Humans
Libraries of living knowledge
Flowing, burning, refreshing.

Even the youngest, have the biggest stories to share
Even the oldest, have the smallest stories to tell

We pull knowledge, from all enviroments
At an uneasy unrest.
From the busy streets
From the dangerous nights
Even from the books, right by the candle light

As we live on, as we grow wise, as we pick up things that we will use all our life

Remember to share. To speak, to mean.
Remember to be happy, through thick, even through thin
Our voices, will live, through years and through ages.
Just remember, tread carefully in yours. Or you might pull something, that might stretch from shore upon shore.

The parking lot
Is empty
The ballroom is a mess
There’s an untouched
Cake next to
An unworn dress
Today should have
Dawned a perfect new start
Now the champagne is nursing
A broken heart

Take it from me
There’s not much to see
In this garden with few sunny days

No prize winning flowers
Sprouting upward like towers
For invited guests to amaze

But when I come home
To a house all alone
I’m glad that my yard goes

To humble blossoms
Daffodils lined in rows
And a spot where tulips have arose

It's where I go to unwind
Achieve peace of mind
And escape a day of lows

So I’m sure you’ll agree
There’s not much to see
In this garden for guests to amaze

But this garden is fine
Because it is mine
Where I happily spend all my days

Within the four walls
Below a roof
Busy with play of words
The poet is aloof.

The sky is breaking low
Pitter patter rain
Capture they must the flow
Of drizzles soothing pain.

Outside on a stretch of green
Drenched to the bone
A man with cracking skin
Hoeing from morn.

The toiler is tasked to ****
Paid by the hour
Must earn the precious quid
Whatever the shower.

The poet is lost in the toil
To grow his rhyme in shower
The **** works fast the soil
Growing hope by the hour.

Alone in this silent desert, burned indelibly by sun
after the call, after the blue, red fall of flames
here, after the dancing scorch of fire
I am left to the smouldering doldrums of desire
this bed, now an empty space, a wordless, lifeless place
here, where I have slowed, my movement stagnates
the memories, the sheets - they suffocate
some days feeling so trapped by love
I can only think to run, think how to untangle again
still some days I dream a life with you
in colorfully painted, magnificent hues.

I think you are of clay
of red earth and water
smooth formed and forged
a vessel for holding fire
a warm copper bronze
sculpted, divinely poured
of ancient Roman origin
descended from Apollo
born of pure poetry and music
you walk the earth, a skilled hunter
with bow and arrow