its easy to love what you can see - touch, smell, taste, hear,, stroke, kiss, But to love the author through their work the invisible creator in faith and trust to be in love, ah now that's not so easy.
Its you and the Universe at one, my dear I brought you here with promises of love led you into a desert so you could be all mine and I all yours my love the Moon and the Sun and all the stars shine for us. Blue sky fields of green and the sea all speak of love and in your silence and solitude all is consummated promises fulfilled in the most beautiful of ways, my love.
I loved a woman long ago she kept me warm to the idea of marriage. She died. Now I live cold a measure of selfishness one of the many needs to keep alive the solitary silent in the throws of a worthy love.
the Sea keeps to her reach each tide timed in and out, out and in she never tires, or turns up late she keeps her secrets and shares her life a highway for ships and a grave for the dead.
minds travel, eyes drink colour you can taste the sea on your tongue hear nothing while listening make a fist or embrace the world smell a rose and winters scent on the wind.
some songs have sung "I hope I die before I get old" and its too long ago to remember who sung it(to give the credit) but you know the truth of their lyric applies to all ages up to, and for some, a hundred years or more, now that's refreshing. OH and by the way I think it was Roger Daltry of The Who. Singing "My Generation"
mould keeps at it in the corners of nights while days show up like late trains on time prediction becomes the only insight and the sharing of cynicism the top flight news undermine all that goodness and deny, deny anything good could in reality be the truth leave all your hope at the door of forgetting the awful fact of living with an aimless death
the only aircraft over head: sea rescue helicopters; no commercial flights every now and then shattering every nerve military jets low fast dominant and deathly
Hangovers go hand in hand with this job for many its the Achilles Heel their bodies accepted almost written in the stars that flow in their blood on the very day they first started singing to help offset the pain of their sensitivity, alcohol does it like no other
Keeping life a secret sweets in a pocket to take out when alone. Childhood was a journey to freedom. And when finally escaped from all the disguises. The child began to live.
many forlorn dreams are but whispers set free, an echo, times past reliving memories never to come around again but in the telling there lies a truth, a story once come true when as free as the wind, wild as the sea, a journey you did make.
America is so big, large to the point of immense my small island perimeter mind cant take in that much I would be lost out there, way out west overawed, eyes spinning in their sockets, a kid in a candy store, given too many choices.
someone I heard from the other side of the World liked late night conversations Poets being wordsmiths and words being their currency I thought I would put her out of her silent misery A poetess for sure from what I read of her work She can sit back now in her retirement knowing we will talk about her poetry and forever try to unpack her thought process while drinking cocktails and eating sausages
kiss me please these broken lips hiding silent screams kiss me please these cheeks away streaming tears kiss me please before I disappear kiss me please a kiss on the wind.
Sometimes not much is said and a look says it all body language within poetry starts with the heart sometimes too much the head. Emotional storms can flail limbs, poetry sometimes jumps out your skin. You can be led into silence a language of the dead speak with the ancestors and come back refreshed.
She spins her beautiful web as natural to her as air but beauty is not her game. She will wait, centred as patient as a full Moon. And its the freedom of wings brings the downfall of her meals.
Who will it be? The Doc, The Mortician the man who sells funerals? or the grave digger? the last mourner? a God who is omnipresent? A last look in the mirror?