Rising like smoke from the eternal spring
Approaching with rose petals at her feet
Angel of hope sheds light on everything
Whenever life is bitter more than sweet

Within our secret gardens of desire
Fountains of sparkling passion locked away
Therein lies hope, forever to inspire
lest optimism ever goes astray

Age sometimes dims the dancing flame of hope
And drudgery weakens vitality
Darkness and sorrow sometimes interlope
Between us and our dearest fantasy

Yet human spirit finds a way to cope
As long as we find inroads back to hope.

SR 27/10/06 Revised 20/09/12

A nano-second window has arrived
Leaving me time for touching base with you.
It's dog-eat-dog, yet our puppy survived;
We thought outside the box, and simply grew.

We're all different, yet basically the same.
We can anticipate the market's needs,
And levitate to top dogs in our game;
Out-smart the opposition till it bleeds.

I'll text you vis-a-vis the status quo,
We'll throw some ball park figures in the air.
Let's keep it strictly on a need-to-know;
We'll have it all, and plenty more to spare.

So hold that thought until I've sorted things;
It's not over till that fat lady sings.

She stares into a pool reflecting midnight stars
A scrying glass of mystic mystery
A portal to dimensions where the brave may pass
Without a password or a golden key.

The shimmer of green oceans in the mind's third eye
Reflects a myriad of distant lands
A chalice raised; a sip that brings the lips to sigh
Wingbeating spirit hears and understands.

The trees are hung with lanterns giving amber light
The sky's festooned with stars in veils of cloud
Reflecting in her eyes. In decadent delight
She takes another sip and sighs aloud.

The light green potion lingers lightly on her tonge
Unfolding tastes of mint and aniseed
Promising deeper pleasure while the night is young
Where evening moths and fairies stop to feed.

12/3/12 16:15pm

The painted lady waiting in the wings
Now parts her lips to sing her lover's name;
She enters, arms spread outwards as she sings
Like some fantastic orchid made of flame.

She scatters fragrant petals in the hall
And yet more petals round the master bed
Her sweet song echoes like a linnet's call
Her swirling silks are edged with golden thread.

Then comes a telegram from overseas
To say her love will not return again
The lady falls, still singing, to her knees;
Her heartbeat speeds, like wings beating in vain.

Such is the way of love made through a lie;
Like chloroform, to **** a butterfly.

21/2/12    16:09pm*

How lovely is my dearest one in sleep,
A fair whisper of who he was before;
Silence has fallen in the castle keep,
Spring birds are singing; and he speaks no more.

How pale, my Romeo, by evening light,
How cold, these sullen lips I'm burning for;
The sunset burns with amber, warm and bright,
Blooms shine like lanterns; and he sees no more.

I kiss the pillowed tresses of his hair,
Caress his face, these pale hands I adore,
Such touches as would tell how much I care,
I kiss him softly; though he feels no more.

The dagger shimmers coldly in my hand
Bringing death's sweet release to my command.

15/2 /12        02:07

She's slipping through the loopholes in my prayers
Defying all attempts to wish her well
The world at large so little knows or cares
How many languish in a private hell

She's slipping through the system; what there is
And loopholes of what care there ought to be
She's teetering before a precipice
The endless chasm of the wait-and-see

A prayer is but an exertion of will
Sent drifting in the bright dome of the sky
Each one of many; some unanswered still
Some high priority, some drift on by.

She's slipping through the loopholes in our prayers,
Fading the hopes of everyone who cares.

8/2/2012 16:37

For winter I wear black.
not one spark of colour
shall break my mourning for this
season of death.
It speaks of the way I feel inside;
the chill stab of sorrow, the darkness of hurt long concealed.

There will be no yellow
until daffodils appear;
no blue until the bluebells,
no pink until the cherry blossoms
scatter their petals
over the long-thawed land
to make way for the coming of the goddess of spring.

Black is the opposite of white,
of the flat white snow;
black's like a sheltered cave.
Let me hibernate in shadow
draw the curtains
close my eyes.
Wake me only when springtime finally arrives.