My love, you are an agony
but for you
I would have been on the road
made the world my family

The sun and the moon you robbed
stars you made your countless eyes
but for you
I would have flown where eagles rise
made my home in the sky

My love, you are an agony
but for you
I would have gone down the flow
a speck of moonlight
in the sparkling shadows of night
hanging on a leaf like poetry!

A smile for a while
A grin for a time
A laugh, one chuckle
No money for a rhyme-----
D
O
W
N
B
  E
L
  O
W
A poet goes
Hoping to get just one
View---- a poet is born
By the millisecond
A window of
opportune.
Some poets dream
Of Mars
Some the stars, sun and moon.
Some are rich and some are poor-----
Some have houses
Yet no money for a bedroom door
Some poets write with pens
Others write with their teeth,
Other poet's write with pain and excite
Some poets write rapping streets
Some poets write of amor, some write of drug use
Of their future's in store.
Some poets write for fun and play
Some write of their deaths
Some in June and may
Some poet's change their lives
As others write sweet lullaby's
Some poets are me and you
The someone's are somebody's
That someone is you.

I got stuck on Skye;
There were many
Reasons why.
The ring of mountains
Walled me in,
The blue above
Was closer then,
The blue around
Was too deep,
And the whiskey
Was smooth and cheap.
The chatter of the lads
Was keen;
The beauty of the lass,
Serene.
Yes, I got stuck on Skye,
Managed to get off
Before I died.

there are
names we
do not say,  
they form
pockets,
places the
rain has to
move to
get around.
a note that
when struck
is as
resonant
as the wolf,
whose howl
breaks the
sea, carves
the name
through
you & me.

Up and down the road again,
following the twists and turns
in hope to achieve and gain
I ride on though my eyes burn

My hopes painted inside my mind
where in loops past and future runs
behind the clouds my star shines
I look through it though my eyes burn

I had held too many I could pocket,
now tell less tales, became a taciturn,
hanged those round my neck in a small locket,
I keep quite though my eyes burn

The storm has done damages enough
from the winds and waves I learned
even small ships can deal with the rough
I clean the deck *though my eyes burn