He’s young, so very young,
And beautiful.
Dark, broody, beautiful!
No fear in his eyes-
Only quiet confidence.

You fly by night
With sight of the owl,
You climb with your eagle machine,
Fiercely, conquering the night.
Skilfully, lovingly, victoriously!

Eons and eons have passed
As swiftly as swirling mists
Surround the ancient woods.

PERPETUATION

I am angry
But not at God or you
I am angry
Because I lost a war

I am desolate
But not because of you
I am desolate
Because I’ve lost before

I rage the war
Of love and lost
I rage the war
No mind the cost

Lynn.

A quick little rain to fall,
A quick little steady rush
Filters into my consciousness
And bless me with summer’s bliss.

The dough in the pizza pan
Becomes my heart.
And with my hand, my fist,
I strike it and flatten it.

I force it to change,
Plaster it into limp pancake.

With my palm I knead it,
But the pain which should ebb out,
Will not separate and flow away.

It stays inside the dough,
The flattened,
Moulded,
Hand-mangled dough!

Into  crevices  where  waters  trickle
I  let  my  soul  divide
into  brilliant  silver  threads
Along the mountainside…

And  down  below,  it  drops
Into  a  pool  so  far  beyond
Where  I  can  sit  and  seek,
Myself there-in to find.

My lips are thine
and only thine
Laced with sweet honey
and blood red wine

I slip into the languid,
Red body-warming liquid,
Sinking so slowly...
Plummeting backwards
At slow-motion speed...

Through timeless fathoms
I enter a dream of gulls
On silver wings
Flapping overhead,
Drawing out screeches

Endless screeches, mingling
With my tumbling,
And tingling
With my mumbling.
Lying in a purple sea.

Do  you  remember  when  we  walked
into  the  sea
and  on  the  ­sand ?
Do  you  remember
Liza  with  a  Zee
as  if  she  was  here  only  yesterday?

And­  the  people  
in  the  ports  of  Amsterdam?
You  loved  them  ­as  I  did,
As  if  they  were  flowers
someone  had  forgotten to water.

The  moments  with  you
were  the  moments  in  my  life ­ 
I  could  scarcely  forget
even  if  I  tried  to  shove  them
­into  some  dusty  hideaway  corner.
                            ­            
How  many  times  have  I  remembered,
after  forgetting  for  so  long?
As  the  wind  would  blow  an­d  stop,
and  blow  again  some  day.

And  do  you  remember
the  seabird  overhead,
trying  to  tell  us
something  about  l­ife.

With  his  voice  full of  anguish
and  loneliness-longing …
flying  high,
flying  into  realms  of  seagull  joy.
Inviting ­ us  to  join  in  heart
as  we  watch  from  far  below.

Oh  misty  green  beauties,
your  branches  sway
in hazy softness,  sadly,
against  your  black  bark .

What  do  they  understand  
Of   your  deep  mysteries?

They  don’t  even  notice
Your  simple  serenity,
or  feel  the  injustice
of  your  pain!

When  you  fall  to  the  earth
in  silent  submission
your  heart  is  seared,  
your  agony  spilt  to  the  sand,
in  an  unacknowledged  sacrifice.

Falling  leaves,  
a  gentle  shroud  
of  smouldering  fire,
stirring  pallets of colour
upon  the  face  of  the  earth.

Anticipation
is a seven-year-word,

Annihilation
is a double-edged sword,

Necessitation
is forgiveness untoward.

You who are the extension of my being
are not here,
are pretty much not ever anywhere…

You who are the fruit of my existence
have fallen,
fallen short of love’s persistence.

Dawn  in  the  sky                                                                          
is  an  opening  book,
as the  fetters  of  dark
gather  themselves
unto themselves.

Softly  fleeing
like  the  fluttering  wing
of a  gentle  dove.

We  are  the images on  cold  grey  walls,
clinging  to  that  which  is  long  yet  past.
Meaningless, fruitless  and  hopeless  we  are,
pitiful  shadows  forever  to  last .

Time  exists  where  nothing  else  can …
what  has  become  of  a  race  called  man?
Among  the  ruins  the  wind  will  ever  mourn
and  we  are  the  shadows  so  forlorn.

Beckon the swallows sweetly,
With a voice filled with longings
To the heavens of scented Spring.

