So when can my sassy smile,
Be gazed upon by your chestnut eyes?
Shall I stroll that golden mile?
Meet you at home to hug away my thirsting sighs.

The beams of sun have peeped hello,
Called to the wind to cease its blow.
Amble with the boys along our walk,
Pass the time with our looks and light chatter'd talk.

Let naught but kind words pass from my lips;
If my love is under bolt and bar,
Seldom can I see her; what comfort
Is there in this flowing river
I sit by? Passed have two rainy moons,
On her slanted path, since my efforts
To swim, drag my body with strong currents
In bitter panic; and she blushes a red
Face at me today. A creamy colada
Now restores my nerve, energizing
My gaze at this same rage of torrent.
Happy now am I! Above, with taut
And un-slack reins, the sun is pulled
Up to its zenith, on his middle groove,
The Costa Rican equatorial
Route is laid before him. Our moon
Covers half her body in the liquid
Blue upon high, and still illumes true;
As her charioted golden brother chases,
Sharing expanse of the sky.

All types
Of animals are within view, different
Birds on outspread flight swoop, colours
Of varied hue, and mammoth trees arch
Their girth over, and with face, admire,
It seems, their own reflection. A dragonfly
Lands softly upon my hand, his cousin
Insects kiss the crystals of the waters ripple,
Dancing with music on invisible tunes,
Pleasing mates selected by fate.
My eyes are open, light shifts swiftly
To the far end of the most brightest
Of her wide spectrum, aqua-marine,
Turquoise, sun-bathed leaves basking in yellow;
On my brow I place now roses, now Lilies
Mingled in harmony with violets;
But eyes closed see more than any open.
My vision, my most sorrowful vision,
Misses your smile and simply the touch
I give to your hand; my inspiration
I yearn for, crave, my soul grows pale
And whiter than the sheets of paper
I write this upon.

Fairer than the fairest
Star in heaven, my little bark,
My faithful verse, on this strong river,
I do boldly launch; for it is a beautiful
And silent day, overspreading
All the earth; fades into quietness,
As dazzling as ever was given
To ease my regret, though it deepens
What it sets out to soothe; cheered on
With hope, I feel deeply in what
World I am, on what ground I tread,
And what air I breathe. A calmer mind
Promising soft peace and sweet forgetfulness,
All hush, defenceless as a wood where
Tigers savagely roam.

Never mind
My pain that is lost, grief works itself up
And fans its own flame; and in this plain tale,
Draws tears from your humble heart;
If from the air, into your ***** breathe free,
The ever-varying winds that sweep
Over your shores; if not, may in this balmy time,
Fearless in soul, dip my words in amber,
Immersed into this river I sit by;
May it tenderly flow into the great ocean,
Towards the sea you bathe your dainty
Feet within. Enjoy my muse! Like these
Waters that through age with sway eternal,
More beats will stir; more measures
You are duly gifted, for I still
Do need your memory. My sweet song,
Like a cascading waterfall, I apologise,
Can never be silent about you.
My knees bend, and from upward glance,
Speak of these things, like storm or sunshine,
Exist in my individual mind,
Drawing power from all four corners
Of the winds; and that gentle breeze
You feel strike upon your pretty face,
Whenever you do, may well be
My most caring, forever loving voice.

You removed your delicate hand away
From your *****, and sprinkled
Stardust upon the moon tonight.

While the clouds obeyed her secret palms,
She parted them enough
For her borrowed light to shine through.

Her beams glittered cataract diamonds,
As any found within Leone’s chest;
Upon boulders centred within this field.

So I approached, aloft, pedestal-like,
And mimicking David’s marble form
Gleaming bright in the Florence midday heat,

With no less than a thousand eyes
Gazing upon his dreaming stare,
I perched and mused of my lady-fair.

While above, each star hummed
It’s distant faint tune, and twinkled
Their beat towards Earths gentle breath.

I inhaled the air freezing this night;
Into, not only my lungs,
But my heart reached over to lend her appetite.

Aided by the cool soft wind,
My voice was never the more raised
Above a lonely child’s whisper.

Thus I began: ‘I thought of how
This glorious globe, with her wondrous hue,
Is the envy of all these great spheres,

‘And to muse with the ebb
Of immeasurable times flow
Over the laments of my darling dove,

‘To relay through my mind,
All the moments I could
Have been with your willing body,

‘The many scenes I should
Have been with you. Those times
I should have said exactly

‘What I felt when you were with me,
When I possessed you
Within my gaze. I rue those chances,

‘And missed opportunities. Know that
You occupy my slumbered visions
From when sleep closes my eyes,

‘Till the birds of dawn awakens them.
And as the year closes,
Since first I kissed your smooth cheek,

‘Know humbly, within your breast,
That you were the shining beacon,
A light which guided me over stormy seas.

‘I pray, realise my words,
Softly spoken from the pages sent
To your hands, were meant for your heart,

‘And your smile, mixed with glances,
Were always a true delight
You bestowed on to me.

‘I let you bathe in my soul,
And I truly thank you,
And forever sing your name aloud.

‘I sit alone here under a chilly
Suffolk night and think
The heavens bright of you.

‘Months have fled, and ease of
My sorrow toward the sky
Is a gift I must offer for my changeless love.’

And ending, ‘Take what you wish, my dove,
But please, I beg on bended knees,
Please, do not take my memory of you.’

These words were cupped on the north wind,
While the moon spread a veiled
Duvet of polished silver over the field,

Spilling dew upon the grass
Bleeding from her sheen, moist,
Velvet sheets of liquid nectar.

Before my eyes, the grass stood to attention.
A million green-eyes begged
More from my heated pores.

Amazed; for rooted to the soil,
Adding immense weight to the ground;
They calmed their sway to my measures.

Clouds rushed over to hear, even
The rested sun-chariot peeped
Back over the forbidden western shores.

The birds of day appear, crying
A chattered song for the suns yearning.
Clouds began to weep uncontrollable tears.

As a ripple from a pond, speeds
Over the smooth surface towards
The shade of the blessed river bank,

As did a wave flow from one end
Of the field to these boulders,
And with fresh breath, these blades spoke,

And graced my ears with speech:
‘Oh soon to be spirit, we can sense
What is about to come on to you.

‘Your love, you love, with every
Drop of blood that beats
Within ones heart, we envy you.

‘Can there ever be a time,
Where eagles roar; when lions fly;
Lambs bite; or wolves graze on us?

‘Ever an instance, a time to come,
Where the moon becomes the sun,
In turn, the giver of life, the moon?

‘When the earth, herself, slows,
And rotates back along her axis?
Men born old; death at birth?

‘Hills, majestic sloping hills, iron flat?
Rivers become grain; ocean freeze over;
Skies, and air, turn to solid?

‘Science; vain in being,
Predicts too much; and beauty
Is lost forever in her words.

‘May some farm boy look through
A hole in that there fence,
And sneak a peak at me,

‘May he run to his herd and tell
The leader of the flock the sight
His eyes just bore in witness.

‘For your cries; may a sudden
Rush of blush greet your lady’s cheeks;
May her legs tremble; her hips grow weak.

‘Let the once ferocious deep blue
Calm his waves, and in his face,
Mirror the skies glorious expanse.

‘The moon; may the moon, believe
That she is not eternally alone,
Swimming in the inky black;

‘Let her study her reflection;
And fall in love with her new mate.
May the stars, count not all, shrink

‘The distance between themselves,
Place tender arms around one another,
In a much longed-for embrace.

