"I'm a mermaid," she said as she kissed me.
Ah! her kiss made me drunker than wine.
I'd been longing for the ocean in her blue eyes,
it was calling to the diver in mine.
She whispered, "I've got just a little bit of magic
from my home in this big blue lagoon--
join me tonight for a swim in the moonlight,
I'll make some magic for you."

The full moon was rising in Paradise
as I made my way down to the shore.
There I dove right into the water,
I just couldn't stand it anymore.
Here she comes, swimming up to meet me--
wraps her self around me like a glove.
As long as I live I never could tell
the magic of a mermaid in love.

Goddess of the crystal blue ocean,
sharing your mysteries with me.
When I'm with you I can breathe underwater
and swim beside you under the sea.
If I could stay here under the surface,
I would never go back to dry land!
Goddess of the crystal blue ocean,
Meet me here whenever you can.

The spell would be broken by sunrise,
but her "little bit of magic" was no lie.
We soared, freed by love, underwater,
free as two birds in the sky.
All too soon the sky began lightening,
the moon and the stars took their flight.
Our kisses were mingled with tears at the shoreline
where we promised to meet every night.

Goddess of the crystal blue ocean,
sharing your mysteries with me.
When I'm with you I can breathe underwater,
and swim beside you under the sea.
If I could stay here under the surface,
I would never go back to dry land!
Goddess of the crystal blue ocean,
make me a real merman.

We were two little children
with the sun on our skin,
playing naked in the water,
innocent of sin.

Acting out our stories,
our games were all in fun,
playing naked in the water
by the seashore in the sun.

We played at being heroes,
villains, crooks and thieves,
Peter Pan and Tinkerbell,
pirates on the seas!

Suddenly I'm longing
to find you once again,
to see if you remember.
Do you remember when?

Our eyes danced together,
how imaginations flew!
I've never been so happy
as when I played with you.

We were two little children
with the sun on our skin,
playing naked in the water,
innocent of sin.

Face after face after face,
they stare out at me.
I look into eyes
full of hope and pain,
fear and courage,
longing and loneliness,

and the faces,
the voices,
the yearning
are all my own.

How are we to find
the one who is looking
for us,
with that unique blend
of terror and anticipation
that makes us
their "perfect match?"

We each want to
change our subscription
to the romance channel.
No more docu-dramas,
please!

So much history,
so many angry
silent nights
The full moon mocking,
cold and distant.

Please care.
Talk to me.
Hold my hand--
Dance with me!
Be fun!
Make me laugh--
Don't hurt me.
Please,
don't hurt me!

We smile bravely for the camera,
affecting a nonchalance
that is gone forever,
and we show our friends that
we have recovered--
the surgery was completely successful!
See?

The scar is barely visible,
true.
But tell me honestly,
can you really feel life Now,
through the scar tissue of
Then?

Driving alone in the moonlight
An hour or two before dawn
Jackson Browne on the radio
Big wheels all humming along

Rounding a curve in the highway
I see deer in the road just ahead
The littlest one forgot to run
I hit her and knew she was dead

The body lay still and broken
Soft unseeing eyes open wide
Kneeling I took her up in my arms
And I sobbed, and wept, and I cried

I cried for her broken body
And I wept for her stolen life
I sobbed for all the loves I've lost
Through all the years of my life

When forced to use the public loo,
there's something you must always do:
before you sit to do your biz,
make sure there toilet tissue is.

Bloom-- where you are planted
Bloom-- wherever you may be
Bloom-- for you are Her flower
And She needs you to bring beauty
To everyone you see.

Bloom-- to brighten your corner
Bloom-- to lighten the day
Bloom-- and so become a witness
Let your gracious goodness
Show someone the way.

cops beating my door
the last strawberry now tastes
sweetest of all

One gorgeous Spring day
we gathered on my deck,
a few friends and I,
to sing and play
some beautiful music
loved by us all.

My home, on a remote ridge top
of the Sierra mountains,
offered a panoramic view.
Not a single house
could be seen--
only the vast forest
surrounded us.

We accompanied our voices
with two guitars,
a flute, and a
small harp.

As we sang,
the air grew still,
and the tall, fragrant pines
encircling the house
seemed to lean in,
listening.

After awhile we paused,
to savor in silence
the sublime feeling
created by the music.
The harpist stood her harp
on the table.

