BRAVO… that's what spirit is all about

a challenge to those who know
that this way they shan't walk again
even alone….

so be thyself
let the world go to hell ,
we have to live
the life ordained
so let it not be by our weakness stained

for tomorrow is definitely preordained
how….
none can that say
but heart within does display,
a desire that's what Loved can now say..

the hour appointed
has not yet been anointed
time has a time of its own

Thinking that everything is fine
and then your told to check online
He’s looking for female company
and that company’s not me

If I tell him that I know
there’s no way back he has to go
I’ve hinted and skirted around the issue
but not ready yet, to lose me and you

I can’t compete against a computer screen
they can say what they like, not what they mean
Maybe it’s just fantasy
and he knows its not reality

My garden's blushing with colorful smiles
lively pink, yellow, red and fresher green
all mirror greatness that no one denies.

No more gray clouds to reign the blue skies
as spring only shows more delightful scenes
in gardens' blushing with colorful smiles.

No need to wish now for a warm sunrise
no more winter winds shall blow a serene
to mirror greatness that no one denies.

This is when love persists, it never dies,
but holds life in every corner and seen
in gardens' blushing with colorful smiles.

it is a place of grief and masochistic pleasure,
ghosts of Kafka,
haunted manuscripts
and burnt canvases

It bespeaks life,
death,
the caterpillar
and the snake
the moon
and her menses
things washed up by the tide
and things washed away

Nothing is created or lost in this universe.

You know, she said, the color orange is insincere
What an odd thing to say
I don't think you have made yourself quite clear
And I really wish you would go away

Red is loud, she continued, I don't like red
It celebrates itself in everyway
Red likes being red
What else can I say

And the beautiful blue of the peacock
is full of pride, you know
What a rude remark, I thought
But it is probably so

The colored leaves
Hide my eyes

The spider web
Retrieves my rhymes

Wrapped in silken
Bed she lies

Her pillowed head
Spun sunset die

forum of heat
of fire
of warmth

the shelter of rain tumbles
hissing away the voices
the landcapes in the dark
full of wind
the bending ideals
of a youth long distant
and in the dusk

you are a visage
in a book
a brush in the morning
and a look
a voice up the stairs

this emergence
forever leaving

like a longing balanced
on the precipice

heart hitched
and alive
alive
and not afraid.................

MOVING PICTURE SHOW

I’m about all played out
a lifetime of scenes and
short vignettes
celluloid and technicolor
pieces I want to forget
lying on the cutting floor.

Predetermined yet self- created
In a determined way
Identified by my limitations
betrayed by my strengths
existentially nauseated

Last scene is a cappella
Finish is open-ended

Fade out….

“Cut ! It’a a take.”

wow what a beauty

beauty can’t be bound in any cage,
it lies at each and every stage,
in the eyes of the beholder
that shouldn’t one at all amaze.

some men are more beautiful,
than women of their own age,
women though always remain
longer, much longer on the stage,

love flows from ones’ heart,
sex apart
the beauty is
of your divine gift
a lovely part.

The accelerator squeals
like an excited teenage fan
decelerating up the hill
all shrill and grating

Then the inward gasp
of childish awe
spread underneath
the tarmac ribbon crest
of Bradford's undulating sprawl

Through misty drizzle
little knots of yellow lights
sparkling beams of safety
in the dark swathes
scrunched up bundles
of grey woolpack hills

Northern Lights in vaulted skies
Northern electric lights
in pitiless winter washes