‘Finally; may Orion, when touching
Western waters; let him relinquish his sword,
And stem the rains from the bellowing east.

‘We feel your pain!’ And they ceased.
They too, felt my joy.
For my wonderful words spun;

Mingled with undiluted wine placed in a
Golden goblet from a heart-stricken tongue;
Which lapped the chilly air while I spoke freely.

‘I knew once a sweet tender maid,’ I began,
‘And without diminishing
The daughters of this night away from you,

‘I will swiftly say she became my voice.
And as the buds burst free
From winters icy hold; and as around

‘Earths eternal prisioned orbit
Spans another of her quarters,
When the sun strikes intense onto Saharan sands;

‘I was with her, and she with me too.
She graced my songs with galloping mane
And eagle striking ***** of wind.

‘She tenderly flowed through my veins,
As any stream from high sacred fountains;
Any river that deposits into sea;

‘Any artists stroke from his brush
To canvas, that paints oil drenching
Figures of unrivalled beauty.’

I paused my strain, and glanced
At our moon, hung high; hung also;
On my every word, halting her route.

‘And with this’, I continued, ‘and your tones
You gifted to me upon these boulders,
I take this poisoned flower from out my pocket.

‘My young blood presented this to me,
Long ago; for the sun has yoked
His steeds passed four full moons since.

‘He too, my brother, calls aloft
To the tunes of music; he too,
Guides his hand to the strums of natures beats.

‘Against that aged oak, with acorns
Spread at its feet, my brother, leaning
His back to its wrinkled trunk,

‘Plucking in harmony strings which,
In his blonde presence never lay slack;
And flinging away his melodies on the breeze,

‘Spoke thus; “If any time on your travels,
A day presents itself, when you find
Yourself sitting upon those boulders there;

‘“And the moon in her glory,
Glows a frosty crystal white, and the voices
In their millions sway to your laments,

‘“Eat this; for your time has come.
One night waits for all of us and all must
Walk the path of death, and walk it only once.

‘“Look to your moon, and bade it goodbye.
Glance at the grass, and bid it adieu.
And say, above all, farewell to your lady.”
So I eat, and sing farewell my love, with a kiss.’

So once more he appears before my eyes,
And I am well aware he is no friend
Of mine, but a companion that I do not wish
To view; a companion that hovers around
In a reluctant mist; although never fails
To reveal his foul breath, his harsh whispers,
Together with his depressing stench of odour.
For I did not summon his deeds;
Never sought his favour; nor offered prayers
Nor burnt incense; nor gave from out
My own batch, the warm gift
Of wine to his altar; never in song
Have I praised his pale face,
His rotten black teeth; never bathed
My bare ankles, nor quenched my thirst,
In his poisoned waters. Yet he found weakness
Within a humble heart, an equally willing mind;
For he latched upon my soul, bearing
Fierce claws; and now, with his stealth clasp,
Arm in arm refuses to grant me space;
Feverously denies release.

Oh! How I do pray I could banish him
From my daily thoughts, my woeful strife;
For he seems present more recently
Than ever I can recall from drifting memory.
Be sure, he does not reside
On one of heavens branches; he would,
With all his deceit, be not allowed
To even graft upon the blissful airs
Most lowly of roots. His dulled stare,
Adamantly pierces through any desire
I have for the light ahead. A grey
Dusty cloak, that he wears draped
From his shoulders, like bitter winters
Shortened sun which shrouds the heavy leaded clouds,
And plunges the sky into deep sodden colour;
Saps any inspiration, which my dreams,
With kindness, revamp anew in sweet slumber.

My mission I do know sincerely, to be
Holy honest, is not entirely a struggle;
And shown before my sight appears
Respectively clear, is however, weighed
Toward the earth with added pressure
By his ****** presence alone. A strategy formation,
Delved from battlefields past, is a want
That seems out my grasp. Shall I
Soothe him with tender lyre strokes,
And with kind words may he leave my side
Willingly, at his own leisurely pace,
In unhurt peace? Why does he have such
Effect on me? How do I relinquish
Him from my sight? Shall I guide him
With me to fresh slopes of pastures green,
Showing his cruel appetite, the beauteous feast
Which bountiful Nature banquets? Do I
Attack him with all force at my disposal?
Unsheathe the sword? Balm protection
Around my clench fists? Do I ignore
His embrace which rivals a death-grip
Engineered from a lioness’ jaw, breathing
Smoke from her nostrils, clasping down
On her prey- unyielding, prey essential
To subdue pains that torment her hungry cubs?
Shall I believe him foe? How do I proceed?

I do realise with no barren shadow,
That he must be nursed into a corner,
Trapped, and halted, for if continuation occurs;
I fear Happiness, a fleeting sense,
Will never approach with ease, nor greet me
With a wave of her snowy hand, nor ever
Blush her lovely pout lips, and settle
Her most welcome custom, within my heart again;
And though my pathway be tedious,
Raised to the brim within a golden goblet
Of questioning; let my last task be this:
With a calm prayer to relight fading embers
From my *****. Kind souls, delicate muses,
Come to me, come to my aid,
Help relieve me of his burden.
Heap upon him glittering song,
Bow his cowardly head further down
From whence it came, and place
The dying mournful strains of the Swan within;
May dark unveil an ebbing stream
Of wondrous hue; let summer sun
Break through thick woods; may no shade
Shield me from intense light; let notes
Resound aloft upon high peaks;
May you pour nectar down my throat,
Place fragrant rich petals from perfumed flowers
On my tender tongue; and therefore,
Knelt before you, sister maids,
With submissive eyes gazing the hallowed ground
Beneath your feet; bathe me in tuneful grace
Once more; assist a humble servant,
Hear one solemn slave voice; for you
Will be praised within my lily-scented verse;
Forever will you be fed on my gentle honey-dew
Measure; if I only be granted solace
Within your flowing spring, deep
Between your sacred gardens fruitful caress.

Sit down, take a seat, and hear me;
If you are comfortable tell me?
For I shall begin with words to soften
Your heart, which I wish to own.
I speak to you masses with confidence
For I know that my subject is common;
But with clear and fresh tongue do search
To recite anew song of unbridled love.

Do you all know me? My muse is yours at times
Such as these, a soul such as yours;
May she, Cyprian goddess, flow through my pores,
As with many a poet before.
Her help is needed, for this world turns
And shies her back away from truth.
Lost now are all souls in love, forsaken now
Is a pure emotion for the heart.
You know this, for I speak rights that even courts
Would nay sentence. Sentence me
Though! I would gladly serve twice my life,
For her to embrace mine alone.
No iron bars could hardly hold behind them
My desire, they'll drift on the wind.
She'll hear them as they tap her door,
Funnel under, and sneak passed gaps,
Hidden from the eye and from her ear;
Within her dreams they flow to her.
May visions appear from within my words,
And although her slumbers appear light,
Cascade falling images, that when she awakes
Make her sleeps troublesome ever more.

These words I sing, my dear, you understand
Already but refuse to summit for fear.
‘Tis true our time is now, and within this
Our hour glass continually spits its grain.
Present life is still filled and overflows the brim
With faith, love and tender passion.
Be gone these modern treasures, these allures
Which cause wants of no purpose.
Give in, surrender, and commit to your feelings;
For there is no wrong in what feels right!

