written on a lost summer’s day

through avenues of lindens green
verdant sunlit temple scenes
scattered shadows, dappled light
twixt bright midday and black midnite
we two travellers northward bound
alone up country where we found
the way we sought away from death
and melodies that in faint breaths
we sang together chasing notes
that flew above in feathered throats
ballads pure which knew no woe
and signalled on where we should go
that our quest for summer’s rest
a million dawns, ever west.

Untitled Notes on Writer’s Block

there is silence save birdsong
and darkness save this shaded light
there’s a blank white page before me
that waits on me to write,

there are no thoughts within me
save those I have of you
how can I them in conscience fair
with meagre words imbue.

so I hear beyond the silence
and drift into the dark
to set my pen in readiness
before I make my mark.

A Luv Pome

I want to be that certain quirk
you aren’t afraid of showing
that naughty little secret
you don’t mind people knowing
the eye rolling embarrassment
which makes you blush bright red
the silly rather risque joke
you can’t believe you said.

I want to be the crumple
upon your fresh made bed
that pesky little niggle
turning in your head
the eye of newt, and ear of bat
within your witch’s spell
above all the guilty pleasure
that you’ll never ever tell.