In a flower bed
Of rose and thorn,
Scarlet and green,
As we stem into one
Growth under blankets
White with joy, blue
As blood, we pluck
The petals left for us,
We tangle in thickets,
Moisted lips of heaven
Of clover and of daisy,
Milky as the wet stars,
Honeyed in the night
Hive and sumptuous
Joining, like clouds,
Opening above, we
Drench ourselves, cry
In drops, teary rains
That break, inwards,
Eyes, entwining with
Hot limbs unknotted
Till there is the spent
Wonder of skin scent,
Steeps of salt and sea,
Each leftover of touch
An outcast, a grieving.

in a meadow on the bluffs
little stars clutch clinging
to earth and sky all for us
the eye. petals are rolling
in on misty winds surprise
more for the eyes, and all
of meadow so live above
is tapestry higher than sea
colours meshing with leaves
birds, bees, faces of flower
scents of sweetness in air
a patch of ground bursting
for you and me with poetry

.
I saw you with her,
One day in the sun,
I was only shadow,
Blankness overrun.

Rains fell as I flew,
In greyest courtyards,
Hard as stone set low,
I was but a lone shard.

You looked so happy,
So tame with her light,
I felt a shudder growing,
Held back with all might.

There you were together,
My past one dead page,
You two so happy there,
And my life all the rage.

Wildflowers in grey day sun,
I like how they feel,
Proud amongst the stones
Of craggy walls and splintered
Wood in my village so bare,
Littered, wild blooming sundrops,
So bonnie, loud and cheerfully
Clear that this is a new day
To be beautiful.

.
Pale faced is bone true,
Lit in darkness like a match,
Two lovers in flame.

The moon is low monster,
High above any scream,
Our lives asunder.

The moon is one faced,
Judge without any jury,
My love for you is plain.

The moon is great Poet,
Above all mountains, pious
In the indifferent skies.

I once loved a dark lad,
Who laid me so blindly bare,
Even the nightingale was mute.

And love is a glowing ghost,
On my shoulders to keep,
Behind me the moon.

I miss knowing you with touches,
Drinking your breaths,
I miss hearing your lush silences,
Under thrills of moon,
My fingers longing for new emotion,
With eyes unseeing,
Still want of giving light from you.

My ears you kissed,
When I heard the rainbow singing,
My skin you fondled,
Hare in the grasses on end running,
I miss you sweet lad,
Above the sky and below the ocean,
Forever in my dreams.

I will lay by thee sire,
Dark tall, frozen-eyed sentinel,
What deep harness,
You ****** upon me,
What sorrows I nae see beyond thee,

Black sire in stables, punish me

I will give in to you,
Limp and strafed about yon body,
Without any purse,
I will succumb to you,
What joys you may make me suffer.

Sweet stallion please, break me

I will let you neck me,
Hard and true as the red deer rutting,
Shameless in pride,
I shall betroth my love,
What promise shall gait in surrenders.

*I shall be your mare, unbridle me

I am the broken wing,
The unsong unsung,
That the sky waits for,
In patient days untold,
The words unspoken
From the muted wren,
I am the shy seabird,
Unwinged, let, lamed,
Damaged by heavens,
Indifferent to earthlings,
When I saw lovely you,
Lone on purple heaths,
A bittern was mourning,
In the marshes within,
Me, my drowned heart,
Muffled in blasted wind.

Tears turn sands to mud,
Eyes unveil only sorrows,
Outstretched hands alone,
Red hair is tossing winds,
Lips parched upon dry air,
Barren of flesh to be held,
Toes are frozen on strands,
Eyes remembering of joys,
By the sea that breaks me,
My hand in yours no more.

never, reaching too fars,
next to ancestors graves
always, comes up home,
taste ó salt air, soily spey,
off-white washed cottage
grey in webbed shadows
by the tangles of streams
surrounding to dankness,
cavern into the sun, outs
in great wides and opens,
chimney smokes, signals,
yet whole world is closed
to me, nestled with family,
in wee drab cottage world.