To you, my Emily, this little verse is sent,
As with splendour your name escapes my lips;
Is as wondrous as this sight I behold,
Relaxing upon this golden beach.
You bring me warmth that no sun, nor sand,
Nor ocean could ever duly match.
Forever will my kisses linger on your lips,
So love may wonder earth unharmed.
Without you I have clung to sickness while
My pain is joy. Take doves paired off in love
As model! Male and female a perfect match!
Ones wrong to look for limits to loves madness;
True love knows no bounds.
The sun god sooner drive black steeds, and fish
Dehydrate in dry ocean than I could
Shift my passion elsewhere; I'm yours alive,
Yours dead! All your kisses are still too few!
How many sighs toss me from side to side of the bed?
While I can not admit that you will not come.

Unique, most lovely trouble, born to make me suffer,
Your beauty shall be made famous by my books.
I saw you in a dream, my life, my desire, and tossing
On the purple waves, like every would-be lover,
I am willingly your slave! !

Mundane mind, reach high;
Imaginative wave, melancholy sigh,
Doves flaunt pigtails, smile bleak,
Bathe in thy dimples, rose petal cheek.
Release thy fire, crimson filled blood,
Streams blush; powder'd skin should
Rise past thy flesh, gleaméd eyes,
Demolish dams, shamed Venus' demise.
Remembrance past, thy joyous face,
Heavenly muses, divine beauty embrace.
Formed angelic, ‘thy figure mould' said
From flower-scent, primrose soft bed.
Voice of a lark, nestéd a new,
Woman perfection, exist but few.

The mighty Atlas, father of those seven sisters,
Bears the weight of heaven on his broad shoulders.
And even one of the brothers three, lives eternal;
In Chaos realms, Tartarus' black abyss, in which
No soul returns, to gaze upon life's light once more.
Although, forgive me, I lie; a few, a few selected,
Have returned from amidst heavy woe, pushing
Down their sorrows. Orpheus ventured,
With sweet song, motherly ordained and with divine,
Unrivalled skill on his lyre, seduced Hades himself.
I too, challenge his great powers; and with her skirt
Flapping with speed, ride on Auroras saffron chariot,
Cooking the sky's dark covering wings, to a baking red,
While the sun gallops up, stampeding behind our cart.
I play, not keen, to act the fool, and lay these pale ivy
Laments in front, which my lips have yet not touched.
I place you in the centre, forests following, clear streams
Flowing as crystals sway on its surface; and yet,
I have not put them to my lips; but keep them by.
I praise not this, but sing, because together we sit
On this soft green grass; now the woods are leafing,
Now the year is at its loveliest, the cheeky girl
Pelts me with apples. Presents are laid up for my Emily,
I myself have observed where doves make their nests.
I'll pick ten apples, picked from a woodland tree,
And for you, I'll pick ten more tomorrow.
You breezes waft a word or two to the gods' ears
And to my pure white seraphim, for her to hear.
I love my angel most of all, for when I left,
She wept and said ‘So long, love, so long.'
Wolves are sad for the folds, rain for the crops,
Gales for the trees, and Emily, me for you.
I love my muse, let him who loves you share your paradise.
Let honey flow from him, let roses blossom
From his pores, to pick flowers and earth born strawberries,
To dip you, in springs of tears myself. My love is ruinous
And the sky extends no wider than my heart.
Say, in what lands the flowers inscribe your name,
The name of goddesses; for who fears the sweet,
Or feels the bitterness of love; let them drink their fill.

You had heard, and so the story ran. From where
The hills begin to rise, and then sink the ridge
In a gentle *****, down to the waters edge. Who would
Strew the turf with flowery herbage,
Or curtain the springs with green shade?
Who would sing to the Nymphs?
Can any man be guilty of such a crime?
Singing swans shall bear aloft to the stars,
Heifers browse on clover,
And swell their udders, to my song.
The Pierian maids have made a poet,
But, however, I trust them not.
I sing nothing worthy of my Emily;
Cackle as a goose among melodious Sparrows,
And here by the flowing streams,
Earth scatters her varied concaved hues;
Here white Orchids bend over cave,
Vines weave shady bowers.
Come to me; let the wild waves lash the shore.
You've heard me singing alone,
Beneath the cloudless night. My measure bathed
In loves sway; do you keep my words?

Why art, do I gaze at old constellations rising?
The stars to make fields glad with corn;
And gift grape upon the sunny hills.
Time robs us of all, even of memory; oft as a boy
I recall that song I would lay the long
Summer days to rest. Even voice itself now fails me,
Now the whole sea-plain lies still,
And eerily silent; every breath of the murmuring breeze is dead.
My last task this…, to win my dove.
Relieve me of this burden!
Can I trust my streaming eyes?
Or do lovers fashion their own dreams?

Within a room that shows me my breath,
Hairs stand alert on awoken skin,
My reddened eyes from last night's sin
Cause a smile, spreading illusion of death;

And through a double sheet of glass,
The light to my left gifts a pleasant view,
Vibrant colours cascade a wondrous hue,
That no painting in renaissance could surpass,

But does not last, and therefore, brings truth.
Vines hang their arms over weak fences,
Lovingly caressing with sweet tender kisses,
Stretching toward the ground fingers uncouth.

Tall trees reach for the stars throne,
Gallantly they stand in the background,
Alone, triumphant, and with silent sound
Hold their course like soldiers home-grown.

The industrial gloom weeps its ***** tear
And stains the window, ‘t does bear the light
Of broken branches; shining on a humble sight
Which illumes nests that Nature loves dear.

Birds build no foundation, while frosts breath
Engulfs the air, and smoke dances seductively
With heavy swirling mist, swaying her glee,
Hand in hand guides with him cancerous death.

Filthy sheep reside on the muddy fields,
Beneath blankets of the olde English cloud,
Hovering above cemented land over-ploughed;
Those show very well what modern age yields.

No rain, no subtle cry from heaven.
Long gone in retreat the grass of years past;
Sailing away over the horizon the ships mast
Which traverses the wild unknown region.

No flecks of blue glimmer in the sky;
Nor orb of fiery sun can be gazed upon.
Did the morning gift Auroras dim saffron?
Did it conspire and bring dullness to my eye?

Departed too have the scented flowers;
Even fruit hides away from their cradle,
No foliage, no bramble, laurel or myrtle,
All disappeared from ever shady bowers.

Honey is not made today, sulking are the bees,
And their cousins, shy-adventure disperses desire.
Evergreens remain, remain with adamant attire,
While their foes strip away naked their leaves.

You know the tale about young Romeo
His story of love, torment and sorrow.
For what lay before him was crystal clear,
The love he held for his Juliet so dear.
The journey took passed his father and mother
The violent death his cousin would sadly suffer.
Slain revenge upon Tibult, did he doth do,
And expulsion from Verona; where he did brew
Returns to his belovéd with help from above,
A planned sneak back to his one true love.
With joyous swift pace flew to his lady fair,
A song from his soul he let off in prayer,
Laying tearful eyes on Juliet with one last kiss,
Dying for his dove in woe of loves dark abyss.

That very quiet time, yet neither day nor longer night,
Just before those mighty steeds are yoked;
Not have they stretched their necks or shook their manes,
Nor struck the sky with either eager hoof,
A mild time when the saffron queen leaves her lovers bed,
When she kisses bye his grey bearded cheek,
Like every day to return soon to rest in his arms except once;
For that day, a command reached her pretty ears,
And the words humming carrying with it a gentle breeze,
Whispering her marriage bed may remain warm.
Oh! For that time to come again, when I may be blessed,
No reddening sky would appear on to my eyes,
Nor would I be adorned with the birdcalls of the morning,
And the stars would stay on their sighted paths,
And the bright torch, her white chariot may hover awhile.

