Nightmares's Booty.

Missing all appointments,
returning, unshaven ,
to a life-proof house,
old, insulted love-poems
in tarnished tatters
clinging to my chest,
leaves in my hair .
Anon, again , a lucent halo,
an erotic silhouette
a flash from yestereves
soft lays a whisper
and ever so coy
sows another dream....

Espirit........

When night cups the peaks,calms the din,
and distant, folds the shore-line in ,
then here , beneath this hallowed roof,
clean __bereft of weft and woof
of tangled threads and fraying seams,
of wakings rude and webby dreams__
here alone , with eucalypti brooding,
I drowsing drink my poisons all,
sink, and swim in a frog-spawned mire
then plaintive hear her crowning call.
Me ,a gruesome grieving ghost,
soft-croon ,anon, with eye-lids wet,
"I know, I know I died, but please ,
please do not write me off just yet...
do not.... write me off....just yet "

Requiem......

In lands where the lilies blew,
and, shy, once, the three dreams met,
there, anon, in anguish mournful,
unloved cupids, amorous players,
soft-peddle their unsold wares.
There stands a broken David,
there a brooding Thinker lost,
bashful, baleful, blue-bell wreathed,
they rueful wail the unpaid cost.
Have they eyes and do not see,
what moths and tapers burning wrought,
in wanton, whoring , wasted realms
bleeding hearts are never bought ?

The Way-farer.

Yeah ! she's of me ,and a sliver of my soul
to reach her somehow is my ultimate goal.
But I won't hurry, or return with my fears
I'll travel , and travel ,and travel for years.
Sit on milestones,reminisce, again make bold,
and anchor on her shores when I am old.
Wiser for the voyage ,richer in kind
and if she be another's ,I won't mind.
And if she aint lovely ,well let her be
she gave me this journey ,did'nt she ?

The Waning.

And there he was.
Gathering droplets, wet ,
of days gone by;
each trickle forsooth
a promised quenching.
Days on days ,years on years,
shaping, a bucket green,
of soft-gleaned strawlets made.
Then saw ,reflected,
in that darkling gloam,

that shimmering whirl,
his crescent moon..
A sudden storm, a thunderclap.
No bucket . No moon in the bucket.
Emptiness in his hand....

Bodies of love !!

I caress the darkness
of innocent forms .
I touch nothing .
Where the sniffle ?where the moxie ?
where the evanescing, dubious doxy?
So few are given us to love,
ah! so few, gods above.
And this the way we all survive,
touching the scabs of ancient wars ,
defaulting to the oldest scars .
Why is fate written in the body
and never , never in the stars ?

Ascent

My road ;
that dappled,darkling, winding stair,
a spiral out of cloistered growing,
upward to a tortured knowing.
There, around a corner unlit,
 hidden lurked some unlived days,
nostalgic shadows from the past,
yielding hsiens to devils cast.
A flight below the body's awning,
under the windowed ,tattered soul,
she whispered thru' a-veiling twill,
"let consequences spill how they will ".
And, panting I , a boy in love,
strung where the bee-mouth sips,
of tremulous hands and lucky lips,
tripped on doorsill of a dream,
clutched the hem of innocent charms,
and breathless folded in her arms.

Deep-sea Blues !

Were you fain,my love
to weigh pennies of truth
`gainst wages of blight,
a sifting sieve,
for honest darkness,
for sinful light ?

Flowing Savannah !
river of my longing heart,
row me along thy shorelines,
sputtering, half-drowning,
`mong fluming eddies of desires,
in urgent,lapping ,icy fires.

Suck me under,Whirlpool !
draw me unto thy silence--
thy tears my prayer--
and my elusive mermaid be,
string tied and fancy-free.

Amour-soft gossamer ,
my transporting metaphor,
melting ,soft-yielding,
coalesce,then just be,
my ambrosial flow
and, my final word :Thou !

Blushful Spring

Will you, my love ,
for just this once,
with my lillies blow,
flush pink in my roses,
rub memory's petals,
and, bashful ,glow ?
In that heart-warmed clover,
that darkling meadow,
where I died for love
under the dark cuppola
 of your mystic shadow,
will you, my love,
diaphanous wings a-sway
alight....and soft kiss
life's autumn away ?
Then gentle,unbenownst like,
un-nail my cross,
make whole the ruined,
and brooding find
the absent cosmos ?

Won't you, my love ..???

 ·

Just This Once....

When pleasure is not
a pattern ,nor
a Paradigm shift
from gloss,and , your loss,
methink you slurp with felinity,
sup with masculinity
and soft ,do purr,
blazing eyes a-blur
in anguished divinity.
Then ,for just a while,
I fondly smile,
polite to myself,
deceiving elf........

Contours of Time

Years. Again I stand
here, `neath my Jasmine bush,
a witness mute,
to a throbbing `then'
a still-born `now',
those falling petals,
ruined and marvelous,
all at once.
I reach across
the in-between,and,
soft trace a shape,
an angular face,
a tenuous belief
made real.
A double take, and she,
the inside-shake
of my ruined heart,
raises half an eyelid,
beams and ,breaks
into spots and dust.
Infinity.

The Third Coming

You miss someone
in lands where once
spontaneity had a memory,
an echo of sameness,
a dark, delicious giving in .
It's an odd missing...for,
beyond all eternities,
you finally know
the meaning of forever .
And you miss someone,
 feel the welling, the stab,
in ocean eyes of loss,
your bit of grit, the only
pearl in your oyster.
It's an odd missing ,coz'
beyond all tears ,
smiling thru' mists ,you know
the meaning of now.
Between now and forever
pants the nomad ,
my wandering Oisin,
the climactic moment......

