Her eyes a lighthouse
When I'm set adrift.
Her arms a berth
For a slipless ship.

I will eat
From your hand
Close by the fire.
Feed me, warm me,
Know desire.

Sleep, Timothy, Sleep.
Let wishes dance about
Your feet for now.
Let angels fill sleep sweet dreams,
While all is as it seems.

Sleep, Baby, Sleep.
Worry not of
Place or times.
As yet, be happy
With childhood rhymes.

Sleep, Dreamer, Sleep.
Let  fancies fill your age forever.
Heed your heart
As sage
In waking hours.

Sleep, Angel, Sleep.
From dreams with candent smile,
You brighten,
Then light again
Where Angels sleep.

I hear you lost control;
I'm ambivalent to your state:
If what they mean is self-control,
Hold on, don't abdicate.

Now you're in damage control;
A result of inner strife:
You also have motor control,
So move on with your life.

I hear you've issues with quality control;
And want exclusive rights:
Exclude me from your command control,
I'm not your copyright.

If you're caught-up in crowd control;
Can't find a safe way out:
Put yourself on flight control,
Then kick and scream and shout.

With Life there is no price control;
It's often on back order:
With Life you give and take control,
It's cheaper across the border.

So set yourself on cruise control;
Steer clear of power sinkholes,
Drive by the Freaks who need control,
Those ******* fill potholes.

A poem is like a tickle,
It gives you joy and pain:
With blissful tears and
Tearful giggles,
You'll read that poem again.

A poem is like a damaged heart
In need of surgery:
The cut that heals,
A line that leaves
A scar along your heart.

I sometimes stand alone and stare
at time worn face and wayward hair
that frames green eyes with brightest red 
and do not recognise myself

Where is the girl that once belonged
to laughter, dancing, love and song
who always saw with lovers eyes
and sugar coated all her lies

She lingers somewhere far from here
a memory vague to those held dear
too long she has been kept apart
from you, the captor of her heart.

I hope you notice the expression in my song
Unlike that chiff-chaff over there
I try my best to be mellifluous when I sing
Not like him, not like him

Winter's gone and here we are hee hee
Hee hee
What shall we do now
Come on dear, I think you know
What we should be doing now
I'll sing it, I'll sing it!

You're a brave bird and so beautiful
Just right for me,  now do a twirl
Do a twirl !
And I'm the only blackbird in the world
You need
I'll sing it, I'll sing it!

You made it through the arduous
Ar-du-ous winter
Just like me, just like me
Brave bird!
I'll sing it, I'll sing it!

My wife's a lovely brown
She's hiding in the hedge
I love to sing do you?
We built a nest we did, we did!
So don't forget to look the other way
If you should venture over here
It would be such a waste of time
To have to do it all again

This place belongs to me!
My wife is here
We're trying for a family
She laid some lovely eggs
Blue they are, she sits on them to keep them warm
But it's a secret, it's a secret
I'll sing it, I'll sing it!

I hope you notice I try to vary my song
Mix up and blend the notes so as not to bore
And if it sounds like I'm trying to tell you something
Ex-plain something
That's because I truly am

I try to sound interesting
When I sing
Not like him
Mell-if-lu-os-ity is my favourite word
I made it up
I'll sing it, I'll sing it!

His expertise was knots
His profession to garrotte
If his wife should say
"Did you have a good day?"
The conversation stopped

I fell in love with him
I fell in love with you
fell in love with words
Why am I such a fool?

I fell in love with his arms
I fell in love with the strength
fell in love with the feeling
but never sure what it meant

I fell in love with reactions
I fell in love with his passion for words
fell in love with a presence
and a gentle sigh I heard

I fell in love with thoughts
I fell in love with given time
fell in love with the ponderings
that wander through my mind

I fell in love with romance
I fell in love with a heart in a whirl
fell in love with imagined caresses
Could you fall in love with this girl?

Lottie lived in an old pebble-mashed cottage in the middle of nowhere, with a ***** muzzle tree in the garden. She always wore white glubbs on a Sunday, and going to mumble sales was her favourite pass-time.

  All year round a lyre would smoulder in the gate, as the house was not connected to the lucidity grid, which Lottie considered the work of the davel. She liked to recite Shakespeare to her clogs but as she got older would mix up her worms and get her lettuces in the wrong order. At times I was the only one who could stand on her.

   There was a lovely orchard out the back in which all kinds of baffles, tums, bears and cheeses grew. She made the best crum plumble you never tasted.

  She loved her macaroni wireless, the old type powered by molluscs, although in latter times she accepted my gift of an up to date transittor with a built-in bat pack.

  We would ***** away many an hour as she reminisced about her youth, when she had traveled far and wide in the grand old days of steam *****.
  
  Lottie kept all her marbles right up to the end in an old sweet jar, kindly leaving them to me when she passed. So now it's up to me to carry the mantelpiece.  Dear old Lottie was unusual, but I liked her concentricity.

There's no one quite like Lottie
I'm sure you will agree
To some she didn't make much sense
But she always did to me