first glance invites
the lowered eyes
the tentatively touching finger tips
evokes in brush of lips to lips
a whispering exhalation
skin to skin then initiates
a wuthering inhalation
but then is the line crossed
from innocent blush
from fleeting first glance
gathering
to
suffocating
all embracing
obsession
and  possession

I stare at you through the foliage of everyday life
the thorns, the blossoms, the moss that carpets all
I am the wild thing that lives in every girl and woman
I have bloomed throughout the years of heartache
of happiness, of all that enriches the world and self

do you ever remember
who once we were
when we were young
what laughter we shared
what songs we sung
you whose hands I hold
grown suddenly old

Do you see me soar above you?
do you hear the pulse of my wings
do you see the beauty of my feathers
where the dew of healing clings

Do you taste with me the scent of clouds
that carry a Tempest's rain
Do you feel with me the refugees
who suffer poverty and pain

Do you see the great high mountains
the valley, glen and dale
do you see the vast grey oceans
where the ships in beauty sail

Come with me on my journey
you can do so in your mind
forget the shores of unrest
and leave them far behind

See the iced Antarctica
the bergs that fill the sea
see the mighty Jungles where
nature struggles to roam free

See the blackened Ocean depths
where oil its stain has spilled
see the empty African plateaus
where all wildlife has been killed

Now say for me a heartfelt prayer
take the healing from each wing
lift your voices O my brothers
and my Sisters, come and sing!

I fall
down through the dark mists of grief
it's shadows closing about me
extending my arms to memories
I need now to be corporeal
to hold me close
to stay my fall
to restore all
that is lost
that is past
with no conditions
let me land
on Terra Firma
not on the stormy waves
of heartache

Early morning
Early morning is where both moon and poet unite
both in seeing and bringing into this world their light


The greedy sun
As the greedy sun peels back orange horizons
the hungry poet licks lips, and savours imagination

Too important are the words I long to say to you
for far too long do they lie buried in my heart
so why do they only surface from the lake of
my subconsciousness when we are far apart?

Why do such things stand like crumbling landmarks
that life's time and tide can wash too swiftly away
why can I go and buy you gifts and yet still
find hardest all those words that I need to say?

And why, when those words do erupt like molten magma
why, when my face, my eyes, my desperation betray
do those who should listen, not just stare at me
blank their eyes and turn dismissively away?

I should be allowed to tell of my own heartache
for is it not there in my dreams, and in my very soul
so why when I open the book of my revelations
can you not stay, not listen, not make me whole?

Let me tell you how I feel, let you not my secret
heartaches, my secret dreams deny or steal
fix upon me your eyes, listen to the words I tell
and then, only then will you truly know me well

she owned a deep shining lustre
a truly translucent gem of a girl
laughing, glowing, headstrong
with her head always in a whirl
but his was the eye of an
angler keen, he cast his net
and swiftly he reeled her in
recognising barnacle tendencies
deep beneath that lustrous skin
His ******* was longing for her
fresh as an oyster she slipped down well
he swallowed her self confidence
and left her an empty shell

She was his
her eyes fixed upon his needs
expressed in his face
she was his
transfixed
her first glance upon awakening
her last glance before uneasy sleep
She was his
his voice enslaving her
the soft wheedling
the ugly commands disguised
She was his
his hands caressing
his fingers raking her soft, soft skin
She was his
his mind enclosing
enrapturing
her soul
deep within

When the day ends and the sun sets
in glowing sky above a gilded sea
if we were rich you and I, my darling
this is where I would want us to be
away from this dark world
where sometimes it seems
there are tatters of broken dreams
like baleful banners unfurled
so take me into your arms my darling
and love me, wipe my eyes
and subdue my sighs
and let us lie together beneath
these golden skies

Too important are the words I long to say to you
for far too long do they lie buried in my heart
so why do they only surface from the lake of
my sub consciousness when we are far apart?

Why do such things stand like crumbling landmarks
that life's time and tide can wash too swiftly away
why can I go and buy you gifts and yet still
find hardest all those words that I need to say?