Just then,
a gentle breeze came up
and the harp began to sing
as the wind's fingers
caressed the strings,
enchanting us all
with a heavenly music
unlike anything
we had ever heard.

Would that my heart
were as that harp,
responsive to
Your lightest touch--
singing endlessly
of love.

The gentle drawl of Guy Clark's voice
beckoned me from sleep,
saying that when his father died
he'd found no tear to weep.

It wasn't that his dad was mean,
nor that he didn't try,
Guy couldn't find a worthy tear--
he wasn't yet ready to cry.

The blade was broken off the knife
a half inch from the tip.
He could almost feel its  jagged edge,
recalling that camping trip

His dad had let him take the knife
to a Boy Scout Jamboree
it was there he broke the blade tip off
throwing at a tree

That knife had served at daddy's side
when he went off to war,
saving his life in combat.
Of that he'd say  no more.

His father never said a word--
put the broken knife away.
It rested in a dresser drawer
until his dying day.

It was only when Guy's hand had found
and closed around the handle
that he knew, amid the sudden tears
Dad had loved him more than Randall.

Monica,
she said her name was.
Of course I didn't believe her,
but it wasn't important.

What was important,
when she met me
with a cheery professional
smile
at the window
in the waiting room
of Anfu Massage,
was that she was
willing
to take me by the hand
and lead me
down the very dim corridor
into a dimly lit room
with a bed
where she and I shared
an hour of
******
pleasure.

She made me feel
like a great lover
and gave me her best
imitation of passion
so skillfully
that I believed,
because I wanted to,
for that hour
that I was
making love
to my lover.

I used to agonize
and feel guilty about it,
but in this solitary
autumnal season
of my life,
haunted
by the ghosts
of loves lost,
I am grateful
for even this
sweet counterfeit.

And, yes
I revel
in her gentle feminine
warmth,
her softness,
and in the primal
connection
we make.

Somehow, it
feels like
it is keeping my heart
alive.

Along the shore
       fall the waves--
            fall
                and hiss
                    fall
                       and hiss
                          fall
                              and hiss.

Whatever this body does,
wherever this mind may roam,
my heart will always sing one song, Lord,
"You alone are my home."

Beloved One, my soul's delight,
my life, my joy, my all,
I'll listen for your silent voice,
and I'll answer to your call.
I'll listen for your silent voice,
and I'll answer to your call.

A HUGE muscular tomcat
invaded our space, ate
our sweet Stripes' food,
and looked like he wanted
to tear her apart.
Rushing in to save her
from his assault, I
chased him away and
kicked him
right in the ****
as he fled my wrath.

After my momentary
satisfaction passed,
I regretted having kicked him.
As it turned out, he won.
Stripes had a beautiful litter
of his kittens, and when I
kick him in a recurring dream,
I wake to the pain as
my foot forcefully
strikes the wall.

I need to pretend that I'm dying,
and I don't have much time left to live,
'cause if I don't do what I came here for,
I may miss this one chance that I have.

I've seen my friends go in a heartbeat,
their life's purpose still left undone.
Dear God, I don't want that to happen to me!
Help me to sing my own song.

Sometimes I can act like it's nothing,
pretending I never will die.
I want to believe that I'll live here forever--
Why do I insist on this lie?

I know that I've got to keep writing--
it's the gift that my heart longs to give,
and if I have spent my life writing
I won't care so much how long I'll live.

The way that I want to be feeling
when Death comes to take me away
is satisfied that I've finished my work,
that I've said all that I have to say.

I keep getting sidetracked by something--
when I look at it square in the eye
I see it's fear that I'm not good enough
to make a great poem of life.

You know that I want to write deeply
from the spirit of love here inside.
How can I sing when I bury my own
spirit behind fear and pride?

I know that great love and great writing
can flow from You through my heart--
I open it wide, please help me right now
To focus my life and my art.

Kate Little's "Most used words" woven into a poem.  
The words:
love remember life heart soul day cinquain kiss beautiful night
sweet man angel dream silver tears spirit words pain does gentle
hard true hope

The poem:

My vanished love,
do you not remember
the life we planned?
A vision our hearts and souls
wove together, day by day,
letters sealed with our own
cincquain kiss.

My now distant love,
how beautiful was the night
from the circle of your arms--
sweet 'tis still,
in my "man from an angel"
dream.

