She is an atlas
her eyes deepest
and darkest Africa

Unfolded I hold her
tracing the source
of her diamonds and gold

In search of the motherload.

You are standing there
in that five o’clock shadow
words escape me

Blame that look on your face
everything you’ve said and
those eyes, those eyes
that penetrate fiercely

I hear your steps
cross the room unhurriedly
rapture comes in your place
bare and impatient

I am motionless
wanting to devour
the space between bodies
to let tremble and crave
take over your gift and
consume your power

Blood rushes
your hands fall heavy
as the weight of your body
spoil me in your richness
and then be still for me
let me hold you
let me hold you for hours
in the strength of a gentle, but
intolerant straddle

I want to be
                 your happy poem
    to write myself
                             into your eyes
your lips, your shoulder blades
to fall into your soul
                         and leap from there
into that heart within your heart
not known to you just yet

I want to be
                    the verse that rings as true
        as the promise of your gaze
late in the day, an uncontemplated
word
a whispered phrase which keeps
and holds and stays with you
                throughout the day

I want to be the sound
                        and smell of fresh felled rain
to stir your thoughts as you awake
                        a storm
relentless, unafraid
                       to bring your laughter
and retreat into the wants
                                      within your veins

Hello
It's me again
It's the early hours and I'm slightly drunk
And it's me again

He has the sins of his mind
Which keep him warm inside
Amidst the weary and the wasted
Such warmth keeps him alive

Restless
I've always been restless
I hate to move yet I can't sit still
Hours are endless

There is a thrush inside his head
An agony of wings
Panic beaten thrashing
A cage of singing things

Anxious
Still always anxious
Even though I've slowed right down
This edge is ageless

Laying low and watching
A million sub-plots hatching
Paranoid and paranormal
He scatters to survive

                                    By Phil Roberts