It was within his power
He’d trained for all of this
He had the means to stop it
but watched them die of evil’s kiss

There were no pleas of mercy
“Kill me, I won’t resist”
Shoot me with your gun
beat me with your fist”

The question nagged at him
Were they really wrong?
How could they be so sure
could he ever be that strong?

To stand and witness for a truth
he wasn’t sure he knew
After all, what they said;
just another’s point of view

I saw this angelic little boy
eyes so blue, big head of blond curls,
which he'll probable bemoan in years to come,
gorgeous smile

Look now, my love, look now,
As candlelight warms the mirror,
The beauty’s in the eyes, dark gulfs to draw unwary lust
To lips delicious with anticipation of another perfect kiss,
Fingers bright on your smooth darkness
Ringlets of your earthen hair
Tickling my nose
And heart

Watch now my love, watch now,
I’ll lift your heavy breasts
With cupping hands to show the curves
Of soft delight time cannot paint
With any familiarity, for wonder
At their warmth and fullness
Catch my breath each time I look

I have seen tougher wives
but
thank god
I ain't not your hubby

and

perhaps
he too deserves some empathy
I love to send him my sympathy

all here are
wonderful poets
independent
self taught mostly

you seem to be at the wrong end
of this elite
this site adds beauty
to all poetry ,
free verse may it be truly
so express yourself
freely friendly and vociferously

HAPPY DIVALI
to all Indians across the globe.

come to you
pouring like lashed thoughts
hot cedar sweats in steam rooms
tears of a dove falling
like the cloistered frost tanks steam
climbing

a hiss in sleep
gathered like a white wound
the bow of wings
in a shroud
while snowflakes nestle

the dark brows like shadows
neath a trestle
usher rush starts
like water
turning in its thoughts

purity
in the cold
secure as the band
of gold

Here and There

Byron Bay

The use of excellence,
being all in all.
The magic word pitched just so.
The felt voice knowing where and when.
Such confidence!
Things speeding past,
ragtime to future perfect.

Love and loathing in a fraught paradox.
More hoops to jump through.
A list of words wrapped like a tourniquet,
a holding pattern
of deals and ideals.

Randwick

The Pacific hangs like a headline
above
the distant jostle of apartments.

When its all around you, when it surrounds you.

Mouth hid, but it calls you
You wish to explore know her more ,but you ignore.
Her Faint voice calls you.
Don’t look, your fear has made you insecure .
You have got to understand,
You’re not wanted , you’re needed
But for you to take heed of the need,
You have to first bleed.
You choose to resist.

My mother, a giant of a woman could tower over me
But with age, change swept all over her. I saw her depreciating-
The bums that used to bulge like a football ball, emaciated inch by inch,
The breasts, once bulky lost shape, fizzled off like melting ice under scorching sun;
Big thighs reduced to bones, except sinewy ligaments I see, as she picks up buckets
The brown, lively face turned into wrinkles month after month; hair turned grey, hair by hair.
I dare not ask if my mother was ever a virgin girl; I could ask her, but difficulty to execute.

Reading signs is not a sanguine skill
I'm often
caught
looking for amusement
and a roundabout thrill
The white beam
results in
my
denouement

Harsh turns
strict
not to be crossed
white on blue on metal
fragments
hinder my
fulsome free-spirt

"turn right advance to nowhere"
"turn left retreat from somewhere"

What is this blood that fills my eyes?
Till blind I cannot see
a crown of thorns upon my head
That’s pressing down on me
Iron nails through shattered bones
Pinned to a cross of wood
My heart feels oh so heavy
As only a Christian’s could

A kiss on the cheek betrayal
I knew it came and then
My poor disciple as dawn rose
Denied me again and again
The trial the people Pilate
How sad as he washed his hands
And a sinner they called Barabbas
Began to make other plans