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Brown and blue never really matched,
Until yet, when our eyes first met.
I rise my glass and whisper,
To our first times, please take me back.
To the night our bodies were
pushed together,
And my lipstick was all over your neck.
Let’s race back,
To nights full of desire,
Screaming „I love you“
As we set sheets on fire.
Take my hand
And let’s give up on freedom
Instead we can destroy each - other
Again and again and agian.
It's really a shame nobody to blame
But not being able to add a pic to explain
A write a poem upon this site HelloPoetry
Mostly why I use www.etastic a lot again

If that was possible it would be grand
Many would know why you say what you say
But I've looked and tried to find a .immage transfer
But no luck so far as it goes without cost upon this day ..

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018
In some crazy way
like  being loved
Poetry  gives me
Strength and
Motivation
at times it’s
all I  have
It’s where
I escaped
It’s Where I
feel right at home  
my happy
state of mind
Where I take
my mental
Essence to
a higher plateau
Where words
becomes Arts
Never ceased
to amazed
Let the ink
dance  with
my mind  
Tango enlightenment
Impossible to avoid
ink splattered
all over
my thoughts
It’s like swimming
In the  Black Sea
with full consent
into a black hole
Impossible to
let go
Orientation put
me into a dazed
But not for long
anticipating
memory fades
Ruined  expressions
like mind on fire
seeking for the  river
Put words together
analyzed all
the dance strides
my ink had taken
Scrutinized  
what It all means
and make sense
      of it all
Nevertheless
keep my insanity
Is The duel
being  fought
Enduringly
into the abyss of
The poetic  mind
Sometimes even when I’m not trying to think About what to write , without notice without warning words starts popping inside my head to a point at times I may have to stop whatever it is that I’m doing to write it down before it disappears for ever ... not an easy task but it’s what I love doing ;)
I gave up writing letters when the frost set in
Having tied each bunch with coloured ribbon
So those clearing out could identify the writer
Before packing into bags for their final home.

Mother’s letters were always playful with a lot of
Funny drawings and a multitude of little sayings
There was often a five pound note for the children
And lots of kisses and hugs to each and everyone .

They came regular at holiday times when distant
Kept us apart and she and I felt unexpectedly sad
For we lived like each other, inside tins and things
Buttons and bows, flower pots, coffee-sponge cake.

I have her letters in drawers, inside books and cards
I have her glasses and blue case, last pair of shoes
A scarf where there remains the scents of The Island
The beach and sea, salty air and a jar of cold cream.

Love Mary to her mum xxxx
I took the left path where hydrangeas grew and sleepy primroses under woods, edged shady trees.
The empty stream ran quietly dry
With grass cuttings piling high.
If one peeped, one would find tiny creatures
To cast a sparkle here and there, a delight.
So on tip-toe, with sandels bent
Up high I reached to take
The plastic fairy as she twirled a pirouette
In a theatre made by chance.
Reflected in a silver mirror intwinned with ivy branch
A mottled foal tends his dreams and Chrismas robin chirps.

My brother took the right hand path where the trees grew fruit
Ripe berries from the gooseberry bush bulged their prickles.
Dangling from hawthorn now a cowboy with a hat
Looking for his fellow Indian with the yellow back sack.
Sheep gather in a hollow, dark, protected from the sun
And Mr toad, now lost of paint, has turned a bit glum.

And so we leave our woodland friends and travel up the *****
Winding round the rose bed and goldfish where they float.
Then up we climb, the middle route, to jump the pruned clipped
Hedge.
The lawn divided in two halves, a contemporary taste.

Now we're nearly at that place where if one was to turn
Could see down across the land
To the sea and sand.
Of all the beauties that I've known
Nothing beats this Island home.

Love Mary x




My grandfather’s retirement bungalow was in Totland Isle of Wight.
It was named Innisfail meaning ‘Isle of Ireland’.
Behind, the garden led down to magical and delightful to children who came as visitors. My grandfather would prepare this woodland with some suitable surprises.
The garden and woodland deserved its own name and in retrospect
Is now named ‘Innislandia’ to suggest a separate, mysterious land.
Beyond the real world.
In the poem A Country Lane on page 8 the latched gate is the back gate to my grandparent’s garden and bungalow in Totland as above.
John Garbutt wrote the following piece on the meaning of the name 'Innisfail'.

My belief that the place-name came from Scotland was abandoned
on finding the gaelic origins of the name.
‘Inis’ or ‘Innis' mean ‘island’, while ‘fail’ is the word for
Ireland itself. ‘Innisfail’ means Ireland. But not just
geographically: the Ireland of tradition, customs, legends
and folk music, the Ireland of belonging.
So the explanation why the Irish ‘Innisfail’ was adopted as the name
of a town in Alberta, Canada, and a town in Australia,
can only be that migrants took the name, well  over a century ago
to their new homelands, though present-day Canadians
and Australians won’t have that same feeling about it.

------------------------------------------------------------­---------
The bungalow was designed by John Westbrook, who was an architect, as a wedding present for his father and Gwen Westbrook.
I do believe he also designed the very large and beautiful gardens.
It is there still on the Alan Bay Road. Love Mary xxxx
 Jun 2018 Jackie Mead
Jeff Gaines
The Angels must all be taking a break
or this now-rotten world has them all busy somewhere.
And I am in fear for heaven …
as God seems so intent on calling you back there.

Such a better place it is …
this world here with you in it.
My life has found this blissful peace …
and an admiration because you never quit.

I've read he will never bestow upon you,
something that you can't handle.
I guess it's true, as your light seems to come
from an eternally burning candle.

It's flame has shown me images
of your life, loves and times.
Eloquent, beautiful, filled with memories
that flow like water through the rhymes.

Go there then, when your time comes …
Mary Gay Kearns.
Your candle will be shining ever so bright here …
as it forever burns.

You've given us all something …
to see and learn and feel.
You've lived a life that many would envy
and shared these scenes so real.

And when you are gone, you'll never actually be.
In my heart, you're alive, for ever more.
And some day I will touch your paintings,
when I, finally, again cross your shore.

Go, with that smile and be content.
God needs you ... even I can see.
For I am in fear for Heaven …
They must need you desperately.
For those of you that do not know Mary Gay Kearns, please, go to her page here:

https://hellopoetry.com/u706104/

Or read the last poem that I wrote about her here:

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2400034/finding-mary/


She is as wonderful and talented a poet as has ever been. Having been given a terminal diagnosis, she has stood strong fighting back and through it all brought us more and more amazing poetry.

But now, she has been given even more bad news and more severe diagnosis.  It saddens me so and when I learned of this, I thought that "Heaven must really need you", to be seemingly trying so hard to take you from us.

That was the inspiration for this poem as much as Mary herself. She is an amazing woman.
 Jun 2018 Jackie Mead
Midnight
your words exactly:
"i believe our paths were meant
"to intersect,
"but not to sustain.
"to touch,
"but not to cling.
"to meet,
"but not to unite. "
and i still love you,
despite.
You kind of broke my heart when you told me this, so abrasively, over a warm beer and a shared cigarette at 4 in the morning.
 Jun 2018 Jackie Mead
Lyn-Purcell
Dreaming in my mind
Walking under blue moonlight
on clouds of yonder
I once had this dream of walking on clouds under a blue moon in a long white dress.
Loved it because I woke up the next day with a really calm mind.
Be back soon!
Lyn ***
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