Why I would want this, dear reader, you ask.
Why would a man ever not wish the land to bathe in colour?
To not feel warmth of Apollo's light on his face,
Shrouded by damp night and surrounded by her gloomy wings?
My answer comes from that little winged boy.
From a time when his divine mother herself rose out of the foam,
Gently squeezing the water from out her hair,
A time when with a soft white hand and her tender embrace,
Made her love eternal with her young hunter:
As of from that day and the span of ten lunar months lapsed,
This naked little boy, quiver and bow to match,
With ordained skill has taut his string many a time to his chest,
And his whistling arrow has never missed its target.

For it is with love then; I bid not the amber glow from the east,
Nor the oriental globe to ascend before me.
If the burning disc of heavenly light rises a new in the sky,
I for one can never hide on my face my sorrow.
My head droops and with added weight of woe my shoulders,
Like the heavy rains that cause leaf to slump;
Fall towards the ground, because it is at this time that I know,
That I must leave my utmost joy behind me again.
Oh **** me! Aye, for any of my prayers to be duly answered,
For earths eyelid to be closed and shut tight,
For me to hold her towards me and to hear her heart beat,
To give me this one prolonged night with my love.

What would I do? Many have laid curses on the pointed shaft,
That straight arrowhead which struck them pure,
And many have spat at the ground their accursed feet walk on;
Wild love has never been a very gentle creature.
She will savagely swim in your blood and make it boil red,
Cause war with death in heated misunderstanding,
Make women pull their hair and beat their chest with moans,
And make men stream tears down their cheeks.

What can I do? Even the greatest lovers are left with woe,
Do I content myself with her blush as I kiss her?
Leave unhappy and imprint a smile on my face that's dishonest,
And hug her falsely with lack of my true wants?
Oh **** me! Grant me this one night with my sweet delight,
Stay your golden chariot sire, as you did before,
So I may savour her not unlike you when you gazed your love,
Caressing your desire and sending her to the stars.
Oh! To have within me powers to control those three sisters;
Those talented three in which they create life's path,
With sped fast supple fingers, they do spin their wheel around.
The ability to weave and thread as if like they do,
I would entwine my thread with yours, fuse together our weave,
And with Fate forever cross mine with your own.

Fresh morning leaves droop over branches,
As light dances with duet mood in the flickering blue;
Reflecting, saying ‘hi', as my eyes reply with a squint.
Birds in shadow with divine annoyance, chatter wild scenes
Not asked for, heard through the night.
Apollo lovingly embraces all I see
Motherly caressing, hugging fatherly,
Everything in view; turning his soft
Impacts into wondrous colour that reality
Deems too true. Yet none, I say,
Sing; produce your face, a pure as snow white
Face; lips blushing berry red with
Summers tender kiss and her gentle growth.
Humming a scent that velvet violets, surrounded
By golden daffodils, in which, a lone
Bee sups his ambrosia; swaying to and fro,
This way and that with a mysterious power drawn;
To his home, dropping a honey so sweet, sipped
And tasted, creates no sense if sense
Could ever your skin copy. Low waves,
Breathed from energetic wings, waft
Perfume upward, towards the heavens,
Towards it travels and down they look, all,
An elegant goddess, elegant as earth's season
Giving spring, birth of labouring waters
From winters devilish bite; they do gaze
And notice undoubtedly your dazzling sheen.
Hungrily grasping, as turtle-doves swoop
To gather her nest, before the break of storm.
Upon this soft green grass I pray, you lay
With me; humbly offered; while
Bellowing clouds creep forever near,
Thirsting for you to be returned to
Your throne, imbedded between the stars.
To lift you up on cupped hands
And to sleep dreamingly, residing you go.

Around, the fiery source of life spins,
Once more, eradicating all the sins,
From the night which has come- then,
Gone; like a mothers warm hand, when
Plunged into water seemly to baptize
Away the sleep from her child’s eyes.
I turn as with the sun, toward the fable,
Mount Helicon, where many a label,
A measured beat, and a lovely tone,
Where many a doting poet came alone,
To catch sight of one of those sisters,
Bathing, singing and telling in whispers,
Of beauteous stories of ancient past,
Or offering inspiration to those who asked.
But those nine of the Lord of Thunder
I no longer seek blindly in wonder.
For my muse comes within my mind;
She with grace and, beauty hard to find,
Prances playfully in that sacred stream
Solely by herself, and radiates a gleam
Of tremendous visions, of happy scenes,
Of all the joys possessed within human beings,
And further, gifts wondrous coloured hue
To anything I wish to with leisure view.
Whether it be the trees swaying by the hedge,
If it be the roses growing around the ledge,
On some family home that know not I gaze;
Or even if those same winds which blaze
Upon the savage shores, wreak destruction,
Cause turmoil and tumult and deadly confusion;
I am able to speak in such tender lays,
For she presents them with her calming rays
Of ivy strokes, and of gentle meadows kiss,
For I eternally thank my delicate muse for this.

High upon the snow cover'd mountain,
Due fully hear my pitiful cry of prayers,
Delicate delightful muses, guide the mind dear.
Toward a no limit of cloudless sky,

I draw my gaze upward the distant long summit
Knowing bright heavenly eyes will appear,
And graceful beauty's light will bathe my face.

So listen for my roars lifted aloft, high
Upon the hot airs breath, which the Southern
Wind pants onto deserted Egyptian sands.

The jutting rock face sheered the endless blue,
Cutting glass deep into the desolate heart
Of the lush green landscape in view.

Jagged rough terrain, damp dewy moss, and loose
Boulders, which caused even balance to
Hesitate with every gentle step I planted.

The unending toil brought worth of gold in sweat,
Was every bit treasured, the burning
Limbs, sliced hands, and sodden feet exhausted.

For the wreath prized reward that will be presented
With feather gift of wisdom and honey memory;
A stomach full appetite would gladly ask for more.

I have approached this tall mount once before,
Have with fragrance occasionally heard hymns
Drift scented perfumes from the peaks above.

I have only been divinely blessed by whispers,
Only borrowed the glistening tune of silver,
Stolen measure of sapphire that were not my own.

Time of grains fallen now guide my soft hands;
Time of sun turning has come where ones heart strums,
And pulsing veins swirl their flows with warm blood.

So on I precede, strive of warrior courage.
On I climb with bloomy soul, a need for dreams
Of swollen mists to shroud my ever eager strain.

Unlock your latch of bolted chamber doors,
Raise and listen for my foot steps tenderly
Strode upon your morning dew welcome path.

Lead me kindly through your sacred dance
Which forever gloriously plays the lyre
Upon stories of ancient pages from winged truth.

I faint within your immortal presences abyss,
And dullness' black sleep engulfs my vision.
I feel your breath breathe kisses onto my lips,

Fresh spring of flowers stemming new buds
Fill my deflated lungs to the brims edge
With pure white smoke of graceful voice.

My journey, although hard of adamantine stress,
Fulfils the purpose of raging rivers torrent
And spits words with sprinkling showers to my work.

I feverously search the coastline for angels;
Now I ascend peaks of prisoned rock for answers;
Swim the waves of grey Ocean; fly in motionless air.

For every gaze that catches your chestnut eyes,
Every sly serpent that hides scales in covered shadows,
You cure deadly bites from diseases staring into sin.