The lonely moon
makes a silver necklace
of my tears,
while the night winds,
once bearers of
your love's whispers,
breathe spirit words
into my shattered heart.

This careless pain you gave,
does gentle, yes,
does gentle
in time, into
a hard, true, hope.

I'll tell you a story about two young brothers.
Like fire and smoke, that's what was said.
Always together, laughing and singing,
Sharing adventures, sharing their bread.

One day these two brothers both became lovers.
Yes! They both fell in love at the very same time.
Though always before they'd shared all their secrets,
This was a secret they would not confide.

Each of the brothers went into the garden.
One picked a red rose, the other a white.
They rode off at sunset, not one word between them
In opposing directions, into the night.

At the balcony window of her father's veranda
Rosa is anxiously scanning the street
Pablo is late now, soon Hector will ride up
This cannot happen! They surely will meet!

Rosa hears hoof beats from different directions,
Riders approaching along cobbled streets.
Each bearing a rose, and a heart full of passion
Brothers no more, but two rivals that meet.

A challenge is offered and is quickly accepted.
Their swords are both drawn before Rosa can speak.
She cries out to stop them, their blood's screaming louder.
They fight like two madmen and fall at her feet.

Their life ebbing from them, they lie there before her,
Rosa is sobbing, "Oh what have I done?"
She kisses their lips, so cold now and pallid,
And sheds her tears on them, so soon to be gone.

Bending over her lovers, they whisper to her,
"Take these two roses, and plant them tonight
on each side of your window, they'll grow up together.
Our love will be with you, though we die in this fight."

That's the story he told me, when I was a small boy,
When I asked my papa of that house on the right,
With it's balcony window grown over with roses,
Twining together, the red and the white.

And each day at sunset, Rosa goes to the old church.
She kneels at the altar to say her long prayers.
Lighting two candles before the Mother of Mercy,
One red and one white rose she lays gently there.

Love flows on
like a silent song
in my heart,
in my heart.

Love comes true
linking me with you
in our hearts,
in our hearts.

Love joins all
creatures great and small
in one heart,
in one heart.

Love flows free
rivers to the sea
in God's heart,
in God's heart.

Love flows on,
like a silent song
in my heart,
in my heart.

The birds of the air are my brothers,
all flowers my sisters,
the trees are my friends.
All living creatures,
mountains and streams
I take unto my care.

For this green earth is our mother.
Hidden in the sky is the spirit above.
I share one life
with all who are here.
To every one I give my love,
to everyone I give my love.

Lips busy
kissing--
cannot tell lies

lips busy
kissing--
can't speak
angry words

Lips busy
kissing--
are a fountain
of sweetness

Drink
to your
thirsty hearts'
content,
busy lips!

Perhaps self-acceptance
   is the keystone
for bridges
   built between hearts.

If you'll be the sea cliff, then
I'll be the rollers--
breaking on your heart, oh!
ardent lover.

If you'll be my snow field, then
I'll be your Spring sun--
hot clouds of steam rising
when we are done.

Then I'll be your fog bank, if
you'll be my wetland--
secret caresses from
velvet-soft hands.

If you'll be my seabird, then
I'll be your night breeze--
lift you in ecstasy
over deep seas.

Then I'll be your night sky, all
swimming in moonlight--
lighting your way to my
heart here tonight.

The Giver is greater than all of His gifts,
The Giver is greater than all of His gifts.
The Giver is greater than all of His gifts,
so come on,
give the Giver your love!

The sun by day, and the moon by night,
a billion stars twinkling oh, so bright!
They're only messengers of His light,
so come on,
give the Giver your love!

The love of the father and the mother and friends
is part of His love that will never end.
So through them all, pour out your love to Him,
Yeah, come on,
give the Giver your love!

There are places I remember
from the time we spent together there,
filled with memories of our loving,
when our laughter warmed and filled the air.
Now I go there when I'm empty
and the pain is more than I can bear,
and I pretend we're still together
in the memories that we share.

