"MY LEG ON HIS THIGH"
Margaret Ann Waddicor 1 am.
10th December 2010.

The heavens are filled
With despair
For one star has made
Them aware
That none in the sky
Can shine so bright
As the light you provide

The stars up above
Are so jealous
Because you walk about
Like in heaven
With beautiful dove like feathers
Stealing all the glory
From all constellations

For the patterns you form
You ink down on parchment
Creating more beauty
Then all the specks
In the fabric of heaven
Your brightness persist
Despite their harassments

BLOCK AND TACKLE (PEN IN HAND)

And though the world is coming ‘round,
This old heart says I’ve sinned…
Sit here breaking no new ground,
I’m only breaking wind,
But, in the grand tradition,
I burn the midnight lamp,
And sit here, poised with pen in hand:
An imperious knight,
With a serious Writer’s Cramp…

`

The night has fallen around us
The wind it savagely blows;
A wicked mood is cast upon me,
One from which I cannot go.

Against the night, orbs on lamp posts loom,
Flickering forth a sickly yellow light;
A storm from deep within advances,
Still no hope for me to go.

Heavy leaded clouds drape the sky,
The paving just as dark below;
Such sight it fails to move me:
I cannot, will not go.

`

Decisions, decisions
We make them
We regret them
We learn from them

Riding the waves
Learning the way
We search for answers
Among the carnage

Total confusions
Everything the same
Nothing the same
Life is not what we thought

Growing up, no longer a boy
Not yet a man, still a teen
Life is crazy, no longer about me
Learning to listen

Standing at the crossroad
Of maturity and adulthood
No longer blocking, but
Listening making informed decisions

Teasing an intimate breeze
picaresque rages, a sudden
shrill where night lay sleeping.

An insidious spell is creeping,
seeping through the bedroom
walls her scent wafts, it seeks.

Unheard he calls the bull he
bawls! enters her lair without
due care.

Fair maiden sallow skin
incubus stoops tasting
her sweet nectar.

Subjecting her loins
to his nature
he parts his way.

I can't waken from this nightmare
where I'm old and fat with scarce white hair
and ambulate with painful stride
( at least I still have my child bride )

Even with the skills I know
work has become scarce and slow
knees hurt when I climb a ladder
and I now posses a tiny bladder

Banks are asking Me for money
'cause they are broke, now ain't that funny
to get to space we'll soon need hitch
tell me now ain't that a bitch!

fragile bodies succumb to the toll
of a substance that robbed their soul
stole all the heart's hope
the minds ability to cope
slowly eating away the mind
leaving an empty shell behind
this substance has no name
excuses are always the same
Momma you know I'm clean
push it and they get mean
they make a call and then leave
all the mother can do is greave
she knows it's only a matter of time
hope it is cops and not some crime
that takes her child
that was once sweet and not wild

THE LAST DAY OF APRIL, APRIL…

…And it was on the last day,
It was on the last day of April when you said you’d have to leave-
When I could find no way-
No reason to make you stay, least of all me,
That, on a grassy patch,
'Neath a starry April sky,
In unfamiliar territory, I
Did attempt a desperate, hopelessly botched explanation…

Small birds gather outside my window
huddled beneath sparse cover
of a leafless fire bush.
Feathers puffed out
shielding against the northern wind
and errantly dancing snow.
The winter sparrows camaraderie
warms my heart
sheltered as I am
behind concrete and glass
separating their world from mine.

Loreli