I can still feel my legs weaken
In anticipation of the unknown.
Inside the untidy table
had a full ashtray
A half bottle of red wine.
A Picasso reproduction
Gargoyled from the wall.
She was full of experiences.
That I could only imagine.
She pulls a strip of condoms
from her night table.
The bedroom window
open wide.
The summer breeze
whispered inside.
Hush Hush
It’s your time
It’s your time.
She took me softly.
Gently almost like a dream.
I cried out as my boyhood left me
draining into her
in its irrecoverable loss.
Outside the breeze
had turned to wind
Blowing my uncertainty and doubts
far Into the night.
She was my teacher
and I her avid student.
Later the door closed
as I left her.
Her memory now
Indelibly burned on my soul.

THE FIRST TIME


sometimes the sky's too blue
The stars are too bright
sometimes the very air we breathe is intoxicating.
I know this…. I know this.
She was just 18
I was only seventeen.
I was far too young
To be a safe place
But passion roared like a lion.
I was its slave.
She took me after the prom.
I swore I would die loving her.
That was not a lie.
But life is a ghost
A specter that returns to haunt you.
She told me she was pregnant.
I was overwhelmed’
I was frightened.
She left me
I went with her to the clinic.
I sat outside in the beat up Chevy.
She moved to LA far away from the tiny
town I lived in.

About fifteen years later
I saw her again
She came back for a class reunion
She saw me I was drinking a glass of wine
My heart stopped I felt a flashback.
She was angry at me I know
But I asked her to dance with me.
She finally accepted
And the ice melted
There is no one
who can take the place of the first --no one

She called me a *******
I agreed with her.
She said she hated me
I said I understand why.
She kissed me
And I kissed her back.


A year later
We walked into the fall park
Its beautiful foliage glowing in the evening sun
The twins were laughing in their stroller
I picked them up
And said
I love you guys so much
I will be here forever for you.
And she opened a door in the heart that  
She had saved just for me
And i walked inside.
I heard her close the door behind me
Locking me inside
She threw away the key
Into the urban jungle.
And I was safe here
Knowing I had found a place
That I would live forever
And I knew
That there is nothing
That can replace
The first time

I am standing so close to you.
For the first time in your
private space.
I can taste your aura.
Fragrant with the bouquet
of flowers and  strawberry.
My own self defenses
falling one after the other.
Words are now locked inside
like my thoughts.
Emotions are alight
You step even closer to me.
The redness of your lips
bringing your breath to me.
As we share our first kiss
All my cares are now floating
away into the light summer breeze
like dandelion seeds.

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

.The first time ever I saw your face
By
Jude Kyrie

*The first time ever I saw your face
It played that fateful night.
I danced so close to you.
So close like we were one.

The aphrodisiac of the senses
were overloaded.
My defenses melted
like snow in late spring.
just the softness of you
only of you.
flowed into my body.

Your soft breath sweet
mixing with mine.
The need to kiss
was dancing in the air.

My battle It was over
before it started .
You had my heart and soul.
You still do after all this time.

Some events are destined to happen.
Some souls are destined to meet.
By the end of one lovely song
I had had found the place that
nature had saved for me.
I found it inside your sweet heart.
I entered it through the door
you had left open for my arrival.

It had been open for so long
but closing tightly shut
as I entered inside it freely.
We both threw away
the keys to our hearts.
Some things are just meant to be.
like we are
Like we will always be.

I remember the first time she said it.
I was fixing a bike for the kid upstairs.
It was soft almost a whisper.
She said I love you honey.
I was dumbfounded
getting oil from the bike chain
all over my shirt.
Say it again
I whispered please
say it again.
I love you
she uttered quietly.
I looked at her
so unsure of herself
almost quivering with
my unknown response.
But there was something
about her that grasped my heart
and I knew I would want
to hear her say it forever.
Then she got braver
I Love You. I Love You, I Love you
she shouted at full voice.
Like the words had been
on her tongue for a long time.
waiting to be said.
waiting to be heard.

I remember the first time she said it.
I was fixing a bike for the kid upstairs.
It was soft almost a whisper.
She said I love you honey.
I was dumbfounded
getting oil from the bike chain
all over my shirt.
Say it again
I whispered please
say it again.
I love you
she uttered quietly.
I looked at her
so unsure of herself
almost quivering with
my unknown response.
But there was something
about her that grasped my heart
and I knew I would want
to hear her say it forever.
Then she got braver
I Love You. I Love You, I Love you
she shouted at full voice.
Like the words had been
on her tongue for a long time.
waiting to be said.
waiting to be heard.

I remember the very
first time she said it.
I was fixing a bike
for the little kid upstairs.

It was soft almost a whisper.
I only half heard it.
She said
I love you honey.
I was dumbfounded

Getting oil from the bike chain
all over my shirt.
Say it again.... Again...
I whispered.... please
say it again.

