Warm in the Whisper

Warm in the whisper,
Late Midas rays ease the wind’s chill.

Deep vermillion stains
The red brick twilight,
painting on the slick black ocean
the day’s farewell.

Along the shore of the harvestless sea,
he strolls, his barren dreams
impediment to sleep.
He stoops, tears strafe
down icy cheeks, staining them with grief.

She plunges down like a hawk
From snowy Olympus,
Apology for wings,
Her love the soft uplifting rush of haste.

She kisses his flowing pain,
Embraced by grateful arms and
Wrapped in forgiveness. . .

The moon smiles.

Brazen Tide

Newly coiffed ocean
curled with highlighted tips,
flirts outrageously with
herculean cliffs.

Lightning spanks the waves.
Thunder remonstrates and
a disapproving moon
draws the brazen tide
back a decent distance.

The curls now straight and
highlights just a twinkle,
a respectful tide returns
apologetically, to lap
the pebble beach
in quiet respect.

All is forgiven

Unclaimed Legacy

She loaned her hair to the playful wind,
to toss and tangle in the cause of fun;
to wind around each gust
and curl as do the clouds
in an Autumn hurricane.

She showed her smile to the sun
to inspire its brilliance;
enough to share with the moon
and scatter among the stars
in a treacle sky.

She offered her heart to the broken world,
to mend its hurt and heal its scars;
she loved the unlovable,
touched the untouchable,
with her kindness
and wisdom.

She slipped away

Missed by the wind and the sun. . .

But the world forgot the love.

You kissed my eyes to wakefulness
and traced my lips with your finger
until they smiled.

Heaven is blue.
I saw it in your gaze,
through the tears your pity brought.

Your essence
was a promise,
kept by moonlight.

In the morning
I dressed in your favourite dress. . .

fortunately it was black.

LOST

Defiant granite fists of cliff
scarred sore by vengeful tempest,
scything squall.

Towering testament
to battles fought and won;
stained by tides unleashed
of Hades quench.

Unforgiving guardians of place.

She stands atop.

Her hair tossed wild
by playful breeze now tame.
She is swathed in woven drape
thrown shoulder wide
for careless warm.

Her mirror tears
reflect his ship lost South,
beyond horizon's reach
to Heaven's sea.

Her granite friends stand firm,
remind her soul
of times when he returned,
of laughter shared,
of flesh made one,

a new life stirs. . .

a rose is tossed.

Sun Blocked!

Cliche`s unappreciated,
fall as leaves from Autumn tree,
metaphors like closing doors
conceal their message silently.

Alliteration reaps frustration,
muddled messages maligned,
Conjugations' variations
dangerously ill designed.

Spondee's non-syllabic form
as dactyls invoke terror,
my tetrameter's non-trochaic,
pure iambic error.

Slake my thirst , uncork the flow
from inspiration's jeroboam,
burst the dam of jumbled words
to grant an innovative poem!

The Rocking Chair

Rocking gently, soothing kindly,
burnished wood, frames
friend of years.

Age old warmth, lit soft by memory,
sweetened anguish,
nectared tears.

Place of peace or rock of ages,
heirloom etched
by love honed scyth.

Woven threads of precious wisdom,
Passed by thoughts
on whispered sighs.

New life cradled,nurtured, treasured,
passed to life
by loving arms

One day to complete the circle,
rocked in age
by an old friend's charms.

Storm 2

Blackened fury rolls and climbs,
Satan's cauldron boils
where sunlight played
and Hellfire slashes sky's dark throat
as Angels flee and Heaven quakes.

Thor proclaims his Majesty
with mighty thunder voice
as trembling world lies cowed,
birdsong silenced, mankind hushed,
as Freyja floods the world.

But this must shortly pass
and crystal sun shall triumph over all,
her quiet glow kiss raindrops
'til colours mixed on Heaven's palette
arch in celebration

Light has conquered dark,

birds sing,

all is well.

I Like Sitting Here

I like sitting here, I can be with my friends.
Of course Gladys can't hear now and Elsie can't bend
but we chatter, I know we repeat what we say,
sometimes once, sometimes twice, sometimes ten times a day. . .
but I like sitting here, at eleven and three,
comes the lass with the trolley and a nice cup of tea.

It's just as I'd brew it, they do very well,
if it wasn't quite right, there's no way that we'd tell,
yes I like sitting here and the staff are so kind,
although busy and bustling but still never mind,
they serve me my breakfast, my dinner and tea
and they never forget, I need help with all three.

Yes I like sitting here, quietly closing my eyes,
I drift through my youth, with its laughter and sighs. . .
and though nobody sees through the wrinkles and age,
I am once again young, with youth's glory and rage.
I dance like a feather, borne only by love,
and the magic of moonlight that twinkles above. . .
and I scream at the hussey, who strived, planned and schemed,
to steal my first true love and key to my dreams.

Yes I like sitting here and I'm never ignored,
I see all the same people and yet I'm not bored,.
I could be alone in some garret or slum,
yet I'm here in this Heaven, where lucky old come.
I was independent, but I couldn't cope,
I tried but I struggled and given I'd mope. . .
it made all-round good sense to move into this home,
where I'd never be lonely, or struggle alone.

Yes I like sitting here, my memories can thrive,
I can dream of my husband and wish him alive.
Oh we had such a love, youth may not comprehend
all the joy and contentment, we thought had no end.

When he went to the war, we thought both hearts might break
and I feared for the sacrifice, maybe I'd make.
He spent years as a prisoner but when my thoughts roam,
they drift to the wonderful day he came home!