Breakers in a misty grey sea-storm,
Spray-foam rising and tossing,
Plunging me into seasick momentum.

I ****** out white stretched palms
And throw back my head,
The salt air stings my throat.

It burns within my chest
While hanging feetless
In the storm driven billows.

I fix my eyes on the
pearly black cloudless night
and beg the stars to anchor me.

The stars reflect
Balmy nights
In the eyes
Of the lush
Summer plum
In your arms.

You are
My Summer solstice.
My Winter’s
Warmth and comfort
In twilight,
At the close of day.


Far-off places
Call and beckon,
Through yearnings
In your voice.
Your eyes glow
Of midnight embers,
Your dreams
Of spangled nights.

Show me by day
The weaver’s nest.

The night’s embrace,
Beneath Orion’s belt.

I have longed for you.

As the breeze strokes
The wide Savannah,
My  violent yearnings
Like a Summer storm,
A burnished forest
In a mellow Fall,
A soaring eagle
On a sturdy wing.

So, have I longed for you!

So sweet the smell
I cannot tell.

Is it a lily or
is it the girl
next door…

I remember nights
Close with you.

Safe in your arms,
Your presence filling
My consciousness.

Your dreams running
On the edges of mine,
Filled with riches
And contentment.

How do you resist me
When you know I love you so?
How do you say no
So easily,
so constantly
How do you always go
And just leave me be?  

Are the lies from your mouth
from your heart as well?

The lies that you give me
when you cannot tell
the secrets you guard
the fears you hold
the reason why
your heart is cold.

I anointed you with the essence
of my deepest love,
my  very being was poured into
your ultimate happiness.

My burning desire was for you
to be exalted to your best,
to be in a realm where you could
surpass mere mediocrity.

Where you could encompass the
totality of unending intensity,
feel the burning emotions
etching your heart and mind.

I afforded you more
than the Lion’s share!
With  me, you could have
walked taller than any man!

I  am  a  sight  so  sorrowful
I  cannot  bear  to  think,
what  ­little  children  feel
when  they  stumble  upon  me.

When  I  n­od  to  show  them
what  my  intentions  are,
they  turn  and  ru­n  from  me
and  watch  me  from  afar.

When  I  smile  and  bec­kon
them,  to  come  to  me,
I  sadly  have  to  see
them  cringe  a­nd  cry out loud.

When  I  beg  them  to  stop
and  listen  to  my  song,
they  look  at  one  another  
and  stare  at  me  in  awe.

Oh ­ why  can’t  they  come  closer
to  see  my  beady  eyes
a-blinki­ng  with  my  tears
wherein  my  sorrow  lies?

Oh  why  can’t  they  come  close  e­nough
to  see  my  shoulders  frail,
bent  forward  by  the  wind­
and  rain  and  storm  and  hail?

Oh  why  cannot  they  see
my­  body  hanging  limp,
a  lifeless  shapeless  pity
with  only  w­ithered  hope?

A  sad  and  lonely  scarecrow
standing  in  a  lonesome  field,
destined  to  spend  my  days
­in  endless  sorrowful  ways.

The   sea  is  forever,
as  even  now,
never  the  same.
It  stirs  and  breaks,
mends  and  unites.

From  shore  to  shore
the  same,
yet,
from  wave  to  wave
so  different.

Perhaps  it  knows
the  Why's  of  life.
Shall  I  dare  ask?
And  what  shall  I  hear?

The  fierceful  cries
of  a  thousand
seagulls  in  mine  ear!

Was it my hand
So thoughtlessly
Upon your sleeve?

Or was it when
I looked up
Into your eyes?

And my hand,
Might you know,
Was not so thoughtless
Upon your sleeve!

Rolling out into honey-coloured clouds
Above sun-drenched meadows.

Drifting into silences of amber light…
Where only the sky knows your heart.

Horizons shift willingly ever further
Promising joys and delight.

The auras of doubled wings, painting
Shadows over a mellowed earth.

The rush of wind lashing at my face,
Hugging me into submission.

While the soft drone rolls into a dance:
O! to dance with thee!

O! to hear the long forgotten ballads
Woven into magic melodies.

Music made by the gentle *******,
So swift and graceful on the wing!

July 1999 - flying as a passenger.