last night I nearly lived,
in dream so make believe,
such a turn of sunshine

and hope was always true,
could cast away my sorrow,
beyond the dream horizons,

i saw painted, dim lit boats,
shrinking blue into oceans,
skipping in longest tides,

only wings can take me
there, to the outter shores,
beyond the dream horizons,

i cannot fly, I then thought,
as the lone seabird sails,
as such an angelic thing,

but see the sky is an arc,
any wing can show you,
just lend an limb or eye,

across the sun waves,
are new lands to make,
before any moon rises,

the sky is clearly woven,
skerries and the frosted
banks are steeply melting,

a lone grey gull cries over,
seabird in soul ceremony,
solemn with climbing sun,

i cannot fly, I then thought,
as the lone seabird sails,
as such an angelic thing,

merely I am human now,
awake from dream horizons,
dead alive without wings.

last night a door opened
it was you calling for me
such a dream light entered
when you appeared so real
and the flames of set arms
lit fire to unlatched breaths
in my silent room with you
like haloes and open wings
so short was our embrace
and time ran out a window
trailing afar in shy moment
i glanced outside and saw
a moon of breathless white
satcheled in sky the noose
pressing down over black
woods and i heard the owl
moaning deep in darkness
suddenly was i half awake
alone forever bereft of love
and the dream light brought
so dearly with your coming
left with you as a door shut.

In my room by old window,
As turn lights are dimmed,
The face of new shy moon
Presents a dream genuine,

Simply the light of my love,
As you haunt me enthralled
I hear the sweet doves coo,
In the morning stillness call,

Your photo beams a shout,
As it whispers from my wall,
Silent, as the sun lights out,
Under the moon at nightfall.

Memories swirl in my diary,
I remake what has now fled,
What simple pleasures cry,
In jots for moony tears shed,

Window to worlds now sad,
In faintest light beyond true,
My black haired, lovely lad,
I will always remember you.

Out on the breakers,
In early morning sun
We ran, making near
The villages at dawn,
Laughing in opening
Cafés, steaming with
Our coffees and teas
And broke for beach
The windings of sea,
Breathless of midair,
Brimming with gulls
Overheads and nip,
Love token musics,
Bathed us unto light
And the golden day
Was never endings,
Until next true song,
We sang in low grass
Above the sleepy hill,
Green stones, woken
Towns, we loving so
And so young, where
Birds ringing always
In the pathways brisk
Of newfound dream,
Sailing without to us
Into the Skye touches
We blew eyes of tear
Open, alive, held shy,
In whispered psalms,
Birthing into heavens,
Wings loosed, set free
Two silver cloudy birds,
We flew in old embrace,
My curved hand in yours.

.
The indifferent sky,
Cold as marbled altar,
Starless, plain as scripture
Blasphemed with conviction,
In communion with flocks,
Says nothing about love
Nor trust nor truth nor
Blood offered in cold
Cup of chalice
Only priests
Thirst up.
.

i saw in your eyes
my windowed soul
my naked self freed
alive yet dousing now
joyous tear and burst
of cloud ringing stars
yay i am sure drowned
overboard in lifesaving
blooms wilds flowering
of irises touch so dear
and lay awake bathing
only to dream for sight
with looks blissful keep
the near deepest unrest
and i am fairly held nigh
holy in pagan fairy pools
of skye by sunken lochs
into bluest shyest violets
glowing moons ashudder
what unlived eyes of mine
could nae see ever before
what life held by saving us
ayes set in promising glaze.

.
Take this flesh,
Make me unreal,
Let voice expose,
Solidify, delusions,
Let body rule most
In this make up set,
Your beauty shine out
Like light blinding eyes,
Interrogate my soul as it
Vibrates within cell made lit
Like fire caught in cauldrons.
.

When days to wilds became
Bright song of spring so real,
We gifted selves shameless,
Blooms laden in sunny fields.

Kisses grew whisperings airy,
Whizzing round us like bees,
O when we loved true dearly,
Gusts blew breathy thru trees.

Our touch devoting like rings,
Golden in grasses rung green
And eyes glazed over singing,
Wet and sleepy as ***** dream.

O how inmost times passed,
Winsome wee flowers in grass.

Green is the sky and all the lights of heaven
Are peeking eyes, up to us in given blossoms
Of the flowering clover and bright are new daisies,
Wee sparks of fire who squad, roams of butterflies
And bees on bouncing airstruck mission waysides,
The shot stems of wildlings breech, lancing into sky.

