I observed death
awed by its beauty
on angel’s wings
silhouetted
against a weeping sky
in circles
I could not number
he waited
and watched
until he let cry…..oblivion.
half rhyme
Trains
they made love to the sound of trains
and raindrops of imagination
came together to become one
upon the restless window panes
which travelled silently in tune
to the passions in their room
and breathed as one as did their sighs
lost to trains of thoughts gone by.
Forgotten Seasons
the years slipped by
inside forgotten seasons
numbed and lost by time’s
relentless beatings
when I was a boy
I prayed to angels for the sun
but they and it never shined
well, not for very long
and now the summer’s gone
the angels hear no more
they’re frozen by the coming snows
which only wait before me.
Vulcan
Hephaestus strikes the anvil
and the world shatters apart
his furnace red and fired
as any lover’s heart.
His passion spreads across the land
and ashen his desire
when the smoke has lifted
such destruction has he sired
y tân
on a mountain top
they built a fire
a beacon of desires
and each sunset
by the light
of its flames
they made love
until only its ashes
glowed in the night
Song
yesterday the clouds held dominion
but not over the sky
never this sky
but in the corners
the darkest corners
of my insecurities
today shone the brightest sun
born of you
and only you
in beams of gold
gilded bold
upon my reveries
Definition
are we defined
by tricks of mind
faint stars of ancient memory
or perhaps instead
deep in our heads
the truth lies more in dreams
those things
that we all yearn to be?
Gegenaufklärung
The monsters left their corners
crawled out from under beds
their beastly fangs
now crystal smiles
bore inside our heads
and took from us our reason
replaced the void with bile
bland flavoured
mediocrities
masquerading style.
Lines to be revisited when less distracted
Oh heaven help us! Be you there?
beyond the con trail criss cross
above the silvered clouds somewhere?
Do you receive the earnest prayers
of each believer’s dearest wish
are the gods of man, of man aware?
Untitled bit of a rhyme that wouldn’t continue
the mist that drapes
the fields this morn
lace swaddling
on the newly born