Razor's Edge

What you did
was not love
but a gesture
towards a dream,
a cautious stir
in the cauldron
of your rejections.
`Twas but a moan
from that funny ol' bone
of desire....rare gooseflesh
on the arms of routine.
Was nary a soft,
a soft reminder
of flattened grass,
of blushing fingertips
tracing tender paths.
Instead ,it was heard
as a stealthy slide,
a sibilant whisper
in soft conched ears
of sleeping innocence.
And I ,precarious ,
on the edge of choice,
pondered but a moment,
let go, and fell,
like gravity's apple,
on the head of need.....

The Taken Roads

Some walks you have to take alone:

The one where you,
in a devil's pact,
walked decades
towards undulations
of passionate forms,
each rise and fall
a promised reaching.

That ,which steep,
draws, hesitant , back
the hinder foot still firmer;
where cornered innocence
stares, transfixed,
in cross-hairs of
an unforgiving moment.

And on paths where you,
oftimes ,would hear,
the crackle of melting snows,
and, in the yonder,
a rhythmic cadence
of surrendering anklets
homing in........

Some walks you have to take alone.

The Falconer !

And I have let them go,
one by loved one,
unlatching protecting cages
within,locking doors
against their return.
Between being and becoming,
face fresh with sorrow, I,
oyster of a single tear,
float with the Angler,
dangle with the bait,
smell mortality on my hand,
and choking.......say ,
"it is better this way "

Grecian Dreams

The Oread of the rainbow glen
fixes me in charcoal stares,
those emberous whirligigs of fires
twin pixies of warm desires;
limpid, ask the Actaeon hounds,
"why his scars precede his wounds ?"
Her lips with Restoration blest,
then soft,trace the fevered brow,
.wetly, wake me with a start,
tender, tug the strings of heart,
pull me 'neath a hyacinth tree
and bring the Narcissus out in me.........

The Lost Horizon

Where fireflies light the darkling gloam
and ever the brambled magpies cower,
there once did dwell my childhood dream
that ruined prince of a lonely tower.

Dream it was that did wake first
then the Horn and then the Drummer,
cupped its ears ,ironic, whispered
"did that swallow make your summer "?

And I the beadle, eagle-eyed
sentinel of a playful dove,
wistful, wasted , weary ,murmur
"ah ! I could not hold that love.

It wrenched and teary ,skyward flew
and pausing, perched a-top a steeple,
said "goodbye ! lords of sleeping truths ,
I ain't so good at losing people ".

Time and Tide

With gratitude to Taseer who ,I know not how ,knew that it is a rainy sunday in my neck of woods.Thinking then ,of flowing waters , choppy seas and life's parade passing me by .......

Is it a longing seaward stare
or just a droopy quay-side look
do I take the tide on flood
or let the shallows be my brook ?

The glimmering beach-head beckons still
with splintered hour-glasses strewn,
did the sands just vacuous sift
or time on view-less wings has flown ?

But hark ! anon, when rainbow flumes
whisper to the clouds that fly
I tautly tensile raise my fist
and salute before the ship goes by.

The Caveman .

Sleepless , piling hour on hour
hearing all eternities rage ,
straw by solitary straw ,and slow
I fondly raise a hermit's cage.

Here ,around the hedgerows wild
entangled ,autumn blossoms bloom,
a snaking ,smoking ,heart-warmed hearth
skyward lifts the gathering gloom.

Will you now, my playful nymph
hear a goading from above,
tender, touch my eyelids wet
and finally ,finally be my love ?

umbra !

A land where the three dreams meet
and penumbrous glitter the unlit ways,
where daisies bloom in dewy nights
then wail a-pace for darkling days.

Where winking wavelets beading bubbles
reflect the hues of a maiden's blush,
where men do huddled sit and hear
that music of an ambrosial hush

Where verses penned in yesteryears
merge softly in a tangible sorrow,
where deferred hopes ,coalescing , pine
once ,just once ,for a cheery morrow

There ,alone ,in a twilight zone
will you leave the `how' and `why',
look downward twice and upward once
then sweetly , shyly , mur mur `hi '?

Amore' !!

When disarmed stars
without their spears,
tenuous ,trembling, hanging low
ancient glittering eyes a-glow,
forgive the world with a tremulous sigh
and crave a wish to be broken by.

When haughty falcons stalking prey
quiescent,calmly ceasing hunt ,
feel the twinge that inward gnaws
.unsure, unhinge ,unhook their claws,
then shy ,and sometime sweetly tart
spare the dove of lonely heart.

When slumberous, doleful, teary-eyed
I wake up in some fairy land,
where circling in a rapturous trance
the daring,dreamy, damsels dance,
who turn the jig and coyly twirl
and pull me into a misty whirl.

Then, on a leading from above
I will write a poem of love.........

Handy Dandy ....

I look at joys' azure faces
those mutant selves of truth and blight,
armed with auspicious dragon dreams
quell phantoms of the lonely night.

Then play the oracle tic-tac-toe
dying by lot ,living by lot ,
sowing crosses ,reaping ciphers
what could have been and what would not.

... Pause ! ye dancers of Antic Hay
no rainbows wait ,no pots of gold ,
and wail not, thou with cleaten feet
life's a tale that's already told........