Sprinkle  drops  of  honey  upon  the  forehead  of  her  beauty,
Lay  upon  her  pale  skin  the  velvet  blue  of  night.
Night,  breathing  the  sweetness  of  her joyful  voice,
Night  setting  alight  with  the  sparkles  in  her  eyes.

Streak  her  hair  softly  with  the  gleam  of  the  moon,
Carry  her  feet  over  shiny  black  pebbles,
Round  and  smooth,  in  numerous  existence,
Guiding  her steps, as she moves across the riverbed.

Your head upon my *****
I will gently sooth and touch,
chase your fears and darkness
and lull you to a hush.

How dare you intrude
Into my true oblivion
And leave yet again
Only the bare traces
Of your memories.

I dream of you, even
As I did so long ago,
And it carries me
Through a day and more,
And more, I remember.

Who is that golden man in his golden cage?
Recognizing himself in the mirror of innocence,
Staring at his image until he is blind
And only sees the profile
Of his shadow on the wall.

He is so sweet,
He is so nice,
His heart is warm
And full of vice.

There lies a world betwixt,
the North pole and the South.

Even so, the South pole said:
O! to dance with thee!

Lynn.

What  vast  and  unveiled  sand  before  me  lies?

It  is  the  desert,
where  the  morning
cries  farewell
to  treacherous  night;    
willingly  fleeing  
as  dunes  set  alight!

Day  has  arrived  oh!
…  and  so  the  harsh  sun …
who  only  disappears
when  day  has  done.


So  friendly  and  mild
at  first  in  the  morn.
With  its  temper  soft,
and  kind  without  scorn.
But  when  it  sees  clearly
the  vast  empty  sands,
it flares  up  in  rage
with  fiery,  flaming  hands.


Burning  on  thorns
reluctantly  growing
like  ungrateful  creatures
to  the  sun’s  overflowing:
A whole  night  has  passed
and  naught  has  been  done!


How  cruel  can you  be,
o  merciless  sun!

I am spent, and I am quiet
with suspended longing.
My river runs low
into cold-cold valleys.

My waiting is a bird in the sky,
turning, turning. Turning
my head from side to side
with searching eyes.

A scream wells up in me,
first fills my head
and then my room,
airtight ready-to-burst balloon.

You sublimely lied to me
and then you lied some more.
You said you were not ready
as if you were before.

You took my warm intensions
and made them your soft bed.
You made your own inventions
proclaiming them instead.

I cannot answer
The beckoning call
Of your love.

Nor forget your  image
So becoming
To my mind.

I hate how this love
Stretches my heart
To leave it exposed.

I hate that I
Want you to call,
Yet should not want.

And that I
Want to be with you
But dare not!

I imagine your love
To be like the taste
Of wild-wild berries.

I imagine your eyes
To burn wildly
With fiery passions.

Your every breath
To make me shudder,
To make me yearn.

For your mouth
To gently whisper
Against my tears.

A winged beast comes rolling forth,
‘Bout twice a night or thrice or more.
With blinking eyes from south to north,
It soars afore it’s mighty roar!

In the clear crisp azure light
Of a windswept morning,
Adorning the air with an Autumn
As sharp as a clean conscience,
Winter was introduced.

We welcomed her as always,
Opened our arms and said:
“Glad you could come,
Where have you been so long?
We have been waiting. “

And she wisely answered:
“I have been to the ends
Of the earth and back,
And I have left fires burning
In my wake to warn you

Of my coming, and I see
You have gathered the wood
And closed up the windows.
Listen…the wolf is close
And the icy winds are nigh.”

“I have come to stay
For a little while only,
For I am the lullaby
To the slumbering earth
As it sleeps in oblivion.

As I leave within due time,
With twinkling eye of mine
And fingertips of frost,
Will touch the snowy drifts
And turn it back to dew.

I will brush my icy breath,
Of  mist and bleak-lit sun,
Across the sleepy moor
In strokes of gold ‘n green
And Summer’s dazzling hue “

And Winter will depart within
A fortnight into Spring.

I miss you like I miss the dew
When it turns to brittle frost,
Like I miss a summer storm
When it dissipates into a calm.

I miss the feeling of the warm
In your arms securing me.

And I miss you as acutely
As I miss the dance of fire
When fall has come and gone
And the joy of Summer is lost.