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ian was my cloud-castle
ian was my dream.

the love was always the love
with my ian.

i was his beautiful bird
he was my beautiful boy

he was my gentleness of heart
he was all my day and all of my night

i love my ian for ever.

when i come back it will always be
beth and ian.
ancient history
spring sings her new song, and the hail and the frost and the pretty flowers open all their windows and doors. my poetry lay dormant as the winter wind. as the last storm and gust carries the poetry to a new morning, love finds me, love finds me.
the star of the star of the morning
is restful and tranquil and free

the star of the star of the evening
blossoms dark as a shadowy tree,


the waves drive out far in their rivers
as blue as a star in the sky,

and the darkness relents for her shivers
must finally die.


waves turning and burning and dancing
clouds wandering e'er ever on

and the darkness that finds the new morning,
as cold as stark night's bitter song,


oh, brother who wept for my sisters
no tears as alive as their breath

swept out where the wild sea blisters
and pain knows of death.


wild whispers, wild birds and the fury
of waves that sing out to the clouds

the death then of life that we bury
laid out in the whitest of shrouds


the sea, oh, the sea, how she sings me
a song of a dance never sung

and her rhythms soon calm and placate me
her bell solemn rung.


and sweet love is the journey i strive for
as blue as a mysterious sea

and the love is a fruit full of succour,
and the moment will live e'er free,


you stand tragic as a painting so mournful
alone as a poet who rests,

and the lull of the storms here at night fall
the sea's treasure chests.


the day wraps the night in her roses
and night wraps the day in her sight

and midnight's soft moonlight supposes
that day is a journey e'er bright,


and love was a love still forever
and love had no rose in her bower

for the floor of the sea like a feather
the most delicate flower.
the sea like some colossal round barrel,
rolling softly along with the tide,

as the bright summer waves lose their quarrel
with a wind that has blossomed and sighed,


strange night full of clouds, full of ocean
full of gulls hanging wings on the sky,

while the waves with their depth  and emotion,
must finally die.


waves enchanting and rolling and curling
a sky deep in love with the wave

where the ghost of the moon-tide is haunting,
that n’er found release from the  grave,


the sea with her linens and moonshine
as white as a sheet on a line,

where the wind catches a note of the sea brine,
and your love is mine.


dear lover, our love was a sea tune
that sang out of a love ever free,

as our kisses that delighted the night moon,
brought contentment to you and to me,


our love an incredible fire,
that haunts us from dawn until dusk,

with an ******-like song  of desire
filled with fragrance and musk.


love deeper and softer and sweeter,
love more of freedom than strife,

dark glance full of fire and fever,
fire and fever and elixir of life,


love never cold quenched or forgotten
bold as bold and incredible of flame,

love fabulous, searing  and wanton
love impossible to tame.


there are magics that sweet lovers treasure
there are kisses of love and of light,

and love that is impossible to measure,
carried along by the song of the night,


and jealous our song to each other,
the jealousy  e’er  bittersweet,

the ghost and the sky and the lover,
the rose at our feet.
and i was the enchantment waiting to find you...

when i was a daughter of siam i cried so beautifully at night for my husband's love when i was asleep that i became his favourite wife and he promised to love me forever.
the clouds white as white at their edges,
the moon like a gem set in cloud,

the cliffs with the birds on their ledges,
far away where the weary waves bowed,


love strong of wild heart and compassion,
love decent and as gorgeous as mist

that blooms like the waves full of passion
or like lovers that kissed.


dark sky, dark delight and an ocean,
that rushes to the coast on a wave,

dark blossom of the night like a potion,
love always romantic and brave,


gold star loved like the soft song of e’ven
gold star lighting up the night sky,

the night lit as pretty as heaven,
or juliette’s  sigh.


our love once won and then sadly forgotten,
that died in cold februarys frost,

not given time to enjoy the new blossom,
of spring’s pretty blooms quickly  lost,


yet love mourned forever for losing,
a heart like a dragon once slain,

all the passion, the heart-ache, the yearning,
washed out in the rain.

— The End —