I am the gardener with suns aborning in my eyes,
To pull the weeds wildly and declare all is garland,
I hear trumpet of bindweed, see hearts in the leafs
Of coltsfoot, crowns in the thistle, tapestries, vines
For dress of hair and eye and walls on cottage dry,
Are lovemakes true and keepsakes of joyous times.

I had words and smiles for you,
Touch, like sparks into waters,
I had stories and poems for you,
Time, tender and dear as light,
I had dreams and hopes for us,
Precious, as salt in deep ocean,
Solid as spirit, love, devotions.

But words to you, just stories,
And smiles for you not poems,
Time was not precious nor dear,
Your eyes smiled no deeper then,
Your skin stretched silent a heart,
Gifts were not real things for you,
But they were all the world to me.

Out in the opens, I loved you fair,
A greeting door of wishes left ajar,
My heart was true consummation,
Offered up to you, beautiful laddie,
Hands held out for your windy soul
And one day my promises became,
Just woulds and pines and beach,
A childish strand of story charms,
Now a love goes cold, ungathered,
A rag of cloths hangs nigh to ribs,
I leave my prints on knotted wood,
My greeting door is closed to you.

Out in the opens, I loved you fair,
A greeting door of wishes left ajar,
My heart was true consummation,
Offered up to you, beautiful laddie,
Hands held out for your windy soul
And one day my promises became,
Just woulds and pines and beach,
A childish strand of story charms,
Now a love goes cold, ungathered,
A rag of cloths hangs nigh to ribs,
I leave my prints on knotted wood,
My greeting door is closed to you.

my hands fit so
well in yours
your hands have
touched me deep
bumping my skin
how they sent
me on frenzies
of late mornings
bare to alleyways
by misty sea on
a rounded hill
your hands have
eyes that see me
i hoped my hands
saw you as blindly
o how i miss them
the way we lost
each other only
to touch and land
over inside bodies
your cool hands
are lushy and white
flesh feather plucked
call me little burns
who trace downs
the valley fingers
branches twined
with shy red hair
tangled and us
winged in skye
my hands so fit
well in yours

my hands fit so
well in yours
your hands have
touched me deep
bumping my skin
how they sent
me on frenzies
of late mornings
bare to alleyways
by misty sea on
a rounded hill
your hands have
eyes that see me
i hoped my hands
saw you as blindly
o how i miss them
the way we lost
each other only
to touch and land
over inside bodies
your cool hands
are lushy and white
flesh feather plucked
call me little burns
who trace downs
the valley fingers
branches twined
with shy red hair
tangled and us
winged in skye
my hands so fit
well in yours

.
In still morning light,
There is new beginning,
Early birds so joyous,
On wings into the sky,
How the sun is painting
A paradise for my eyes.

I will wake into dream,
On this day so spectral,
I will sing with the breeze
And interpret the songs
Of birds in trees a flame,
Sailing into heavens' dawn.
.

.
In still morning light,
There is new beginning,
Early birds so joyous,
On wings into the sky,
How the sun is painting
A paradise for my eyes.

I will wake into dream,
On this day so spectral,
I will sing with the breeze
And interpret the songs
Of birds in trees a flame,
Sailing into heavens' dawn.

.
Patches of grass spot the hill,
Interspersed are old stones
Wind blown, like bones
Buried deep in the sun.

Wildflowers are crowding
There too, scorching bloom
In desolation, windy blown,
Sacred as any high tomb.

Crows circle above, waiting
For new soiled dreams to end,
I watch them from a shy window
Cold as the hill stones, remaining.

listen -
hear no sound, feel
only wind on its way, ghostly
nothings, but hush to sharp wings
of ocean birds so fraying as they cut
the sky, shuttle to fairways, far aways,
in plaintive cries, i hear what they say,
sailing into the jeweled skylights, but i
am only weight of air, still on ground,
i mumble out, sidle the bone tides
that roll to land, grains of clarity,
i am mist and tear, a world
of hollow, i am that sound -
of ocean in a shell.

.
Your face,
Louder than the moon,
Drowning me
Out into the long night,
Is so warm,
Like sun tendering heather.

Your voice,
Lifting me like a feather,
Into great sky
Weightless as I fall high,
Downy and rich,
As babe is swaddled nigh.

Your touch,
Sets my weary soul aflame
And I call out
Into the night carving names,
Writ in comets,
Yet to crash, that I am starlight.