I love you
she uttered quietly.
I looked at her
so unsure of herself
almost quivering with
my unknown response.

But there was something
about her that grasped my heart
and I knew I would want
to hear her
say it to me forever.

Then she got braver
I Love You.
I Love You,
I Love you
she shouted at full voice.

Like the words had been
on her tongue
for a long time.
Desperately waiting to be said.
Desperately waiting to be heard.

I remember the first time she said it.
I was fixing a bike for the kid upstairs.
It was in a soft voice almost a whisper.
She said " I love you honey."
I was dumbfounded.
Getting oil from the bike chain
all over my shirt.
Say it again
I whispered please
say it again.
"I love you"
she uttered quietly.
I looked at her
so unsure of herself
almost quivering in fear of
my unknown response.
But there was something
about her that grasped my heart
and I knew I would want
to hear her say it forever.
Then she got braver
I Love You. I Love You, I Love you
she shouted at full voice.
Like the words had been
on her tongue for a long time.
waiting to be said.
waiting to be heard.

She was so easy to love
I have never seen
any woman as beautiful as her.
she did not ask
for love in return.
you just smiled
held out your hand
and your heart
would be in it.
she collected broken things
and repaired them like new.
I think that Is what
she did with me.
under her tender care
she fixed the huge hole
I had in my heart..
But she was a collector
Of Broken things.
and when I was repaired.
as good as new once more.
she knew I was no longer broken.
then she let me go
and broke my heart
in such a way that it
could never be
fixed again.

She was etheral
in her beauty.
everyone loved her
especially me.
She would mend
anything that was broken.
a vase, a childs toy ,a birds wing
and of course my heart..
she fixed the terrible wounds
and scars she saw in my heart.
fixed it as good as new.
and I loved her without limit.
But just as she
set the bird free
when its Wings
were repaired.
she set me free
and broke my heart.
in such a way
it could never be
repaired again.

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

I found her resting silent in the park,
calm and peaceful almost translucent.
Sometimes the flowers would bloom for her
as she touched them with her fingertips.
.Animals were unafraid of her, she is surrounded
by birds a rabbit and squirrels seeming content
to sit quietly at her feet.

She told me once the sky was her rooftop
and also the floor of eternity.
The stars at night sent flickering beams
of the  purest light washing her soul in her sleep,
through the open spaces of the treetops.

Loneliness was never near her.
Her world had too many wonderful gifts
to ever be lonely.
Beyond her stars lay the portals of infinity
where complete tranquility reigns,
she said she would one day go there.
And her spirit would find all the wonders
that could not be imagined
in this short lifespan.

She does not come here anymore
the park is somehow less peaceful
without her.
And I miss her.

The forever kind of beautiful
by
Jude Kyrie

*I fell in love with her beauty
it snapped on my heart
like a bear trap
impossible to escape from.
she was not just beautiful
like a model smiling in a magazine
she had a beautiful mind
she radiated beauty to all she loved
from a sun deep inside her soul.
even in her sadness we all turned
to her beautiful warmth like flowers
to the light.
her beauty did not come only
from her lovely looks
or any other temporary source.
it was ingrained on her soul
she is beautiful in a way
that makes beauty immortal.

Since you left me darling.
I have kissed the lips of others.
Even in their heated passions.
They do not compare
to the slightest
brush of your kiss
upon my lips.

THE Ghost OF Christmas Future..
A Romantic Poem OF Renewal
At  Chistmas
by Jude kyrie

*The winter fell from eternity that year.
Perhaps it had hidden there forever.
But now it filled snowflakes with the light
of old  street lamps.

Perhaps that would have been enough once.
But the dinner at the hotel
Had candles red and green to celebrate
the season of goodwill to man.

The loss of  a Christmas past can
fall like the snowflakes..
Hardly noticeable at first.
Then a dusting falling onto the face
living as  frozen tears

Put away in the freezer of time.
The ice crystals cannot
live in the warmth of this season
They are frozen as cold as ice.
Upon  the cheeks of old Christmas past.

Misty memories come alive
Wounds open again and blood flows.
The hurt returns.
They say  time is the healer
It patches the wounds.

But scars live forever.
And she is here now.
not to replace her
or take away what she was.
but to take what is
left of me
and shine it like old silver.

in the festive restaurant.
Her smile a cure for sadness.
Her hand a guiding light
Her heart glowing
like the yulelog in thefireplace

Then from the candlelight,
the cure
The one waited for In an eternity of sadness.
The future ghost of Christmas
Was in the candlelight that danced
Inside her beautiful eyes

I am the faded memory
that hangs upon your wall
The night birds calls my tune
as the saddest notes will fall

I am the faded photograph
that lives in an ancient memory box
along with ribbons and birthday cards
and a  pair of infants Sox.

