The birds that chirp before flying

The sun and the moon
And the stars and the sky
The laughter that bursts
In the birds that chirp before flying

The water that brings
A saviour to life
After looking down
At the flowers now blooming

The essence, the ingress
Seeps through the room’s open window
The day sees the sun
Shining brightly above

Touch your palm with my hand
Soft and supple – divine
Bringing a peaceful transition
To the wings of the dove

Look right in your eyes
And your eyes right in mine
And if one feels
The sun’s less than strong
We will wait with a patience
For summer to build

And when it doth come
And is felt overhead
It becomes like a pedestal
Finally led
To a quintessential
Parenthetical being

You are my sun and my moon
You, my dear, are my sky
Come, touch my heart
I know it is beating –

For you –
My sweet, my love –
Howsomever so fleeting.

Travails with a conscience

It came from far away

And nestled nearer home

All the while beside me

From birth to when I’d grown

 

My travails with a conscience lay

Still active – I had known

It came from far away –

Perched by my very own

 

And every time I saw her

She looked peaceful –

Like the sand

Reaching out from yonder

Saying; Come, now –

Hold my hand

 

Whenever I would touch her

She’d shiver – as if scared

I’d think, again, and wonder

Whether storm-clouds over there

 

Would rain on the parade

That had gathered, with the band

Yet my travails, with a conscience

Would reach out, and hold my hand

From inside now

Comparing who

And what I’ve been

To the pair we will

Become – as part

 

Of a new belief

With new beginnings

That tells me

Sunshine’s here to stay –

The darkest cloud

(a world away)

 

The scent I smell –

The freshest bloom

Seasons sprout –

And lover s’ groomed

 

Harvest from

The greenest field

Success is yearned

And feelings yield

 

A new horizon

Nearer home

The reason why

I build, I grow

 

Into a violet –

Scented sweet

Without my dear

Less than complete

 

Oh, my God –

Pray, tell me how –

You sense the world

From inside now

Loss

Loss

Oh, God,

What does it mean?

Am I alone

Yet near, beside

The one I thought

I’d have forever –

Experiences

Shared together

Now you’ve left

For better scenes

Still nothing, no-one

Comes between

The rose and orchard

We grew when

The garden bloomed –

The scent would spend

It’s time in what

Became a daze

Was it true love –

Or just a phase

Of a life spent

Lived to the full

Which force would win –

To push, or pull?

What dreams may come

And share my grief?

The one thing left

Was true belief

That one day

We will share a sky

Where we look in

Each other’s eyes

And say; I love you

Ever more

Your life is mine –

My life is yours

I could keep going

Here some more

Or calmer weather

Before the storm

Knowing that

I know not what

Is meant for me –

Or any other

That disowns

A true romance –

Who cannot walk the walk

Or dance the dance

That leads to

Disorganised array –

Found elsewhere –

A world away

Where the one true thing

Is belief

That one day

We will share a place

Looking in

Each other’s eyes

And say; I love you

Many times

Memories –

They’re always stored

Your life in mine –

My life in yours.

Succeed!

What does it mean to achieve

to think and feel

to love and grieve?

what does it say when we believe

to have faith

and strive to see?

but when one’s blind

is all lost?

or are other senses

used to find

what otherwise

will ne’er be gained

unless with patience

we refrain

from sudden action –

thinking fast

with such a thought

we’re ne’er to last

the distance needed

to succeed

and come again

as if to feed

our conscience –

that which thinks so slow

without which we share

no afterglow

yet if it’s there

we feed the air

and birds will fly

and eyes will stare

upon the scene

we cherish, first

like when we struggle

for a thirst

that hydrates

our sense, our need

as if we hunger

for a creed

that fills us

with the need to glean

the bluest sky

we’ve yet to see

and as our senses

feed our mind

what else is left

for us to find?

what else is there

for us to need

except to strive (and yearn)

to succeed?

Camellia

He walked amongst the many
and came across the one –
the one who made him feel
like he was walking on a cloud.