My love petal soul exists within yours lily white,
As peerless charms sow with green fingers of vine,
They entwine this summit, embrace and inspire;
Within the songs of floating glory, they resound eternally.

Who tends these flowers, sweet maiden of mine?
A soft touch do you use, or do you cut
Your stems deep? In Athens garden; along silvery waves,
Even poppies, even the dewy tamarisks, duly inquire.
And I'll pluck you, O laurels, and you neighbouring myrtle.
I beg your pardon; open your gates, fling wide,
My delicate Muse, speak those stories you
Gently gift, memory, your forte also; for a poet,
I am your poet; unmask hard effort to vision your eyes.
A burdening task to cause clouds to weep, weep too
The drooping lilacs, crimson roses even bow
Their leafy heads towards the soiled earth.
Damp Nights bright torch visits her love
On the Oceans depths; abandoning her steeds;
Eternal sleep covers eternally his punished eyes.
Too much; too much do I miss of swimming
In your chestnut pools; which my sight always loved.
To bathe in clear springs; on either side, to be touched on
The temple by sleeps ivory wand; too drift into dreams.
Do you tend this garden, lovely young girl, is it you,
Who gently prunes these thousand petals, Emily?
An essence divine, for you, the Nymphs perfume the air
Like these flowers; baskets full, you care for. Let
The woods beyond all else please you and me. May
Your powers, my casualty, last long: till the burning sun,
Sees conquered love underneath his blue skies.

Raining violets down upon her sleeping eyes,
Is that sweet dream that hides behind my cries.
And since Amor takes my sails so suddenly,
As if my life is being taken away from me,
It seems that only a single spirit respectfully stays,
Here it remains for it speaks of her tender ways,
Of how she bade me strength in my solemn wish,
My courage is drained, and my face as pale as this;
My dove to save me, as I lift my eyes on her gaze,
My heart begins to tremble caught in loves blaze.
I'd tell her as soon as I imagine her miraculous beauty,
So quickly the desire to see her, powerfully seizes thee,
As swift, from my pulse my soul departs and flees,
To search for my angel, with caressing gentle pleas.

Ta-whit Ta-whoo
Ta-whit Ta-whay
The owl looks down the rabbit's way
Rabbits are quick
And for life they'd better run.
For thy earth revolves eternal,
Till all deeds are done.

Ta-whit Ta-whoo
Ta-whit Ta-whay
That figure on the branch seems to say
The night is minus
Feel it? Jack prepared to bite.
Shroud cloaked of coldness
Envelops my presence tonight.

Ta-whit Ta-whoo
Ta-whit Ta-whay
Oh joy, it's moved, it wants to play
Where has it gone?
That figure by the tree doth stand.
Wait! I know that touch,
Its gentle earth's death-hand.

Ta-whit Ta-whoo
Ta-whit Ta-whay
The owl cursed me, Ill not see another day
He ushers me to the tree
I feel my stale last breath has come.
Knock-knock! Awake! In bed?
Oh mercy, how-dumb!

Hey, my kitchen angel,
Eyes of ocean blue,
Dream from the depths of sleep,
True vision of sweet you.

My time is free tomorrow,
The day I clear have off.
My prying glance you may notice,
As I grab from our staff trough.

Your break I want
Your time I need!
Spare no extra minutes,
To these ***** you must feed!

Now, i'd love to see you beforehand,
For me, it would bring total bliss.
Pics of your night with a diva,
Long for, I do, from the girl I'll miss.

Gracias! My sweet queen,
Phone them I will, with time I mean.
My depression hit an eternal low,
Tell mother about the death of Smokin' Joe!
Spirits flew high, like doves over land,
As Reid's b'day approached, hourglass passed sand.
May slow trodden time, stream like water,
Till my family I see, especially my mother's daughter.
Drinks we'll down, laughs out loud,
Await Cyprus heat, to lift this winter shroud.
My messages are short, but believe openhearted,
Endless folds of love, since the day we parted.
Kisses to all, and hugs aplenty!
Best wishes to Reid, nay, the whole family!

As with my now aged right hand, like myself,
Which, has passed two plus thirty years,
With an admiring eye, scribes on this very paper,
An unobserved marvel never witnessed.
So, my maid, once again with warmth come to me,
In front of this light, portray sweet grace,
For it is only with outstretched hands for your lips,
That I may relate this true wonder to thee,
And beg for your divine voice to guide my song;
Therefore, fly pleasure, through my words.

To sense Shame; bathing in your pumping blood,
Happily creating ripples with her feet,
Paddling in and around the heart, is no new flavour.
For many, she stirs waves of embarrassment,
Then it is for the many, I speak loud of my often guest;
Just like stars on high without yet names,
I arrive upon a view I feel I should have seen anon,
Commented on at least; sung about maybe.
For it is against evil Shame that I beg you bring arms,
My pure delight, tender maid; aid me true.

A new fallow rose, for sure, I've gazed upon as a child,
With its attire of a sweet kiss in the air;
The ever-blossomed rose I have attached to my love,
And passed on to many a dainty girl;
As death of the crimson flower gently floats its petals,
Withering to the ground, I confess; have seen.
However, one single rose, from bud through its prime,
Charging towards its fair scent-lost end,
Within Time itself, for it had barely blew its wind,
Shame holds me, ‘cause no; I've never seen.

Paradise of happiness in beholding the closed maroon shell,
Till bursting its petal like an exploded nebula,
From almost the sheer weight pulling its outer most parts,
Away from itself, barely remains on its stem.
Like this rose, my ***** grows similar to the scarlet flower,
Beginning to drink the breath of a new life,
Ready to, eager to bloom, for its time had not yet come,
Waiting of its own accord to spread its wings,
Stretching out petals and opening its beauty towards the light,
Heaving with fragrance over an allotted time.

And echoing this rose, when within its prime of days,
Wills wonderfully; the whole world to view,
As too the heart; growing from a bud to flowering true;
Not once does it wish to hold and remain quiet,
For a complete desire, bids to be cherished and gazed upon.
Alas, as rose and heart walk hand in hand,
They are either picked by a love, gifted and treasured,
Or like my rose here flow their course;
Just as the sun traverses many a time across its path,
Seas accept the cascading mouth of a river,
Slowly, although gleaming with life, outshines the full moon,
Sheds its warmth and undeniable beauty.

The unseen had now become seen, and with my vision;
Shout to pluck a rose whenever passed,
For it wants to be picked; and place an image in a heart,
And its aroma in the memory of love.
For to delay and admire, such as I idly did with mine;
To stare in awe as the hourglass ticks,
Without never realising; ruins and destroys the very ecstasy,
In which you stand with joy watching.
Imploring your help, I banish Shame savouring my blood.
With your song, you cheer to peck the rose,
The flush rose; and display for all the worth it contains;
The unimaginable love for what it is,
And the heart, and your passion will forever thank thee;
For I thank thee, for revealing me my love.

Pluck two feathers from cupid's wing,
Fly, bring thou thy muses I sing.

The warbled sung, that lark on high,
Tracing thou name; through dots on frosty sky.

Echoes blow clouds, reveal white torch bright,
Light love blinds, in cold Suffolk night.

Hail! For eastern far, amber dim glow,
Open earth's eye-lid, as colours over dark flow.

Till the veil touches peak, high'n mount Helicon,
Floats on mirror'd water, beauty of the swan.