I am the distant sound of silence
that rings upon your heart.
that wakes you up from deepest sleep
and cause the tears to start.

I am the love that's passed on bye
leaving longing in your soul
I am part of you your other half
that you need to feel quite whole.

The boy with the piercing
diamond blue eyes.
Looked longingly at
the beautiful girl who
wore a dress of stardust.
He stood too close to her
His heart reached
out in hope.
She burnt his soul
With the heat
of her fires.
And the winds
of forever.
Lifted them
to the heavens.
Where together
they glowed as bright
as any star
In the galaxy.

The boy with the piercing
diamond blue eyes.
Looked longingly at
the beautiful girl who
wore a dress of stardust.
He stood too close to her
His heart reached
out in hope.
She burnt his soul
With the heat
of her fires.
And the winds
of forever.
Lifted them
to the heavens.
Where together
they glowed as bright
as any star
In the galaxy.

.She catches the morning train.
I see her everyday.
The 7am from Tuddleston.
For three years
I was in love with her of course
only from a respectful distance.
So elegant and sweet
A bit conservative but lovely.
I passed time
with have a nice day.
Good morning how are you.
Once it was Christmas
she kissed me softly on the cheek.
and wished me happy holidays.
Not the kiss I craved
but still a kiss.
I fantasized loosening
her french braids.
letting her hair fall
on my skin like spring rain.
it was a harmless fantasy.
Then one day she did not
show up for the morning train.
I panicked almost asking
the porter to wait for her.
I found out she was very ill.
the sickness took her quickly.
I visited her at the hospital
every night
reading her books to her.
When she left me
I was desolate.
I still catch the same train
from Tuddleston to the city
but the seat across
from me is empty.
The only destination I crave
this train cannot reach.
It is far above the clouds.
In a high place way beyond
my station.

She was almost ethereal.
I think she had the purest heart
I have even seen.
So naturally beautiful and simple.
She loved to fix broken things.
A birds wing,
A broken doll,
A China vase,
Me.

When she found me
i was sdamaged and broken.
And yet she fixed me
just like she
promised she would.
I was as good as new once more.

I loved her beyond everything.
i would follow her forever
to the ends of the earth.

But once I was repaired.
She let me go and set me free.
like the bird with a mended wing.

And my heart shattered into
A million pieces.
So badly broken.
That it can never
be repaired again.

.

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.

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

She was unique that I know.
She believed there was no place called hell.
But heaven existed in every moonbeam.
She thought that ice cream was for anytime.
She believed in smiling and laughing
And said frowns were a crazy thing.
She believed in love, oh boy!
Did she ever believe in love.
Then one magnificent day
She gave all her love to me?
I never thought that I could fly
But she said of course you can silly.
Taking my hand in hers
We flew high above the mountains.
Alongside the eagles.
In a place where only true lovers
Could breathe the pure air

The Girl Who Taught Me Magic



* When a small child I did not believe in magic

Then I found without it life is dull and tragic

I met a strange girl with faraway eyes

she listened to flowers and could hear their sighs
*
Her voice was like chiming bells

she would sing over meadows and leafy dells

Whispering secrets to the hills

Understanding a starlings shrill

She taught me to speak with the babbling brook

To know a bird by just one look

and breathe the magic perfume of the flowers

She could ease my mind for hours and hours

She taught me never to be alone

To find smooth pebbles and befriend a stone

How to bathe in a storms rainbow

and make angels in the snow

She laughed at wild thunderstorms

on a hot summer morns

How to dance while I walked

and to stop with all creatures for a  talk

Then when all her magic secrets I knew

She fluttered her wings and to another she flew

Now I know magic is not a trick

Its natures wonder of real magic

Even now she will drop by

Sliding down a rainbow in the sky

When she sends a snowflake to kiss my face

I know shes back with her magic grace

When a small boy I did not believe in magic.
Then I found without it life is dull and tragic
One dayI met a strange girl with faraway eyes.
she could listen to the flowers and hear their sighs.

Her voice was like tinkling chiming bells.
She would sing over meadows and leafy dells.
Whispering her secrets to the hill.
Understanding a starlings shrill.

She taught me to speak with the babbling brook.
To know any bird with just one look.
How to breathe the perfume of the flowers.
She could ease my mind for hours and hours.

She taught me never to be alone
To find smooth pebbles and befriend a stone.
How to bathe inside a storms rainbow
and make angels wings in the snow.

She laughed at wildest thunderstorms
That crashed upon hot summer morns.
I learned how to dance while I walked
and to stop with all creatures for a talk.

Then when all her magic secrets I knew
She spread her wings and to another she flew.
For now I know magic is not a trick
Its natures wonder thats real magic

Even now she will drop by
Sliding down a rainbow in the sky.
When she sends a snowflake to kiss my face
I know shes back with her magic grace