Lonely days, so full of echoes
from the voices of the cherished past---
I call your name, I taste your kisses--
I believed our love would surely last.
Again I hold you, oh so tender
at the dimming of the summer's day--
I feel your arms around me ,
and I still can hear you say:

"You're my angel, you're my spirit:
my sun and moon, my everything!
I've never known such loving,
how you fill my heart and make me sing."
And I believed you, how I loved you,
it's so hard to go and leave you there
when I come back from the feeling
of the memories we share.

i keep winter out
of my heart, remembering
your cherry bud kiss.

spring is coming soon--
manzanita buds aglow,
like little pink hearts.

climbing Mt. Fuji,
i saw only my two feet.
coming down-- the world!

the old Buddhist monk:
gentle as a flower, yet
stronger than thunder.

Not my stop, but
     I take your hand
still the thought of
     pull you with me
leaving makes my
     kiss you fiercely
heart feel hot – to cross
     together
beneath the buzzing light,
     escaping
silently into this crisp night.

So this then is hell:
to live on in pain
with a heart that won't die
though no love remains.

Your love is like a hammer, babe
hits me like a twelve-pound sledge.
Your love is like a hammer, baby,
hits me like a twelve-pound sledge.
Breaks my heart wide open,
knocks off the rough edge.

Your love is like a fire, babe
burns me to the ground.
Your love is like a fire, baby,
burns me to the ground.
Glowing in the ashes
some diamonds I have found.

Your love is like a mirror, babe
one I don't want to see.
Your love is like a mirror baby,
I don't want to see.
Staring in the fiery eyes of truth's
not a place I like to be.

Your love is like a hammer, babe
It can break or it can build.
Your love is like a hammer, baby
Break or it can build.
Your love will make me stronger
if it doesn't ****.

I fell into your kiss
your lips opened
more than soft
and all of me
was focused there
I was drawn
into your heart
hot, passionate
hungry, savage desire
needing me
to set fire to you
and go down
in glorious flames together
burning through
everything!
Fire flows
from my heart
and yours
our bodies glowing
clothing burns away
crackling sparks fly
as skin to skin
our flames
come together
and the fire dance
begins:
unspeakable pleasure
caresses electric
fire flowers bloom from
lips tongues fingertips
hotter and hotter
moaning, dripping
trembling, sighing
one
all-consuming
flame!


From far, far away
I hear someone
call my name
again and again.
Unwilling, I
tear my lips from yours
the kiss ends
our eyes open
we fall into
each other's eyes
and the sparks begin
to fly all over.

Again I hear my name
someone is shaking me
I wake up for real this time--****!
I'm back
in the Afghan mountains
it's time to pick up my rifle
and go on patrol.
My buddy looks at me funny,
"How'd you get
lipstick all
over your mouth?"
I touch my fingertips
to my still-tingling lips
a huge grin
steals over my face.
"I fell into a kiss."

Brighter
    light--
        darker
            shadow

Oh, come with me, master of Galilee,
I know that it's long you have waited for me.
Now I am ready to sail o'er the sea,
Oh, come with me, master of Galilee.

The waters are raging, the wind is a roar,
But sunlight is sparkling upon the far shore.
I'll raise the sail, will you take the oar?
Oh come with me, master of Galilee.

I'm comin' home Maggie, fightin' no longer!
They're sendin' me home from that hell of a war.
I've given me best, now I'm done with the fightin'.
There's nothin' can take me away anymore.

It seems like forever that I've been a-travelin',
by air and by boat and by train and by car,
Me heart has been achin' to be here beside ye,
to see ye and kiss ye and hold ye once more.

'Twas once we went laughin' and once we went runnin',
up to the high hills, and down to the shore,
oh do ye remember, we used to go dancin'!
Everyone watched as we burned up the floor!

I'm home again, Maggie, home at last, Maggie!
Wi' only a stump where me leg was before,
I'm home again, Maggie, oh my sweet lassie,
Death's all that can take me-- I'll wander no more.

Desolation all but slew me.
I feel as insubstantial
as a ghost in the dark
just outside life's window
looking in at the warmth
of a world
that will never again
be mine.  
That you see me
gives me hope--
perhaps I may yet again
know life,
love, even
joy.

Thank you, my friend--
little by little,
waves of time wash the wound:
worn driftwood,
broken shells,
a distant foghorn.  
I follow meandering footprints
disappearing in the sand--  
Suddenly, a glorious sunrise,
bright as her laughter.

Love loves
like heart got
just don't know,
hear ain't
oh night lost,
eyes silent.

moon dream,
want baby.
sea kiss,
time away,
home blues.