And why, when those words do erupt like molten magma
why, when my face, my eyes, my desperation betray
do those who should listen, not just stare at me
blank their eyes and turn dismissively away?

I should be allowed to tell of my own heartache
for is it not there in my dreams, and in my very soul
so why when I open the book of my revelations
can you not stay, not listen, not make me whole?

Let me tell you how I feel, let you not my secret
heartaches, my secret dreams deny or steal
fix upon me your eyes, listen to the words I tell
and then, only then will you truly know me well

She was his
her eyes fixed upon his needs
expressed in his face
she was his
transfixed
her first glance upon awakening
her last glance before uneasy sleep
She was his
his voice enslaving her
the soft wheedling
the ugly commands disguised
She was his
his hands caressing
his fingers raking her soft, soft skin
She was his
his mind enclosing
enrapturing
her soul
deep within

I am hungry for I am empty
since you left me
empty of hope and belief
I know nothing now but uncertainty,
yet everything of heartache, misery and grief
the book of my life has too many pages
dog-eared and damp
with the tears of loneliness
wrinkled by the gnawing of fear
yellowed by the scorching of inclement rages
for peace is a stranger, an alien conception
for I, who desire nothing more
than to feel full of relief

once it was the bouquets
the dark red velvet roses
the white ghosted Arums
then the chocolates in elaborate
be-ribboned boxes
the creme centres, sugared almonds
the ginger tasting on eager tongue
aah. but those never lasted long
then came the jewellery
necklaces, bracelets, rings,
and those other not so mentionable things
and him, his lips upon hers
his fingers fastening, unfastening
buttons, then stroking, skin to skin
but she was aging
voice and looks no longer appealing
rouge, mascara, henna, greasepaint
non of her imperfections now concealing
neck, shoulders, back, aching
those once nimble fingers
fast becoming thumbs
and all was vanishing
that illusion of perfection
that enviable slice of all that was good
fast becoming
simply
crumbs

We fear, yet respect you, as diminutive determined invaders
nibbling like too eager lovers at necks, faces, arms, and skin
invading our fragile human air space like sneaky chinooks
your poison injecting into all the cavities that lie deep within

We bow to your humming, into our eardrums eerily drilling
dreading the cratering with your probing insectile missiles
as you target the ****** territories of our all too human flesh
your determined approach that old instinctive fear instilling
knowing nets do not dissuade you no matter their size of mesh

We praise you, as shrilling, chilling choristers of the Tropics,
admire you as enemies, secretive, invincible, secreting unease
recognizing your sustained mission to dominate humankind
as you move ever Northward with an invading army's expertise

Death does not distinguish between the evil and the good
Death knows of no class barriers nor respects any neighborhood
Death does not time by watch or clock when he comes to call
nor cares what weapons he uses to put an end to all

Death wears no distinguishing marks his identity to show
does not live in lofty Mansions nor in basements down below
He may drive a Jaguar or Rolls or a far less desirable car
he may come from close to hand or may travel wide and far

He may carry a gun or sword or bomb it matters not to him
he may by careful planning come or just appear at a whim
he may well appear in designer gear or rags all tattered and torn
he may be full of beard and hair or his head be covered or shorn

He may be young and fair of face, or beautifully formed
or be the skulking stranger disheveled and deformed or
the man at the Barber's, with sharp scissors in his hand
or the man with the laptop quietly studying devilish plans

He may look like the man who long has lived next door
or the one who's just moved into your neighborhood
he may look like a shifty stranger or the man who at
Church or temple or Mosque seems to be doing good

Never trust in Death to appear as you would wish him to
for Death has a thousand disguises to mystify me and you
he's the Universal Sorceror, the man of the changing face
he comes to all, in every land, is known to all and every race

Death may even be a woman, she of the sweetened smile
she of the husky voice who can enthrall you and beguile
Death may even be that youngster with a grenade in hand
Death may appear in your home town or in a distant land

Death has been the final enigma, through time to times anon
and Death shall wait in the wings of the great Theatre of life
Until the great curtains close and all the audience has gone
And all shall look upon Death when their life draws to an end
but shall Death at the first look be repulsed as an enemy
would be - or with open arms be welcomed as a friend?

