Acutely tuned sense
At the mere mention of a name
Merciless winds
Of emotional change

Only serve to fan the flames
Of a fervent desire to be

All that I want
All that I need
All that I am

Can become muddled
By touching the hand
Of one so wild and wired

The determinant agent
Of imaginations fire
Blazing a luminous trail to the heart

As rogue emotions
Pulse and surge
Through my conscience mind

Passion is the tides
Surge, ebb and flow
The roar of an approaching storm
Fires of hell burning
Bright

A lion’s hunger
When on the prowl
To the ocean’s depth
It is felt

Lust never fulfilled

Love is a comfort zone
An unconditional giving
Where no boundary lines are drawn
A knowing without a whisper
A reading of the signs

Love always fulfilled

Passion without love
Is empty
Love lacking passion
Leaves a void

Why can they not co exist
In one

Gift
(dedicated to Shirley Harrison on her wedding)

diving into liquid velvet
surrounded by translucent light
a feeling of slowly falling
into the darkened sky of night

the million cares of the day
so worrisome in their plight
fall away with the setting sun
taking wing with angel's flight

I hear your voice so clear
in the cunning darkness falling
It comes to me in ecstasy
I hear your deep voice calling

Abrupt intake of idolatry
as softly, languid eyes imbibe
each facet.

You invade reality
stunning my logic,
hooking yourself into my resistance.

The essence of my existence
the crux of it all.
You are woven into every fibre

Impetuous, perilous, sensation
as I expose the delicate under belly,
Naked, open to you.

We are we; perfectly…

What is this fog that calms our love, silent mist,
you and I were above this we thought.
My mind runs back through days of want and angry words,
oh how wonderfully passionate we fought.

Your intense angry eyes inflamed my raging rhetoric,
mouthing fiery daggers to a heart so loved.
Mirrored was my suicide, a creation of self conceit,
thrown in with a hand perfectly gloved.

Bury me
beneath the apple tree
I grew from seed.

The digits, that reached you
Behind a strip of red
Hiding, just as you
Lifeless.
The end, unwritten,
In one last cold breath.

Perhaps, your greatest trick
Was convincing me
That you never existed at all?

I remember
Alone in an alien town, with you
Drenched in one another’s tones
Your eyes, filled with affection
Mine overflowing with longing
A breakfast we will never forget
An evening we can’t help but remember

This garden was so well begun
fresh ground broken fine and deep
beneath a free and warming sun
after winter's dark cold sleep

Laid out with a studied eye
each seed planted in it's perfect row
fertilized beneath an azure sky
a few storms, and it began to grow

Each sprout came up green and strong
unmarred by either storm or pest
thinking nothing could go wrong
we decided it was time to rest

Each musician plays their instrument
with fellow prodigies, one can bet;

when the "gig" does finally, get underway
he's not focusing on the music in each set.

What this minstrel quietly contemplates
isn't the forty-five minutes he's, played;

what really stands out in his "first mind"
is what's owed to him, after the music's been made.

You see, out of each, and every hour
fifteen minutes are his own,

In the frolic of
folly i amaze
into metaphorical mystery
i gaze.
Stark naked eyes
unknowing
the blank.
A mysery self-wrought
in the brooks
and
woods walked.
Then the last breath
shall surge
half in half out.
My soul if i have one
may submerge
In the glorification
of time
I thought
was once only mine..