Like a cup of coffee
a perfect brew
you are my morning cuppa 
I am addicted to you 

Or Darjeeling tea 
for which I pine 
aroma in gold 
you're always on my mind 

Like watermelon juice 
a sumptuous burst 
pink and sweet 
you quench my thirst

Or a bottle of wine 
red or white 
you tickle my senses 
in fermented delight 

Now of course 
there isn't much I can do

Dear poetry
I am addicted to you

Though we can't change the order of things
Nor make some moments better
Nor alter what fate brings -
We can be there for one another

Though we can't stop the sun from burning
Nor the ice from layering rivers
Nor stop the tides from turning -
We can be there for each other

Though we can't wipe away all tears
Nor ease the many brows of grief
Nor remove the shadows of fear -
We can be there together

Though we can't hold the dusk at bay
As darkness begins to fill the sky
We can still brighten the grey -
When there with one another

And when the snow streams for a mile
When the scent of flowers fills the air
We can hold hands and smile -
When there with one another

How do I love you - in poem or prose
In a story, a eulogy, aubade or an ode?
I could love you in a sonnet
A senryu, though terse
I'd spill my heart - drop by drop
Or ink it verse after verse
I could write a terzannelle
A villanelle I could chance
Tapping on the refrain of love
The feet of romance
I could weave metaphors and similes
Sweet and sublime
Or trip down the keys
Playfully alliterate each line
How do I love you?
I can love you as I do -
In simple words that are writ -
From a heart that is true



Repost

I found the moon
on a bed of flowers
With his beams
cast in white
In a moonlit garden
that gleamed in silver
On a clear and cloudless
starry night

No reds stood proud
no tangerines
No purples
in royal sheen
Quiet greys
and blooms of whites
tossed back
his ivory light

I found comfort
peace and calm
In darkness
that lent her charm
The greens warmed
by a streaming stole
And beauty
that heals the soul

Each day is lit
by the flaming sun
Yet such loveliness
when the night returns
And what mysticism
and mysteries
In darkness, these eyes can see

Unburden
Let go
Breathe
Without resistance
Let life flow
Pause for a moment
In the joy of existence

I love the word melange
It sounds not-so-ordinary  
Though not so extraordinary
But I feel a notch above the rest when I use it
So much so for being pretentious

And without being rambunctious
I’ll say that I find —
It describes, perfectly, the state of my mind —
Some happy thoughts, some with twists
Some clear ones, some fogged with mist
Some good, others amiss
A curious melange of thoughts
Of that and this
And that, I suppose, is also what life is.

It’s hard to care
for a bunch of flowers in a vase  
Neither here nor there
Neither quite dead nor alive
Though seemingly full of life
And fragrant and beautiful

But it distresses me as they start to wilt
Petals fall
One by one — all
Perhaps it’s better that I get a
bouquet of dried flowers instead
Muted creams, browns and reds
They won’t be as vibrant
But flowers yet
They’ll dispel winter’s gloom
Add colour to my room

They’ll certainly last longer…
Ah, if only I were wiser and stronger
I could make the most of each moment
And enjoy the beauty of flowers and their sweet scent
But I guess I am silly
To brood over wilting roses, dahlias and that odd lily