there is not a single voice
that I print upon the page
my heart writes to its own beliefs
of all the wars it waged
and it sings a thousand songs
to set right a hundred wrongs
all to a simple tune,
the one I never ever played.
let us share quixotic daydreams
from the corners of our youth
weave the webs of childhood wishes
into blankets made of truths
whether born in cornfields golden
or from concrete grey and bare
now that we have found each other
they’re exactly where we are.
What had we wished this day to be?
it’s dimming eyes dare ask of me
now that it succumbs to twilight’s grace
never more to raise its face
excepting when in fondness thought
and memory sounds its fair report
of lost and golden yesterdays
gilded by tomorrow’s praise.
use me as a metaphor
for all that you desire
mix me up with similes
compare me as required
like a sculptor carving marble
into naked allegory
use me as a symbol
within your poetry
In my dream
I met the queen
sat upon her horse
I would have curtsyed
deep and long
but I was in bed
of course
and as I lay there
snug and warm
and feeling rather prone
she came
and sort of nighted me
upon a golden throne
her crown was made
of flowers rare
and how her sceptre glowed
as she said
arise now Sir
and off on her horse
she rode.
there’s a spider on my shoulder
and she couldn’t be more bolder
if she jumped and sang a song
upon my knee
but it was me who jumped around
making little squeaky sounds
I really hope the neighbours
didn’t see.
Into the velvet dandygaps
the moistened ragpoles fell
their hair all polished up like wine
and stretched with piffle gel
inside they all got bigger
stoked up on moss and gleem
and battling for their cobble juice
the dandygaps were keen.
they left to fight for sausages
and blessed aunty Pats
rode out to war in tottle shirts
upon fierce floundercats
the battles raged for long and short
for seven days and twelve
and on the day of armistice
they surrendered to themselves
let me wander through your head
into each room within your mind
invite me when you go to bed
to see what dreams you’ll have me find
and if perchance the dawn should break
while I’m still behind your eyes
don’t be afraid to drift awake
and imprison me deep inside
trace these words
with your fingers
take them in you
let them linger
wherever you feel
that they must be
therein you’ll have
the best of me.
she held the edge
of her umbrella
lest the gales
October’s weather
took a hold
full unrestrained
to soak her dreams
in muddied rain
