You are in heaven, when she loves you.
You are in hell, when she scorn.
Her eyes have the power to shrivel your soul down to an insignificant little raisin.
Her smile melts bodies into congealed mush.

Without her say so, I’m merely anonymous,
A vagabond, some *****,
Trotting through the fields, outside of her heart,
Hoping to gain entry past the gates.

The scent of her, intoxicating,
Like laughing gas,
A jovial inebriant,
As tranquillizing as her wholesome chortle.

Who or what am I, by comparison,
Without her eyes, her skin,
The taste of her lips,
A sip of blackberry brandy.

Her legs, more perfect, refined than David,
Between them, the Holy Grail of contentment,
Where life begins, where it can end,
At her say so— her command.

******* crafted by the hands of God,
I marvel at the sight of such beauty,
In such a grotesque world,
That she owns with her movement as graceful as the wind.

She makes me quiver, like salt on a slug,
As her silky, slick locks flip over her shoulders,
Those shoulders, help me,
Forget Greek architecture.

How dangerous it can be,
To tread through the seas of her love,
Anticipating rogue waves,
This schooner musn’t capsize.

Dancing with her, as if the last two on Earth,
I sway her body, closely against to mine,
Her passion radiating against my desire,
Bound to create a combustion greater than the Big Bang.

And that Big Bang, where our everything meets,
Her breaths, short but sweet,
Her gaze pierces through my existence,
As I force confidence daring to look into her eyes,
While I aim to satisfy her every desire.

If I should be so bold, so foolish,
To take her for granted,
May my soul burn in Hell,
For all of everlasting.

I’m nothing without that woman,
Women, thank God for ‘em,
For there is no greater rendition of Nirvana,
Accessible to mankind.

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Jenny Joseph
from Warning:When I am an Old Woman I shall wear purple (Profile 2021)

The waves are silent. The waves
don't move. Nobody wants to be here
and nobody wants to leave.

There's a man trapped
under his house with an alligator.
His wife does the thin space walk:
an olive, a cherry, and an onion.

She'd sensed his gaze and took off
her dressing gown. She asked if he thought
her bottom was too big, her mind too small.
He said a faded, faulted no.

He's stupid, but he'll catch on
sooner or later. He once saw a ray in her,
but she fell out of orbit. Waxing and waning.

She's got to be careful, after
the sleeping pills and gas. She knows
it's Wednesday because she
took her last pill on Tuesday.

Allowing the world she so painstakingly
built up to ignite and burn apart
in front of both their eyes.

the sky was blue the clouds were grey
   the sun shone now and then
she came to me from far away
   her name was Adolen

Adolen oh Adolen you tore my world
   in two
never seen a woman since with
   heart as sad as you

we travelled on to here and there
   and walked a grassy field
we wondered and we wandered near
   an edge that did not yield

the echoes of the fallen down
   controled our glassy stare
you lept into the near beyond
   i did not follow there

Adolen oh Adolen you tore my world
   in two
never loved a girl so much that
   was as sad as you

An angry woman


            Is a dangerous woman


Never underestimate the damage she can cause

It is time.
The time of pain and bloodshed.
You can feel it in you.
The pain many have suffered through.
A war that must be fought.
I am uncertain when this suffering will end.
But we must endure.

Thy Woman is a Queen of Passion,
pull Her closer to U at 1 am.
She's a Royal and smells of Hope.
See that U savor Her till 1 pm.
At Night, She will stir up your Soul.
With a Tongue that Stings and Whips.
She will paint your Chest and Thighs,
With those pink and sultry Lips.
She's intense and full of Feelings
and U have, a lot more to Learn.
Her Passions know all the places.
Where at Night, they have to Burn.
U will be caught, in Her World of Ecstasy
and When your Love joy, begins to Drip.
Keep Dancing your flesh with desires,
as U savor your Woman in Sips.

'I was beautiful once,'
    she said,
                  her weathered hands mending another torn patch on an old travelling cloak;

"It was good in its own way, I suppose,
    But it no longer had use for me.
...
I wore the beauty over my shoulders like
  A second skin,
          like a gifted jacket
                                 which I one day outgrew.
...
My interests turned to other purposes,
          And she was tucked away alongside the other tokens of my youth"

She stood, shaking out the quilt on her lap
     which flared in kaleidoscopic colour -
an intricate map
                     of tiny knots and stitches which had layered over years of constant mending,


"I make my own clothes now"







.

Try Stop
It's about strength and she has that

More than most guys and all women

Why is she this way why not another?

Life chose her to be strong not another

Stronger than me an example to me

In the best and worst ways mirror image

Not sure why it happened where it will go

There are no regrets for some things

They happen even if you try to stop it