Seeking refuge,
I appeal to your memory
of love.

If you remember blithe abandon,
the thump and swing 
of a heart unhinged,

then light a fire for me in this dark night;

if you know that 
what the eye discerns as reluctance
is often fear

then kindle something brave in me
and fan the flames with patience
until they become
inferno.

Me and myself, and all the while it has taken to get us here

Still alive, still breathing, still smiling

So what if my heart still remains hollow

And I have no one’s hand to hold yet

My smile will not fade because of my loneliness

At least I feel like I’ve healed

The wounds, now a thing of the past

And from the peak that I now stand upon

All I see are endless blue skies

And a sea of possibilities that beckon me

I was once the color of the ocean,
Sad and alone, and eventually
Got sick of it all
Turned green
And I had the notion
That I should be happy
That I should be smiling like the sun
Turned yellow
Was dancing, with no expectations
And was always having fun
But soon after, I became pink
My cheeks were warm, and flushed
Had a crush, went crazy in the head
My heart expanded slowly
The feeling became stronger
Turned red

the first thing i do
when i wake up
in the morning
is cry

the last thing i do
when i go to bed
at night
is cry

there are times
i do not count
anymore
during those times
in between
i cry

now i cry
and i no longer
no why
because there's
no reason
to cry
when there's
no
reason

As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
"Love has no ending.

"I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street,

"I'll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.

"The years shall run like rabbits,
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
And the first love of the world."

But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
"O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.

"In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.

"In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.

"Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver's brilliant bow.

"O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you've missed.

"The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.

"Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
And Jill goes down on her back.

"O look, look in the mirror?
O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.

"O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart."

It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
And the deep river ran on.

Do you know what it means to have a moment encapsulated and remain enthralled with an utterance for what seems a century?
Or more?
It isn't your voice or your beleaguered indiscretion
it is not your rounded shoulders and body (language) speaking of consequential truths
its the way your words round my hard thoughts, softening and falling to slide off the firm curve of my breast.
Feeling each individual letter glide delightfully around my mouth
after being in yours
and I taste something new amid
a festival of enunciation.
There is false bravado in me and you
slip it off, along with my clothes.
I'm left naked and shy
almost hiding now, what I previously
wanted to share so much.
Almost, as your tender words guide an
embrace
I fall in love for the first time with a word
knowing you can only ever possess me physically.

(War Time)

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum-trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.