Love is the arm that warms you
on a cold, wet, Winter’s night
Love is the memory of his face
in her heart when he is out of sight
Love is the arms that reach out
to help someone in need
Love is the old and trembling hand
that yet nurtures a tiny seed
Love is the smile on a Mother’s face
when her child lies in her arms
Love is the force that drives a
Lover into those waiting arms
Love is the golden rings
that upon her finger glow
Love is reading the letters
that he penned so long ago
Love is cherishing those memories that
can overcome grief
Love is - quite simply -belief

Tell me I am not forgotten
tell me that I have
a place in your heart
tell me that my face is
still in your mind’s eye
that our love
has not fallen apart

Tell me that you
will never leave me
that by my side
you will always stay
tell me that I am not praying in vain
just
please
do not go away

as silken petals the butterflies  flutter
borne upon the gentle wind
colours vibrating
upward soaring
buttercups
violets
daisies
lilac blossoms
fleeing flora given wing

You, my Astronaut Amore
guided me through a Universe of Dreams
avoiding the black hole of lovelessness
life suddenly held more than it first seemed
As willing Co-Pilot, I gave you my heart
to steer, never wanting you to be empty-handed
yet you chose to fly solo
leaving me stranded

Time, his beloved features.
with its restless hands has re-arranged
but still, the love that I feel for him
remains constant and unchanged

There, in grey depths of minds
enveloped in anxiety
subterranean fears arise

Flooded by tsunami's of fear
the little grey cells
die, clasped in Corona's
crustacean grasp

Author note

Freedom is not gathering in a public place
rather it is the ability to see the empty soul
behind the politician's public face
to stop our ears to Authority's soft cudgel'd speeches
and how to separate the wheat from the chaff
our bumbling so called leaders feed us every day

alone
and silently, internally, she screams
for she knows better than to betray her pain
else the neighbours might hear her
might tell him
or he might see her face tear stained
and will take, as always
his anger, his disappointment
with himself
diluted by
a bottle
a glass
a can
and that lack of these
will precipitate once again
the blackened eyes
the inward tears
the bruised skin
all of those outward signs
that she would once again
have to skilfully disguise
so her scream continues silently
stifled to the world outside
dying to a silent
whimper
as she watches the clock
and waits
for his key
to turn almost silently
in the lock

Your bright smile shone a light in the darkness
that was the heart of an insecure teenage girl
a shimmering St. Catherine's wheel spinning
sending my young mind into a dizzying whirl
All through the days, weeks, months and years
through all of the laughter, sadness, and tears
You are still my Rocket Man, my one and only
for you still shine like a torch that lights my soul
your smile still a bright, blazing rocket soaring
lighting up my heart, and making me truly whole

At the Lake's edge at evening we stood
where emerald lay the grasses
and the sun shone red as blood
where a jay with it's flash of turquoise
sewed a seam at the edge of our view
and crystal swans swam upon
waters of lapis lazuli blue
where a fox in a squirm of russet
slunk to the woodland dim
and black coot chicks with their diamonds of white
paddled mid dun reed rim
then homeward we walked where the pile of stones
in black pyramid loomed on high
and a crescent moon bent its silver horns
in pale homage to indigo sky

Save me your persuasive excuses for they
no longer have sufficient power to impress
no matter how you phrase those words and
no matter how with fancy flowery gestures
that curt and hurtful final goodbye you dress

I am empty now and so deathly cold that
no Sun's warmth can my future ever hold
you emptied all that I was into nothing at all
telling me it was for my own good you were
leaving me yet holding me still in your thrall

With your flattery you put me under a dark spell
but every gift you gave was just an empty token
for leaving that person who loved you so well
is betrayal, and betrayal always means that
someone's trusting heart lies cold and broken