Of course some of my friends are much older but fitter,
some do the 'Times' crossword and one is a knitter.
They help me, include me and don't mind my chatter.
I sleep at a party and know it won't matter.
I like sitting here, I feel happy and safe.
I know I can spend all my days in this place.
I know they won't move me, they're not that unkind,
'cause I like sitting here, I'm at peace in my mind.

Love's Evening

Let's not sail the distant stars,
nor ride the crescent moon
we'll let the Angels sleep on clouds
'til sunrise lifts the gloom.

Let's not ride the ocean waves
or chariots of fire,
nor cruise the seven seas and back
nor hear a heavenly choir.

Just hold my hand in quiet content
and softly speak my name,
share with me the joining
of two hearts become the same.

Let us not reach for youth's desire
instead, in older 'guise,
may we, in peace, enjoy the love
reflected in our eyes.

The softness of our lives grown old
makes gentle, loves bright song
and wraps us both in quiet joy
'til life's sweet day is gone.

Tied With a Ribbon

Tied with a ribbon. . .the letters of war,
of love torn apart. . .of ink touched dreams
written as he starved, of food, of comfort,
of life without guards, of love without bars.

Private thoughts read by an enemy,
shared with jailers, spoiled by their sight
but sealed with a kiss that nurtured hope
on two sides of a bloody void.

Reunited. . .flesh wounds healed,
scarred thoughts bravely denied,
together again in love and forgiveness,
'til life was spent and rest was shared.

Left in tribute, tied with ribbon. . .

paper memories,

a love undefeated.

Faith

Precious thoughts,
gone to silent thief
with jackdaw stealth,

to searing nest
of melting gold,
where alchemy
destroys a dream
in flames of change.

Burn my lost desire,
cremate my sketch for life

but set aside my hope
and spare belief,

for faith will see me triumph in the end.

Deny Me Not!

Deny me not my daily bread,
my dustbowl life brings hunger's threat;
my water is a roulette sip
contamination's random bet.

Deny corruption's evil thieves
and hasten aid to starving souls,
irrigate the barren earth
and purify the water holes.

Deny me not my right to life
and gift my child the right to learn,
I beg you from my hungry heart,
you have so much. . .it is our turn.

Dark and Light

Treacle darkness coats leaves
on gnarled branches ancient born;
sleeves the trunk of mighty oak
whose roots descend on creeping quest.

The path is lost, the way is blind,
Orion stumbles stars extinct,
yet overhead a screeching owl
defies the black and carves the air.

---------

Ruby wound, horizon born,
bleeds to gold in eastern hope.
A bird extols relief and joy
with trilling voice, from lofty perch.

Blackened threat melts slow to blue
as light in triumph claims the day,
while trembling dew, drops soft to green,
as life is stirred on thirsty quest.

----------

In a circle, life revolves
where light and dark are seamless match,
throughout the eons past and new
through fear and celebration both,
a rolling revelation. . .
gift of birth and price of death,
of roaring storm and tranquil sun,
rejoicing in a history
of challenge met and battles won.

Slipping. . .

From fading mind,
words slip,
slip, slip.

Untraceable, forgotten,
precious treasure lost
to tip of tongue,
just as vivid dreams
lose their gaudy tale
to opened eyes.

Part sentence,
story, motto, rhyme -
vague,
hanging. . .
just out of reach.

Memories
of razor reality
remain to taunt,
as concentration
abandons thought.

Fear is wrapped
in cotton wool confusion,
where life is soft,
quiet,
unchallenged by reason. . .

peace?

A 'Wealthy' Man

He hears the tinkling joy
of stream caressing
gleaming pebbles,
misses the silver javelins
here and gone
in a heartbeat.

Pearlised darts
skim the water.
Colours borrowed from a rainbow
shimmer on quadruple wings.

White stucco walls
love the sun,
boasting their joining
and shunning the shadows.

Bees hum
a somnolent tune
played on wings
moved at the speed of light,
yet life is precious slow,
in sunlight,
its glories free to all.


He lies in thick meadow grass,
wearing a hat rejected by the rich
and glories in his wealth.

Time Passes. . .on

She held the hand of time,
ran through youth
carefree as the breeze.

As her steps slowed
time flew on ahead,
until,
finally exhausted. . .

it ran out.

Silence

To share silence
when a bridge of love
spans the quiet air,

is a double blessing,
a gift of peace,
a joining of souls,

come. . . sit with me.

Goodnight Albert

Hello Albert, is that you,
if it is dear, do come through.
I thought I heard the back door latch,
I should have put it on the catch.

I'm sitting cosy by the fire,
the telly's on. . . a male voice choir.
Do excuse the socks and scarf,
they keep me warm but make folk laugh.

I had ham and egg for tea,
not much you know, it's far from free,
but Pension day is nearly here
and then I'll have a pork chop dear.

No I haven't seen our Bert,
he's busy dear, he has to work
and Carol has a lot to do,
so chances to see her are few.

I'm OK, I sometimes see
the girl next door at twenty three.
She checks that I'm still 'of this world,'
that I'm not dead with all toes curled.

Don't get fussed, I only jest,
at least she checks, it's for the best.
There's no-one else since you passed on,
I miss you so much now you're gone.

We have our chats dear, of a kind,
bit one sided, never mind.
At least I can pretend you're here
it helps, imagining you near.

Well, I think it's time for sleep,
before I break and start to weep.
Come with me Albert, tuck me in,
and thank you dear for everything.

Faith

Precious thoughts,
gone to silent thief
with jackdaw stealth,

to searing nest
of melting gold,
where alchemy
destroys a dream
in flames of change.

Burn my lost desire,
cremate my sketch for life

but set aside my hope
and spare belief,

for faith will see me triumph in the end.