Her degenerative state prompted me to do something.
I slowly put my hands around her, holding her tight.
Waited for the spark, from which the inspiration would ignite.
Barely any life in her, her limbs all but gone,
seeing her deteriorate anymore I felt was so wrong.

Kneeling above, coming face to face,
sure that I could rescue her, restore her to her former grace.
Stroking her rugged waxy skin
Feeling each line,
staring at her nakedness
thinking how it brought her no pain.
Breathing her aroma in,
pondering her past,
wondering whether nature was cruel in allowing
her existence to this soon pass.

Holding a pen I start to draw
moving it around her body, considering each law,
pondering each incision the depth I would need to go,
knowing any slip could cause harm and sorrow.

Hours below the stars and shine,
Her operations each going fine,
Now I see her presence
surfacing, her beauty sublime.
So smooth her complexion
No Not as nature had meant it to be
Her Precious marks fabulous,
her features lovingly Chipped,
carved and refined.

Her past has now disbanded
Her new life begun
Why it was that she chose to be a panther.
Only she knows!
(c) Robert Kingston 8.10.15

I look at you lying there!
Appearance,
innocent and sublime.

I wonder for a moment
if watching is a crime!

Shadows cast upon your face,
as a lone candle
dances with the wind.

Chiffon twisting and parting
as if teasing, creating loving
visions in my mind.

Stirring for a moment
you roll onto your side.
I am left reflecting
on when our lips collide.

your outstretched arm
it searches,
you realise I am not there

Patting softly on a dent
I visualise you thinking of me
the day I unknowingly went!
(c) Robert Kingston 7.10.15

Received a post today,
Requesting me to share,
Promoting death, not harmony,
My heart it just stood still and stared.

It said for me to support,
A gun law in the states,
I retaliated with a question,
Are not enough good men already in crates?

I wrote a simple message,
Reasoning with its point,
Said that I preferred a paper and words
As a guns mean, leaves the world
In constant anarchy and disjoint

I questioned the second amendment
I based my view on peace
For surly once a trigger is pulled
Then all facets of war are released

I hear the hollow screams of,
Guns are for our protection.
I hear those words loud and clear,
But still I continue to question.

For without the guns as threats
Then people can be encouraged to talk.
Articulate words can then be spoken
From which bright futures can sought.

© Robert Kingston 21.3.15

Alphabet soup

I could never tell their order, for they all came out so fast
All the letters in the alphabet, all came with a blast
Words I did not recognise, words I did not choose
All of the letters they kept scrambling
All of them amused.

I see them all before me,
A vast ocean full of glee.
Words becoming sentences
Grammatically painting pictures
For one and all to see.

I see pictures from the present
I see pictures from the past
I see pictures in natures many guises
Some of them cast to last

I read of the mystical meandering, that comes from within Pandora’s Box
I read of the mythical dimensions, of Devinci his ruse that seekers seek to unlock
I read of the magical new beginnings, in nature as seasons produce its flocks
I read of the wonders of the universe, bequeathed by scientists since time started the ticking of its clock

All the wonderful letters bequeathed to those that note,
All the wonders of the mind, its senses from which the stories float.
All these special visions’ artists choose to collate,
All these special pictures writers choose to paint.

(c) 12.14

A cuckoo sings its first spring voice
The cider maker cracks his cork on this year’s choice
English apples presented from pre years press
Picked and selected to impress
Bottled and ready for drinkers wide and far
Vision distorting with every jar

From orchards up and down the land
Drinkers search the best in town
Scrumpy be the drinkers rot
Weak willed should try it not

A test once tasted of a brewers fare
An enjoyment discovered but just take care
For once you have past the half way mark
You’ll soon be singing and dancing with the larks

Arcturus rises
He provides guidance in light
Clouds mocks with blindfolds

My heart is on fire
Due to the words that she wrote.
Bound inside a ****** mire
Waiting on each lyric and note.

My mind it is she it desires,
My body it yearns her as a coat.
Visually I undress her, ready to sire,
Her welcome keeps my mind afloat

Hearts pounding our bodies on fire,
Her rosy voluptuous lips are pout.
Calling my name her wanton desire,
A fulcrum point is tipped and I am devout.

Upon the bed beaded in wet we lay
Many words and moments we ponder and to each convey.