Ne’er to go

The wind shakes –

the ground breaks –

your eyes wake and blink

 

a joyful string

your baggage light

delight in spring and build

 

create God’s guild

love, laugh then chide –

before I lose my alibi

 

I reached the wall –

a no-through road –

yet in your arms I fell

 

and all is well

 

for in you I’ve stayed –

devoted to your hand and heart

 

with you I ride – no more to stray

ne’er to go –

ne’er to go –

ne’er to go away.

what makes one a fairy

what makes one a fairy

give her a hedge to hide behind

bring lightning and the strongest fragrance

and she will have taller feet –

longer arms and bigger hands

and delve into the Never-never-land

 

a playmate remains a little girl

travelling to the evening star

by horse and carriage ride –

abandoning reality

for the thrills of dreaming

 

frolic one must – fancy-free

for the passing of time

and the fairy’s wish

will be a wish for all

who bid goodbye

 

smother happiness upon another

play like there is no tomorrow

and delight in the bewitching hour –

build a cherished home

filled with fairy dust and jasmine flowers

 

to away austerity and lure love

and lead from way behind the hedge

and share the fairy’s fragrance

in mere mortals’ smiles –

 

seen in(stead) –

mere mortals in her stead.

out of many

Because one said so

is it true

who else says it’s so –

do you

 

because one warrants

you agreed

who else will agree

with thee

 

because one stands tall

do you stand too

does anyone else stand tall

with you

 

out of many, one –

(e pluribus unum) –

thirteen letters

scattered some

 

emblazoned seal

in eagle’s beak

diversified –

it’s you one seeks

to be one day

 

though many tried –

 

it’s you the one

most deified.

the storm

What can I see

when I say I can do

and the bird in the tree

reminds me of you

 

and the little lake ponders

and paddles and pants

and the stars in the sky

over yonder way land

 

speak to the children

who chide in the snow

and the sleet turns to feet

on the ski-slopes on show

 

 

and the fire has embers

that keep lovers warm

cuddled and huddled

under blankets in storms

 

and when thunder breaks

and pets hide out of view

the thunder’s anger

reminds me of you

 

when I said; I don’t love you –

can’t take anymore

and you told me; get out

and you showed me the door

 

 

as I dangled my feet

in the water below

and thought of the time

on the ski-slopes

in the snow

 

it was you on my mind

my ‘one’ grown from ‘two’

the bird in the tree

under sky, clearest blue

But a second

Absence of a tryst to love

Does not abandon thee

From amorous encounters

In a world of make-believe

 

Absence of a single thought

Wants not a lesser being

Yet, in time one cannot become

What one cannot see

 

For sight to some means knowledge

Powered by the mind

If one be blind, does it decry

To be of lesser kind?

 

Yet absence of a sense to some

Means stronger touch and taste

A life lived but a second

Is the kind one ought not waste.

The Hand

I stood beside the hand I held

And saw it tell a story

It spoke of years when time was young

And the years in sun and glory

It stroked my hair, and with a twist

Touched my elbow then my shoulder

Romance became companionship

As the two of us grew older

Sometimes I thought I’d lose that hand

It left through open door

As it walked away, I turned and thought

I’ll hold that hand no more

Time passed by that open door

In a haze I saw the hand

Walk under the porte corchere

To the courtyard where I stand

I felt a crisp and ardent feeling

Indescribable to me

With fingers interlaced –

We strolled the beach-front,

To the sea.

 

first published on cosmofunnel.com

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.

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…