My unbroken chain, mingling heart with heart.
You I cherished, embracing with all my heart and soul,
As though a ****** bride; even as Elm loves vine,
Sharing coeval branches, twined foliage,
Praying for bountiful autumn, rejoicing to be wreathed
In the beloved clusters. Women who lack the moral
Virtues are praised for their gift of beauty;
They have the false esteem, but lack the true.
Your birth was splendid, your aspect pleasing
As I could desire; but greater the dignity
That came from yourself-to cherish one flame.

If I offer the wealth of Babylon, the weight
Of Lydian treasure, the potent riches of Indian
And Arabians; belief would she rather die
In chaste poverty, paying life for reputation,
Armed bands, lightning fire or the hazards
Of mid ocean for her love? I fall through
Liquid air that bear laurels of my dove,
Outstripping the sun in her heated flight,
Beneath Atlas' daughters in mid sky

Due care towards dismay'd vain,
Flattering smile of mine fake in disguise,
Humbled pledges gather love again,
Take leave, fly, depart happy my prize.

Song of Calliope soothe lo hearts disdain
O muse! O muse! ‘scribe my pain.

Guide my hand, produce scented rhyme for thee
I enquire divine, create a note for me.

Form sounds, ruffle the air, breathe my voice
Aurora's mysterious brown eyes condemn this choice.

This pain of joy, weaved deep, within an enchanting fairy,
Concocted potion, drunk from the lips, of my dove heavenly.

Again, hello my smooth tender Suffolk maid,
What do you have there in your woven basket?
Would you like to listen to a dainty rhyme I made?
If with a lovin' pinch of salt I ask it?

I know you know, of course you know,
That I would walk with you where ever,
Plough through wind and rain even deep slushy snow,
My heart with warmth gives in any quite such weather.

To hold your gaze with sweet subtle words,
For you to answer with your so kind voice,
To walk your figure passed heifer own'd herds,
Talking together brings into being sunbeam rejoice.

To grasp your arm mild, to clench your hips tight,
Begging gentle kiss of mine to dazzle your cheeks rosy glow,
Never could scholars ink descript such a devout sight,
As to my song express'd could never, your beauty, show.

O Baba Reid, this day is truly yours;
I send this song towards Paphos shores.
So on the wind hear my dewy Rhyme
That praises your birthday in measured time.
To me, you are but one of a kind,
And I have in this card combined
A message for you within my strain,
Which no family member would complain
To what I am about to say:
Have a wonderful fifth birthday;
You God-**** little terror.
You are a blessing in disguise,
No one in the heavens with bluer eyes,
Is as beautiful, nor sweetly fairer.

Happy Xmas, hello to all
May my tidings to you ring tall!
Santa's comin' silently my dear,
May I gaily wish you a new year?

Merry chants sing from my heart,
This seasons cheer playin' its part,
Miss you; you know I do, around this time,
But hey,
Let my blessings greet you, as Christmas bells chime.

Down my cheeks, bitter tears incessantly rain
And my heart struggles with convulsive sighs.
However, when I see that gentle smile again;
That modest, sweet, and tender smile arise,
Lost in delight is all my torturing pain;
It pours on every sense a blest surprise.
Though well you read my heart and knew
How much I longed your charms to view.

While I concealed each tender thought;
Your face, with pity was sweetly shown.
Within that beauty, my fond mind sort
That love, which made your passion known.
Your sunny locks were seen caught short,
Nor smiled your eyes like a precious stone,
And behind a misunderstood cloud retired,
Those beauties, which I most admired.

My flows proper throne is that adorable face,
At times escorts her ‘mid the muses fair;
And so swells in me the fond desire apace,
As each, their beauty is than hers less rare.
So high and heavenward when my eyes do trace,
I say ‘my dove! In grateful memory you I'll bear'.
Yet unsung, sweet maid, your beauties should remain,
Pleasing, within my heart, as none shall ever please again.

Let me tell you of a sight that I saw,
As I woke from tender sleep;
‘Twas a sight I've never seen before,
Did very near, make me weep.

There before me, shining in the blue,
Hung the moon, a pearly white;
‘Twas believe not in the late hours, too true,
However, was there, beaming as bright.

My weary eyes, fixed high upon its face,
Strange wonder I had found,
My tired head I scratched, just in case
My breath, made that sighing sound.

Alas! it did, and do you know why?
Come! Come! It's the moon we know.
Although hung high, in the blue sky,
It made me remember my woe.

Our little dream, which I think we share,
When the moon, it is, we see,
I'll promise to think of you, I swear,
My desire, my dove Emily.

Awaking from sleep, I was so glad,
Content for a sunny day;
But this disc in the blue made me sad,
Thinking of that time in May,

When like this moon, ill gaze upon you,
Like a vision from heaven supreme;
Warmth engulfing me through and through,
And joyous tears to fill a stream.

To embrace you close, to hug you tight,
My want, too never let you go,
Because In my heart as try as I might,
To another you belong, I know.

I fill my thoughts with dream and hope,
And implore you do the same.
For surely love, in paradises grand scope,
Won't play with me a sick game.

I close my eyes, appealing to the breeze,
I'm a fool, an idiot, am I?
Your scent etched deep like a deadly disease,
My chanted love will she ever reply?

I often think, to live within humble means,
Never, I deserve such a beauteous grace,
A fair woman that even in my wildest dreams,
Imprints an image I can not erase.

The form of my angel, as if you were present,
Appears before my watery eyes,
Your absence elevates my bereft discontent,
Of he who has you for his prize.

To have eyes, I feel, is to be not a crime,
‘Twas not my fault you were viewed,
But punishment is bestowed upon my rhyme,
And now eternally you'll be pursued.

That moon I saw before me, has gone,
But what a sight my eyes beheld.
Within the bright hue it just couldn't hold on,
With loves pain my heart swelled.

Diana's moon chariot and her lovely steeds,
I'll always worship, as if a new;
‘Cause her sister Ceres she plants her seeds,
Within my heart, and it bleeds for you.

When you enter my mind, I can forever write,
Praying my words effect my muse;
To weaken your heart, however so slight,
Let me walk in your lovers shoes.

So I'll take this fight, which many have lost,
Against the hurtfulness of love;
I want you though, and believe at any cost,
Even to die inside, for my dove.

This melody ill leave, which I have sung,
Oh to wake up beside your figure,
Is that dream of mine and my sweet tongue,
My lord I grieve, I believe I adore her.

Just like this moon, my song fades,
Into this pale sky of blue,
Take my words, the fair of fairest maids,
‘Cause guess, they truly say ‘I love you'

My argument is this.., why blow so strongly wind?
Why are your gusts overly fierce today?
Do you pick on that what I most love and cherish,
Or are you hurtful just by being?
Leave one calm sky over my head, hang that blue
Over awhile longer, as I softly rest,
Relax, and contemplate my loving pink rose.
If you do not yield your wrath,
Cease your anger in swirling gulfs of air
Which no leaf stood chance alone;
Or a streams face bracing her efforts with stern
Fingers grasping to her waves;
But release they do; with all fainting efforts
As reflected sweat trickles down her brow,
And copies the drops with ripples all their own.
Now blemishes appear here upon her still!
If, I pray, you do not relent from your rough blows,
My shoes will be wrapped for journey!
My coat will be awaken'd from its hung-slumber
-Being jolted from its use-too sleep!
I would, believe, find those temples where sacrifice
Were slained for the immortal Gods,
Where the white bulls neck detached from his body
Without immense Natures full consent!
Those times where our pleas were heard by willing ears!
There, will your harsh-harrowing halt!

