Pen'd the most refined poetry

    whilst dreamily sleeping,

like fancy musings in the haze

    of lustrous paradisal ponds,

   it dissipated on the horizon

i cried symbolical tears

     for this miscarriage

  of poetic reverie's injustice,

all i could recollect

   'twas written neath

      the grand oak tree

as starlings sat silently gazing,

    held their boisterous song

  whilst i eagerly scribbled,

& paused to delight in the majesty

  amidst sterling skies' misted allegory

the moon was abundantly ripe

    seasoned of versed enlightenment,

as it loftily floated towards clouds' spell,

   'twas something profoundly reverent

    about life, death and baby's breath,

translation ascended the sweetly scented ether,

           ...the essence of it lingers still

Crimson poppies shot through  
    deadened ****** soil
midst fields of deliverance,
    as every mother's tears rained
    upon sanguinary retribution

My girlfriend has coveted
Installed bookshelves
For over thirty years.
She has imagined them
Bookending her hearth,
When a visitor walks up
To scan her collection.
She has books lying about
On her tables, my tables,
A few on outside tables.
She is an insatiable reader,
But never had shelves.
So, as a double gift,
I fabricated,
Installed and stained
To match her gum wood mouldings.
From vision to reality,
Better than Plato.
She's so pleased and proud
She refuses to use them;
To distract the viewer's looks
With books.