In the last quarter of our span
we do not walk alone
for there are other footsteps echoing
the steps of both woman and man
lighter are those steps and surer
as they tread beside our own
as we grow less sure recalling
hours, days, months, years
and decades that have flown
there is a faltering now and again
‘though only to us known
for those steps echo other times
when sorrows like weeds have grown
and,  just as frequently, there is a skip
- a lift of the latch of the years -
when familiar voices echo
and laughter accompanies tears
but eventually, there is a stillness
and we know then that we walk alone
realising that we are old now
and the child that was within us has flown

coldly, oh so coldly
he told her that she was
no longer the love of his life
but that did not anything explain
as her tears felt like rain
for she still could only relate
to being forever his wife
for she could not shrug off that inescapable fact
that the engine of her love still turned
and that she still held a torch for him
and that the love that she bore for him
still deep within her burned

Our circle of love was as rounded and perfect as
a new world held in my hands and heart
as a silver crescent moon bright and shining
from the start
as a diamond faceted in oh so many ways
a square cut emerald gemstone
echoing the fresh lush greenness
of those first heady days
but all now has ended
come to a sad conclusion
all to an amorphous shape
ill formed, almost a nothingness
vague and half concealed
love that was once the
perfect fresh plucked apple,
red and ripe, has rotted
its inner most being decayed and
set to a bitterness strange and congealed
my hands are stained with my tears
my heart is as black
as deadly nightshade at its core
a dark teardrop pearl malformed and tarnished
beached upon a dark and distant shore
that circle of love that once I thought was ours
once rounded and perfect as a new world
that I held once in my hands and heart
is now a torrent of teardrops
onto the letter fallen
fallen from my trembling hands
a letter ripped - and ripped - apart

Copper leaves, the colour of old coins
scatter in mown emerald grass

Ashy sky streaked with vermillion
gives warning of a coming storm

Strewn hazelnut shells betray the
vagabond squirrel's hunger on the footpath

A sparrow camouflages itself
becoming a part of lilac bush bark

What seems at first glance a twig is
a slug resurrected by early morning rain

A perfectly prismatic necklace of crystals
spangles the empty washing line

Daisy sequins grace the Garden's
gilded gown of dewy grass

Sleepy cat awakes, to become death incarnate
stalking birds on soft and stealthy paws

Whispy white clouds drift cotton-like
on the grey altar-cloth of the horizon

And a solitary mouse erupts from earth burrow
to scurry across my feet

Words are crimson threads spun by my pen
needling my woolly soul for expression,
each a stitch in Life's tapestry
my thoughts long and steely bodkins
I scatter words as sharp and shining pins
each sufficient to raise red upon
the flaccid fabric of empty minds
pinning ideas, often controversially
averse to neither comment nor complaint
I am a human wheel of spin,
pricking consciousness
threading with thought empty consciences

reserved
Her heart gaped open
for all the world to see
whilst his conscience
remained as firmly closed
as an unused rusty zip

Don't be afraid of being left on the shelf
Trust me, don't be afraid of being left on the shelf
For, if born of nothing but the needy love of self
love itself can swiftly become such a selfish thing
when loneliness and passion together take wing

For thus it is that Love is a complicated *******
for it often seeks out that uncomplicated yearning
and then turns it into a thing of so little substance
signifying nothing, and thoughtless, never learning

it assumes many forms, from starlings whirling swarms
to the sweet bluebirds that soft songs so sweetly sing
and white swans that seem the epitome of love so true
all these avian jesters can make a twitching fool of you

Take advice, do not a perch provide when this creature
seeks out a lonely heart in which to settle, roost and hide
for it will so swiftly spread out its darkly feathered wings
and fill your unsuspecting heart with all manner of things

Its fervid fetid feathers of passion will choke your soul
Its probing beak of jealousy will swiftly break your heart
this winged thing called love is a complicated *******
for, born of passions carrion, it will slowly tear you apart

With her lamp, she lit the faces of the soldiers
with her care and her concern and her love
for Florence Nightingale was simply an angel
sent down to Earth from Heaven above

She did not flinch from those terrible wounds
nor from the wounded ones' gangrenous smell
She simply did what the Lord in Heaven told her
gave of her love,. and cared for them well

