Some hearts run with ice and fire
cold of hate, heat of desire
with souls formed of solid stone
hence from birth they are alone

What they think is love, pure lust
which in time turns into rust
leaving him to seek elsewhere
for another fool to care

Guard your heart so full and pure
before you open it be sure
ere the push proceeds to shoving
that he's capable of loving

.

 .

THINGS YOU SAY

Oh , I knew you wouldn’t go without a whisper,

And I knew you wouldn’t go without a scene-

A love that was burning out, not turning crisper:

 A love that might as well have never been…

.

Oh, you bore me to the seams

With your sorrows and your dreams,

And the tales of things you gave up just for me-

You tell me when I came,

That I was bound in mental chains,

Beautiful little blackbird
Greeting the first light of dawn
Fluting and chirping his repertoire
Richly waking a sweet summer morn.

Standing atop a gate post
Singing his song so mellow
Distracting and attracting a mate
With his bill and eye ring of yellow.

Plumping his feathery suit
Darting his beak in the soil
Stretching and pulling out juicy worms
That wriggle and curl in a coil.

If you were to ask me the place I like the most
it would be Porth Joke Beach on the Cornish coast.
Where walking down to the beach on the path so steep
red poppies and corn marigolds dance at your feet.
Then as you reach the gate at the bottom of the field
a wonderful view of the rocky coastline is revealed.

a thousand miles of silence

started with one step
over an edge --
never retraced

quiet, too exquisite
to leave behind
and return to cacophony's fray

still live in noise,
but silence is here --
a trusted friend who offers refuge

from helter-skelter of the street
outside the door --
never-ending it seems

cars going, people yelling, occasional gunshots
dogs barking, cat-fights at night
want to turn down the volume

a thousand miles of silence

started with one step
over an edge --
never retraced

quiet, too exquisite
to leave behind
and return to cacophony's fray

still live in noise,
but silence is here --
a trusted friend who offers refuge

from helter-skelter of the street
outside the door --
never-ending it seems

cars going, people yelling, occasional gunshots
dogs barking, cat-fights at night
want to turn down the volume

Little girl, trying to sleep in your bed
don’t listen to the sound of the bombs nearby
just close your eyes and try not to cry
and let your brother sing you a lullaby.

And don’t listen to the noise of the guns
as the bullets flash by your door, don’t cry
just think of the peace found in sleep
while your brother sings you a lullaby.

Little girl, as you sleep in your bed
when you dream, try not to dream of the day
when soldiers came with their guns
and took your father away.

light strips its full cloak
now shimmering with
stars like sparkle dust
this dying dusk
the pale veil
riding high against
the hip of tender night

last before the naked
stars burn glistening
like sweat on skin
sweetened by summer
heat
dream time transmission
hours
while the wind delves
with her whispers of power

unlike winters golden
set the slash of cold
the chillings burn

lay shivering
dazzled by your thoughts
the auburn aura
and flame blue eyes

I saw my wish star
As a small flash
It came to crash
Under the sky
She came to die,
And over the clouds
She dropped her pride
When the flaming face
Winked through the race
The wateriness stage
Was ready
For that fir with its rage
O,
Now I see her marriage
With her grave
End of the play
My wish has been swooped
In the depth of the sea

I go now to repair a bridge
it serves the road which runs the ridge.
Just a few boards need replacing
on the floor and in the bracing.

I'll do it while the branch is shallow
now when the far-side field is fallow.
My old truck will take me there,
I won't get stuck if I take care.

The land is rugged on this side
on the other, flat and wide
where crops grow in deep dark soil
thus making this bridge worth the toil.