Wearing Leopard-spotted ‘happy shoes’
she was a slim little thing, five foot six at most,
wearing black, skin-tight yoga pants
that hugged her legs,
and a silky beige shirt hanging out over her hips
that showed her bare back when she bent down
to check for a book
on the shelf below her.

Her hair was black, long,
drooping over the nape of her neck
and resting half-way down
her slender back.

She rested her hands on her legs
lifted herself up from the crouching position
she’d maintained for a moment,
and as she stood up
she threw her hair over her left shoulder
and turned to face him.

When she walked her shirt slipped open at the front
to reveal her belly.
her soft, supple skin was like a baby’s bottom.
her face silky smooth, surely gentle to the touch,

She wore no make-up,
for there was no need to improve on perfection.
she had a gold stud in her lip,
but even that small admonishment
to her beauty only seemed to add to it

He felt his body changing
in ways over which he had no control.
he felt short of breath.
he was entering a place, a feeling, he was uncomfortable with.

Yet the feeling made him aware he was alive,
physically – mentally,
and able to appreciate the finer things.
he knew not whether to feel awakened and welcomed
to a brave new world
or whether he should feel aggrieved
by having been shut out of that very same world.

Had this girl awakened a sleeping spirit
or had she provided a teaser to something,
like a rainbow, that was just beyond his reach?

One girl – once. He had found his ‘camellia,’
blooming sweetly in the Spring.

wings of the dove…

The Commonwealth Games are almost upon us and my home town of the Gold Coast is having the Queen’s son, Prince Charles come visit for a while. He’ll be sure to want to visit rainforests and such but cyclones not far north may impede his trip somewhat. Only time, precious time, will tell.

In the meantime, Cobblestones and thatched roofs is a poem I dreamed up recently he might like. I include it here for your reading pleasure:-

More from Cosmofunnel:-

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/cobblestone-and-thatched-roofs-141182

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/my-kind-134662

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/the-wings-of-the-dove-142236

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/your-smell-131435

All the best to you all…

 

 

the funnel in the cosmo

Well, I’ve come out from under the shade of the tree. Now for Christmas, and my shopping basket is empty. Where to find those presents of value with a tad of gimmickry attached that friends and family will enjoy? Perhaps a book of poetry would do the trick, like Prism – an anthology – hmmm, now there’s a thought.

For the time being, go to cosmofunnel.com to find an assortment of poetry from an assortment of poets, including yours truly.

Click on the links shown below. I hope you enjoy!

Poem#1: the-sentinel-and-troubadour-

Poem#2: completely-

Poem#3: you-too- 

Poem#4: you-are-

Cosmofunnel V – thoughts

What is it they say? It never rains in Southern California?

Well, I’m here to tell you the same’s true of the Gold Coast, on the south-east coast of Queensland. They say it’s beautiful one day, perfect the next. I think it’s just bone-dry

Except that the farmers end up in drought as 80% of the state I live in is drought-affected. And over there in the US of A you’ve got Hurricane Harvey.

My thoughts go out to those of you that have been affected by the floods, especially those of you in Houston.

I wish you all the best.

Here’s a little poetry for your reading pleasure. Take care…

  • Thoughts LVII

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/thoughts-lvii-124157

  • Hung out to dry

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/hung-out-to-dry-119346

  • Umbrella moon

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/the-umbrella-moon-118603

  • Of character a face can tell

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/of-character-a-face-can-tell-116616

Cosmofunnel IV – an ode to love

Well, my life as a Copy-writer has recently begun and has provided me with a positive attitude. Not that I didn’t have a positive attitude already, just that this copy-writing caper has energised my free-thinking and directed me to thoughts of love.

Ahhh, love. Now there’s a topic we all, well…love.

So here’s an ode to love, coupled with a few other poems of mine written long before my latest venture.

I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Bye for now…

  • An Ode to Love

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/an-ode-to-love-123639

  • Dance

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/dance-118249

  • Minstrel

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/minstrel-116710

  • Epiphany – a short story

https://cosmofunnel.com/stories/epiphany-115586