Fling wide, my Emily, the doors of the High Ones
And fill with garlands the temples of clouds
And the breathing entrails of beasts. Let not
This sad soul, in isolation, surround your altars;
Let fellow hearts over land beloved
Of gentle green and hilly region, dear to my heavenly god,
Raise them to your benignant *****. Let black
Envy get her fill, turning her malicious breast elsewhere.
Do we not all live under one sky?
It happened as I wandered idly at sunset
In spacious enclosure, for my lyre lay limp
With strings slack. No melody, no bird of song
Came comfortably to my bed; lay aside my lyre.
Small to the eye but huge to the sense,
Marvellous in measure, my vision fain to cry.
So mighty the deception that makes
The small figure large! Rejoicing from the heart,
With you at my gaze, I happily drink nectar!
Hurt without knowing and refrain I beg.
My wings fly, and loss for all time will be my wound.

1.
Travel through the woods on a summer's day,
Worries of daily chores dream endlessly away.
Captive not, are we from natures luscious breast
Soak within Apollo's warm oval'd gleamin' crest.
Captive not, as mother earth, weaves her sorcery spell,
Whistle with the wind to hear where hedge-sparrows dwell.
The passion'd view before my eyes, I restrain from weep,
For court'd law, Satan'd, bathes us in shrouded deceit.

2.
Draw the air sacred belongs to every breath,
Lack there of faith, time, now, life and death.
Makes a-wonderin' in the wood on a summers day,
Bring Milton's sirens; sing their note to the authors sway.
Five senses, being, soul, was gave human-kind,
The Zephyr bids the breeze to flutter the leaf, forces blind.
Let the trees reach high, those clouds few crawlin' slow over blue sky,
Gaze upward from a-new clearing I found, now where I lie.

3.
The song I sing you from the lazy day of today,
Brings forth illuminous colours from this wood in sunny May,
To show us all the mundane lack of our own lives,
Livin' the pressur'd tasks of Henrys forsaken already wives.
To stress surely not, about obvious waste of things,
Can't you see Constables paintings of what nature brings?
The absolute amazement, of how everyday hits our eye,
To leave an imprint, however deep, as stars roll by.

4.
Humming the tunes of Virgil, Dante, Chaucer and Keats,
Washing your bliss with the strums of nature's beats.
Scrubbin' this modern life's hectic ebb and flow;
Where's the wonderment gone from this wood'd meadow grow.
Simple treats of sweets greet our presence every time,
We open our thoughts, our minds, and enter into sublime.
Stories are told, heard, forgotten, written down;
For so this earths beauty be not dismiss'd, for worth of a crown.

On cushioned leather, gently he sits warm;
The window pane faces outside a stirring storm,
Slashed by the whip of rain; protected and cosy
And on imaginative waves, he set sail for Poesy;
Ravelling loose the canvas towards the sky.
With puffy cheeks heavy clouds shed tears,
They grieve wailing cries of moan to tremble ears.
Lightning flashes their woes within his eye,
While Nature's war rages with immense force on high.

Walls built from grimy hands, mother his being;
And with clever mind radiates, heating his breathing.
Ruled by ferocity the wind reveals cold night,
But with tuneful company, his fire burns bright
Miles from the poverty of a starving child,
Which suffers the chilly bite too often; bitter hunger
Greets no fresh grain. Releasing strikes of thunder,
The storm brews the air savage and wild;
At that moment he was well-aware Fortune on him smiled.

So, safe, he stroked the lyre, and with chaos outside
Creating swirling motions of a rodeos hectic ride,
His muses appear, gifting comfort with song; snug
And peaceful, their tender beats, present a loving hug
Which to his soul, stretches far away from harm.
Swiftly his notes return with pace, showing illusion
That duly-matches the flaming intensity of the sun,
When it gallops heaven, in handsome charm,
Bringing with it, searing light, no fear for any alarm.

His gentle maids move him, but weak was his heart,
Deep within his breast, sweet tunes told of Loves art;
No matter where you reside human trouble exists.
Standing close by, a figure as real as Styx's mists,
Touches his neck; he feels stench Ignorance's creep.
Down his spine, all over, upon his shoulders
Add to strong weight, mimicking the boulders,
Which must be pushed aloft on ridges steep
On mount Purgatory; and finally th' storm makes him weep.

Thousand thunderous tones continuously smash walls,
Shouts, the constant shouts of deafening pitch shriek.
Echoing vibes loudly quiver mimicking tyke calls,
Make living conditions unbearable here so too speak.
As passing hours swoop by, vision of pale white cheek
Creates an environment within endurable in a mind,
Still even now understands not why I left you behind.


Those memories, that we are thankfully blessed with,
Too simply close your eyes lie back and fly away.
All the recounts of stories, song and a ye' old myth
Held on a tip and flung just as quick the tongues sway,
Gently fluttering the air in a kind of a childish play.
Towards my god, I humbly give thanks so I thank.
Within my heart, all memories of you I gladly drank.


Prime flowers spray their scented aroma over green,
Whilst the honeybees hoard yellow buds of ambrosia.
Encircled by sweet tender winds and sun shines sheen,
Bathing light duplicating your lips of the genus rosa,
My lovin' breast heaves fondly with warmth of Jehovah.
Fading squalls diminish dreaming emphatically of you
Opportunistically implorin' to sweep up your essence hue.

From the first day when I beheld you,
My vision blessed,
Never will my song fade
Or relinquish my quest;
To follow in verse your beauty,
For my artist will create mightier notes than this,
As my trumpet blows,
A dazzling flame for love,
Burns my candle bright:
My rose of paradise.

You weave a web of pure emotion around my heart,
When I am holding you, I swear I'm bathing in silk.
I eternally thank whoever crossed our paths,
For I am undeniably joyous that I found you, my dove.

Am I permitted to lament my questions?
Allowed am I, to worry over mundane thoughts?
‘Tis a possessed yearning, a heart that would die
For the battle; offer my throat, and plunge
Me to darkness! Who would seek perfection
Once your gaze is met? All that nature yields,
Or art could add, dims my eyes with tears,
Loving madly your soul and body.
‘Tis a natural paradise, within all my pleasure lies;
You are the envy of all women,
An amazing beauty, amorously thanking myself
For ever meeting my eyes light.
I sacrifice to the gods, make this hour fly swift;
So once more, my love, I may grasp within my arms!

Now I know it is your birthday soon,
So here, all my kisses, now until then.
Love you, adore my hearts little room
That holds you forever, an angel above women.

The moon sneaked a peek, remembrance of a smile,
That joyous face, which warmed seas, the Nile.

Distanced stretched between my Emily and an embrace,
Love, worship, once more to see your enduring face.

This burden I carry as I wake from my sleep
Your birthday celebrates a fair lady;
Friends some dismiss, some keep.
You, as you know, I've hailed clearly,
Emily, you are an angel, for me.

Let us, my dove; just rub along as planned,
This is the place for the clever pipe to sound.
Should I be ashamed to live content with one girl?
If this be an offence, the offence is loves.
Let no one blame me- Emily, please to share
A dewy bed on mass clad heights;
There, you shall hear the sisters nine haunting
The craggy rocks, and singing the sweet
Thefts of old world Jove. How he burned for Io.
But if there is no one, who ever can
Beat the youthful wingéd ones taut weapons,
Why am I alone guilty of a crime all share?
Their chorus knows what it is to love!
Shall I suffer the holy Ivy to wreathe my head?
You allow me to pluck down the stars by hand!
For without you, my Emily, my heart is powerless!