She had been born into the Gentry
so knowing only riches and wealth
yet she cared so little for her status
just simply for others welfare and health

Now, this whole dark world over
the symbol of her lamp still glows
for wherever, whenever, one sees a Nurse
one sees the love and dedication they show

In all war torn countries, and amid deep poverty
and where now the dark Corona holds sway
still the light that Florence held glows brightly
so turning the darkest nighttime into day

So remember them, as we fall into sleep each night
so remember them when morning's sun brings light
and hold in your hearts and minds their example
supreme, of courage and of love that shines so bright

Days run by like larva
cooled into deep black pools
within my subterranean heart
All I want is for the lockdown to end
so that we are no longer apart

A smile, a glance
he loves me

an angry look
he loves me not

a kiss on the cheek
he loves me

a sly pinch
he loves me not

a tender caress
he loves me

a savage shove
he loves me not

a bouquet of flowers
he loves me

a punch
he * *

No instant click of a switch transforms a life
for life is but a late Summer's dawning
the unpredictable mixing of a storm
bright sun, dark clouds, rain's tears
and doubt's distant thunder's warning

Our circle of love was as rounded and perfect as
a new world held in my hands and heart
as a silver crescent moon bright and shining
from the start
as a diamond faceted in oh so many ways
a square-cut emerald gemstone
echoing the fresh lush greenness
of those first heady days
but all now has ended
come to a sad conclusion
all to an amorphous shape
ill-formed, almost a nothingness
vague and half-concealed
love that was once the
perfect fresh plucked apple,
red and ripe, has rotted
its innermost being decayed and
set to a bitterness strange and congealed
my hands are stained with my tears
my heart is as black
as deadly nightshade at its core
a dark teardrop pearl malformed and tarnished
beached upon a dark and distant shore
that circle of love that once I thought was ours
once rounded and perfect as a new world
that I held once in my hands and heart
is now a torrent of teardrops
onto the letter fallen
fallen from my trembling hands
a letter ripped - and ripped - apart

Tears are something that I shed almost every day
looking at the manner in which we treat this world
seeing the awesome beauty in the flower that unfurls
caressing the softness of a beloved Grandson''s curls
Yes, I know that tears are not always of sadness or of gloom
are not always shed in privacy in the night-silent room
for sometimes they are shed in public, and out there,
out in this wide, wide world, this universe we all share
shed for the valiant soldiers who suffer for the fight
shed for the thousands for whom there is no light
shed as an ocean carries its tides that ebb and flow
shed as the rivers and streams upon eternal wandering go
but the saddest tears that anyone, everyone, can shed
are the tears for the ones from whom all hope has sped
tears for the children whose homes are by war torn apart
tears for the ones who hold no love within their hearts
So never tell me that I should not weep, I should not cry
instead, seek in your own hearts, the reason why

His brown eyes and my blue eyes met
in recognition  across expanse of grass
smile invited smile and even the fairground's
raucous music paused for a heartbeat's while
as time was suspended and swing boats
seemed to stop upon the upward swing, and
in my heart a flock of butterflies took wing

The sun pierced that young heart unsure as yet
of love and it's challenges that must be met
and awakened in me a dream of something
as full of promise as his smile wide and warm
yet fleeting as butterflies in shimmering swarm

And I felt as if a glistening pearl was formed and
held in the as yet unfathomed ocean of my soul
and all that day carried it around as if in a crystal glass
wanting, needing, to keep it forever untarnished and whole

You pulse my heart with that smile
shining from the depths of your dark eyes
your touch fills my body with the whisper
of a thousand trembling sighs
This whole world could be filled
with multitudes of angels all
singing in the same sweet voice
but I could not ever find anything more
beautiful than the company of you
in which I still rejoice
There are oceans out there
that I would swim to carry me back to you
there are forests through which I would walk
all through the night and into the
icy coldness of a frosty Winter’s day
white clouds skimming across the Heavens
and blue birds winging on their ceaseless way
yet, all these would be nothing, nothing
if we ceased to continue loving
each other in that same, sweet way