An eagle pair came in a dream
I searched for what their cry did mean
I puzzled that one eagle, dark
Struck my chest and left a spark
Then mounted to the sky and flew
With the white bird, one as two
The two in flight so close beside
Their beating wings as one I spied
They higher flew and ever higher
That spark burst into blazing fire
"Freedom!" is my own heart's cry
My quest that will not be denied
In you I've found, O blessed be
An eagle heart to answer me.

I was sure I didn't love you--
I was sure I never could,
'cause you're not the kind of woman
that I thought I ever would.

So when you called me "sweetie"
as you left for Rome that day,
I wanted to say, "I'm not,
don't talk to me that way."

"I'm nothing more than just a friend,
that's all I want to be.
Of course I care about you, but
not in the way you mean."

"So don't go getting ideas
in your little weasel head.
I never want to spend the night
in your little weasel bed."

I thought that with you gone away
I'd think of you not at all,
so I was quite surprised one day
when I wondered if you'd call.

And when I started checking the mail
for a post card sent from you,
I really started wondering
what the hell I was going through.

I found that I was missing you
more than I cared to admit,
I found that I was wanting you, too,
more than a little bit.

Tonight you let your black hair down,
push finally came to shove,
and the weasel girl I once disdained
became the woman I love.

your hip's irresistible curve
calls me, "come and revel
in the magic of your love!"

my fingertips' caresses
whisper adoration,  
each finger
a laser shining
love deep into
your every cell,
igniting a wild fire
that awakens you,
consuming
your sleepiness

as you
waken,
turn,
and our lips meet,
we burst into golden fire.

Death walked in.
He said to her,
"Be still."
And she is.
So still.

Blue moon in heaven--
    no love to hold.
Even this warm
    summer night
        has turned cold.

May real love
   find you--
take you by
   surprise:
hug the pain
   from your heart;
kiss the tears
   from your eyes.

What might the Universe be saying,
Behind the endless chatter of my brain?
What would happen if I really stopped to listen?
Could I hear my seconds running down the drain?

I'll make believe my ears are giant dishes
Made just to hear the music of the spheres.
I'll try to stop my restless mind from spinning
As I listen for the whisper of the stars.

But what if the Universe is sleeping,
And all I hear are snores and gnashing teeth?
Or what if it has taken a vacation
Someplace where it simply can't be reached?

I would hate to go to all that fuss and bother
Just to find out that it may not like to talk.
It might prefer, like me, to have a quiet cup of tea,
And at sunset take a silent evening walk.

And even if the U. and I were speaking,
No proper introductions have been made.
What if it couldn't speak to me in English?
My German's rather threadbare nowadays.

I really can't converse on astrophysics
Or other things that Universes do
"Tell me, have U. ever had an ice cream,
Or visited the tigers at the zoo?"

I'm sorry now I ever even wondered
Just what the Universe might say.
I simply don't have time for idle chatter.
I've got so much I must get done today!

A thousand blue dreams
float together
in fluffy white
diamond sky moments
smearing rose-petaled beauty
across the sky,
where delicate cool Spring
gorgeous,
washed,
still weeps
Winter's tears.

Sometimes, when poets write of love,
we speak of body parts,
but the part of you that I love best
is hidden in your heart.

How can I kiss your kindness?
Caress your thoughtfulness?
That's what I adore the most,
beyond your mounded *******.

The fount of understanding
flowing from your lips
is even more attractive
than your shapely waist and hips.

Your ready sense of humor
is very **** too!
You get the joke that others miss--
I love that about you.

While others pant of naked skin
and love that's passion-driven,
we share a secret smile because
our love is baked with leaven.

I make a steady effort
to keep reducing my life.
I've unraveled it's tapestry
into a skein of loose threads.
I'm down to the last one,
it's getting thinner.

I used to have
a wife, a business,
a family, a community,
but that's all gone now:
the marriage was a lie,
the business was killing me,
the community was a cult.

So I cut it all away.
Now all I have left is
a few old friends,
a fistful of poems,
my old guitar,
this big truck I live and work in,
and a couple of kids whom I love.

Not much of a legacy
for a lifetime.
But I take satisfaction in this:
there are no lies in it.

I'm nobody's jailer,
I'm nobody's prisoner.

I make an honest living,
take comfort where I can,
love my kids with all that's in me.

I keep heading down the road,
one step ahead of the reaper.
So far, so good.