Hey my Suffolk angel,
Eyes of a dreamy hue,
Haven't heard off you for ages,
Thinkin' of you too true.

As I go through the movin' stages,
Wantin' to read my pages,
Can't bare these silent phases,
Where is my ‘how do you do'?

Oh no! you're not forgettin',
Our laughin' and our walkin'?
Please remember our fun talkin',
And the kisses I laid on you.

So how has been your week?
Is the weather still so bleak?
Can't tell you how I still seek,
Your hug my sweet honeydew.

I'll leave this rhyme I'm ‘scribing,
The gods I am a bribing,
‘Cause my heart is all a sighing,
With this song my tongue a-grew!

Have a good day ‘my dove Emily',
Kind hellos from ‘your Lee-Bee',
Awaitin' the time when I see thee,
You know I would die for you.

I hear the birds a tweet,
Dreaming of you so sweet,
From top to your delicate feet,
A more beautiful vision than any I knew,
Did you fall from the sky so blue?
I truly do adore you

To cheer you up, I'll compose,
Prepare for my rhyme,
Feel free to dance along,
It will be not a crime!

When's your break today?
Has it been hard?
Is't the same for me again
Is your time barred?

Tea or coffee,
Is all I ask?
Trying to see my muse,
Seems a tell-trying task!

If your quiffed blonde hair,
Your fair skin, heads my way,
In hope, I'll await for your smile,
In the olde Sole Bay.

What spirit drives the thunderbolts?
Whence comes the fury of the rivers,
What feeds the winds, what fount
Supplies the immeasurable ocean?
What pathway of the sun hastens
Or draws out the course of night?
Long have my own birds sung my doom,
And tears bedewed my face,
Reflecting tracks remaining in heaven,
And the zephyrs path gleams bright.
‘Tis you, forever, and always,
My true delight!

Forever, Jimi flies amongst
The golden goblets
Of the thrones Godéd
Easy to find!
Last night, saw him playin'
Engulfin' the stars, hung high,
While his pickin' prodéd
Enlightin' my mind!

Until the sun rises up from eastern seas, may I be in your heart.

May the morning-star look forth from mounted flight;
May he chase, and flick the darkened heels of night;
And send beams cast down on your smile crystal bright;
From the depths of the ocean to the furthest heavenly light,
Sweet dreams my most wondrous sight;
Tender slumbers, me undeserving of you, my true delight

I split that magic concoction my young blood, you sent me, into two parts,
Using those ancient measured scholars work of the metric.
My muses are gliding above my head like mozzie darts,
Harmoniously drenching the stars while I try start my epic.

My feelings brought, oozing through from my very pores,
That your alluring spell, you willed, spill waves of bliss.
My authors hand, the gods, creative chariots gold that soars,
This friend will nurse full known, my visions of beauty, you'd **** to kiss

Many a path, sombrely held with ever-deep regret,
Hand in hand, guides to a fair gentle maid I met:
As Frost, breathe dreams over chilly autumn evening,
When Moon hornéd beams lay fondly deceiving
Wounds of dry blood, on silent Nights shrouded sky,
And pours forth a stream of crimson coloured dye
Dazzling thy gaze, upon heavens splendour bright,
Caressing thy heart with her tender excess of light.
May great Apollo, from his rested car now bring
Aloud thy voice, tiptoed aloft, perching softly to sing,
Of sweet kisses, with laurel, to be placed on your brow,
Mingling dewy moist lips to inspire ever what I feel now.
Flame! In hearts grand chamber, waft within thy breast
A rekindled fire, in which dove wings burn loves chest.

Strength in this green abyss my poet give me,
Endurin' stale air mashed with ticks of time
Who still tombed beneath my mind with plea,
Beg, release, carry thee through field's sublime.
As if floatin' high on a cloud cushion'd white
Starrin' with hoverin' gulls cupp'd on gentle breeze hands,
Spreadin' views of meadows lush over a dreaméd sight,
To see this myself to vision myself over glorious lands.
The work of the poet not unlike scolded skin to turn red,
Touch softly the area around ruby's tender heat'd glow,
Takes my tedium with magic guile from out my head,
Soothes the burn with lotion, easin' my throbbing sorrow.
I throw, with all lovin' intent a polite gesture to thee,
For this my poet and for this throw one back to me.

‘Tis I, your Bee, whom graciously implores your thanks,
In which your sweet vision resides within my memory.
A pure star twinkling bright as any of those fiery lamps,
And with delicate tongue I write to you, my muse Emily,
For my wearied creative air, your gentle breath revamps.
‘Twas in heaven where I believed sole divinity dwelt,
Until my eyes welcomed waves lap upon their shore;
Never have my veins flowed as swift nor my heart felt,
A blazing white beauty my caress does wish to explore,
And the world spins here with sense as not like before.
While the clouds grow tall from horizons distant blue belt,
On the eastern wind, my every kiss is blown to your door.
Toward the sky I often gift a raised brow and humbly thank,
For all moments of your true pleasure in which I gladly drank.

As Mother Earth revolves,
As time immeasurable flows,
As the great Zephyr wind blows,
Until sheer beauty, delivers our souls.

Let man rest, forgive his wick'd ways,
Break, shatter'd sin, the air of Satan, seem his praise.
Let joy forever, cast its spell,
Till what we do, ends us eternal in hell.

Shine mighty orbs, feel ancient light of the past,
May my rhyme to you, warm the heart of your honour last.
Drink the blesséd wine, sip from his sacred cup,
The hour of desire, fiery dome above, have heavens always faced up?

Statius, sweet poet, accompany by my side,
While I muse quietly over my changeless love;
Come walk with me closely, matching with slow stride,
In search, for I search in vain, for my dove.
I curse just my luck, cause on this mild day,
She works, and her pretty face, seem miles away.

Past hours of recent weeks, Statius, I do tell,
Of how tender lips have spoken to mine own,
And here I sit, with you great poet, in the sunbathed Bell;
My ears have made my heart joyous welcoming her lovely tone.
So, my Emily, hear this tune, and for sure, truly do know;
That you are missed by me and my friend, much more than
My tune could ever show.

Impossible to touch and out of my reach,
Unwritten codes which warn to not breach
These laws of conduct; someone else's possession,
All their own in a mistrusted lesson;
Undeserving through many an eye. Thy quietly fear
With one life to lead, chances of kissing you disappear,
Even though you stand less than a breath away,
Honourable be; shall I leave in friendly play?
Or pursue with mother wolfs stare, a deer's kind face;
Hunting for her poor cubs in winter's bitter embrace.
Love of her young ones, her tired weary limbs drive,
Gluttony's ravenous kiss and her hungry prize.
Pushes this force to conquer starving lusts sneer,
The same power I'll use, to stalk you, my dear.

Let me count first up the dusts of Africa, and of the glittering stars,
Who would number the many thousands, of your joys.
Let the whole sky set itself against my breast, hurling meteors at my face,
And huge columns of fire, whirlwinds to **** up water,
Together with fireballs, dashing lightning at me, closing my eyes.
May the earth increase its weight, bowing down my head,
And shed rivers of tears. For I openly confess my desire, and do not hide
An honest love. In my heart, no less than in yours,
Glows the flame but deeper within; and the more I preach,
Soon my prayer will be heard; because Venus
Rewards the brave, she will never neglect us!