we are transient
betwixt our natural forms
ashes to ashes
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Clipped Wings
these pink flamingos
with half clipped wings
envy even wrens
and spitting swallows
from their hollows
taunt them once again
but in their dreams
they soar it seems
into rose coloured skies
a thousand petals
all supposing
they can up and fly
5-7-5 (take four-hundred-and-one : soliloquy)
this sleep gifts no dream
but that of endless slumber
the dawn never comes
Poem
read these words I write
not anytime today
save them for another morn
when I am gone away
and when my pen is silent
its ink all long since dry
look fond upon
it once in a while
when my words have died
The Leaves of Memory
these colours fly
like snowflakes in the summer
breezed impossibilities
out of of time
memories that are waiting
to be born again
the question
is this your dream,
or is it mine?
Eleventh
I dare not sing
my songs today
or write of platitudes
so often said
for one like me
to engage poetry
does nought but a diservice
to the dead.
Harvest
the deed is done
said the farmer’s son
for the shilling I have spent
he took his hat
and slung the gun
from the ploughshare he had wrent.
Short Rhyme
angel of the violet dark
sing to me of lovers lost
and bring to me the promise
of such to come
elevate me with your kiss
and take me places I have missed
until my earthly form
is said and done.
lines from the warm dream (poem idea)
they made love in the forest
and to the moss was birthed
a sacred child of humankind
blessed by mother earth
Cebidaen Dreams
i was happy as a monkey
sitting in a tree
curly hair upon my back
cosy as could be
chattering among the leaves
without a bloody care
we all made better monkeys
why didn’t we stay there?
