our bread and butter...
     the web of stars,
     the scatter of moons
     and orbiting planets.
the entire universe
harvested and crammed
into the metre,
of a poetic verse.

our bread and butter...
     harnessing the regal rays of the sun.
     inflating the fluff of quiet clouds.
     drinking up the winds of the weather.
     revering the magic in the flight of birds.
we fill our cups to the brim...
with fantastical dreams
and let spill
over parchment
the cornucopia of idealised words.

our bread and butter...
the incessant peeling and picking
on healing wounds.
of which we have learnt to savour...
     let bleed
     the willing blood...
     feed the seeds
     with impending flood.
nurture to fruition
thoughts stunted in discretion.
bring to light
thoughts hidden in the nether.

our bread and butter...
we dip...
the nibs,
of our word worn feathers.
let them sink,
shallow beneath the surface
to the sanctity of a familiar place.
     *casting our trials,
     and tribulations...
     pent up emotions,
     and what we think
     unto paper
     with the burn of
     everlasting ink.

One pulls me down in a sea of tenderness
safe gentle lapping waves of love and comfort
so soothing like a warm summer pond in the south
He is my anchor

The other loves me like a wild forbidden passionate rush
an all consuming type of love, making the world disappear
clinging to a life raft in a turbulent sea
He is my storm

Enticing waters with the luminous waves that can tempt the dead from their bed. My soul longs for both. I cannot drift off to peaceful sleep until the waves of desire find their sweet release. A wondrous storm of love in a turbulent sea or a steadfast anchor that has taken hold on a part of me

In their time
In their clime
They did
what they could
And it stood
What do we do
In our time
And in our clime?
Will what we do stand?
O fellow poets, have a heart
Be not like Aeschylus
the poet on Greek shores
so distracted and abstracted
he could not see
the lamagayer's missile
aimed at his shining dome
Your poetic heart should be home
singing sweet phrases to scarred clouds
and healing the wounds
from uncaring man's foolhardy actions
Write poetry to make the ocean's heart
heat up and sweat
Make the clouds ravenous
Till they weep upon the earth
and the world becomes a sea of green

I would wait
Through so many sunsets
And dawns
That time would lose meaning.
I would wait
Until my hair turned grey
And my bones grew tired.
I would wait
While others hurry
Losing sight of what's ahead.
I would wait
Through summer sun
And winter snows.
I would wait for you.
Always.

OLD MAN TIME, I’M YOUR MASTER

Old Man Time,  I’ve tamed you
I am your master
Now it’s me who decide
Whether you move slower or faster.

For too long I’ve given you full reign
To your behest I  servilely did surrender-
Gone, no more your tyranny
Enough courage I have managed to muster

And how glad I am
To be free from your fetter
You coerced , you pushed, you bullied
But I’m no machine—I know better

What I want from life and what I should do
Surely not to be your slave or follower
What does it matter to you
Whether I’m in the office or wander

In my garden or read my favourite poems
Play my violin or admire the wonder
Of the dawn,  the glory of sunset and its last glow
Why should you bother?

You should by now have realized
You owe your existence to man’s quest for order
You have a life only because we are kind
You are but a metaphor!

So leave me alone, you wearisome old man
Don’t you dare again look me  over the shoulder
The world is what I make of it—I am my own mentor
As for you, I’d recommend you go into a long, long slumber!

FOOTNOTE:  poetry is often a leap of the imagination and, with this, poets can write anything or fly to any place in the entire universe-
ergo--no poet can ever have dull moments.  
Sanctified by his love for truth, beauty and adventure and also his need for release of his thoughts, feelings and emotions, he becomes larger than what he is and his life is infinitely enriched.

Ma heart it bleed
I ware dis heart
On dis Italian sleeve.
I'm sick of *******
And men who are sleeze.
I take this me
And recreate.
What is past
I keep it past
What is now
Stay now.
But I will get
To da betta man
Soon somehow.
I'm ****
Kool
A babye gurl
Looking for da right one
To rule ma world.
Where are yuo babye boye?
Jake lefte
At least I thinke.
So now what do I do.
What do I say
Ma heart is cutting me down
I feel ma self buried in grave.

Don need some boye
Trying to feel me up,
I want him to feel me inside
And burst ma lust.