Do you see me soar above you?
do you hear the pulse of my wings
do you see the beauty of my feathers
where the dew of healing clings

Do you taste with me the scent of clouds
that carry a Tempest's rain
Do you feel with me the refugees
who suffer poverty and pain

Do you see the great high mountains
the valley, glen, and dale
do you see the vast grey oceans
where the ships in beauty sail

Come with me on my journey
you can do so in your mind
forget the shores of unrest
and leave them far behind

See the iced Antarctica
the bergs that fill the sea
see the mighty Jungles where
nature struggles to roam free

See the blackened Ocean depths
where oil its stain has spilled
see the empty African plateaus
where all wildlife has been killed

Now say for me a heartfelt prayer
take the healing from each wing
lift your voices O my brothers
and my Sisters, come and sing!

Survive
be careful
hunker down
avoid the streets
the people, the villages, the Cities, and the Towns
Keep yourself to yourself
avoid the daily news
let your thoughts be filled
with positiveness
find that which keeps you amused
remember the good times
when freedom was for all
listen only to the music that makes you feel good
listen not for the Grim Reaper's call
Keep your memories of your loved ones alive in your dreams
look from your window upon the world
for all is not as dark as it seems
there is still the rustle of the wind
that shakes the flowers and leaves
there is still the song of the evening bird
that shrills on the evening's breeze
there is still that kiss upon your brow
there are still the arms that hold you
there is still his voice that says "I love you"
There... don't you feel better now?

With a single glance, you fill
my eyes, my mind, my soul
with the magic of your captivation,
raising me on golden wings
to make me complete and whole

Your deep, dark brown eyes
have the capacity to mesmerize
making me fall for you again and again
bringing out moonshine bringing sunshine
taking away all Life's storms and its rain

For you are a Sorcerer
you hold me in your spell
with the herbs and spices
of a Master Chef of captivation
you cure me, you make me well

Just maybe darkness is better than light
for they, the wild and animate ghouls
that desire your soul merely stalk
and softly growl but do not bite
surely darkness is better than light
being a shield that you can hide behind
a barrier beyond which the anxious onlookers
cannot peer, and so pierce, your clouded mind
surely darkness is better than light
light that too much reveals
light that shows the stains of life
that darkness so well conceals
they are multitude those night things
the arachnid spinning a web of dark comfort
the moth that shreds the brains dead cells
with softly soothing wings
the centipede sweeping away negative thoughts with swift legs
the unseen bird that cries, that for peace and comfort begs
surely darkness is better than light
a harsh and unforgiving light
where the stranded vessel carrying your dreams
is forever fixed in a glacial world of wicked white

Stronger than steel is that web of love
that between two people is spun
more refreshing than the gentlest of rains
and more warming than the sun

That sleep from which our loved ones do not wake
That drift into nothingness, that silence everlasting
Death takes, and leaves a mere shadow of each self
for us to place words in Memorium or urn upon shelf

An urn that, even if emptied of that ash
into a blaze in home hearth grate
would not as a glorious phoenix
our lost loved ones reincarnate

That sleep from which our loved ones do not wake
that drift into nothingness, that silence everlasting
that Death in all its arrogance our loved ones
for its own perverse satisfaction takes

There is a Gift deep down inside
where nobody else can see
if that gift you can find
let it shine let it shine
let it shine
for you and for me

out of the depths of your heartache
out of the depths of your soul
let the sun come inside
to where that gift hides
fragmented then
let it be whole

It will shine like a beacon
for everyone
it will give this sad world
something good
there’s a gift deep inside
but please don’t let it hide
let it shine
for this sad old world’s good

The impotent wishing
for some merciful being
to shut you off from the
unremitting, almost daily
mixture of
frustration and despair
it's been like this for too long
you wake in the small hours
wondering at the alarm
to all but your inward ear
seeking the tremor of hands
that sudden cramp which
you stretch your limbs
the salty trajectory of the tears
all those times when that faceless one pounced
and still, in ready ambush, lies
and that lost soul sets your pulse to fast
and deep inside you
full of impotence, cries