Category Archives: Spring 2014

Effects of a Late Night and an Early Morning

Do you ever have those days
where you just wished for everything to be the same?

To go back to the time before time changed
and back to those days that flew away in a daze?

Oh dear, I miss you.
I miss you more than words can describe,
more than the world can pronounce through
wailing gales and angry, falling mountain sides.

Writing to you is the absolute,
favourite part of my day.

And the sorrow when you don’t reply,
that is a feeling I wish I knew not how to say.

Good night, my love.
Have a brilliant day.
Sleep well my sir,
sleep so that the demons drift away

when I cling to this pillow tight,
only know that I wish it were you that could be
so wonderfully close.

But until then
until that day
until we can hold us both,
my mind will continue to
ramble out, meandering
unfinished thoughts of
us.

With you, my heart

With you, my heart
treat with kindness.
With you it lives,
my one and only.

And if ever you decide
to sever its bond –
set it down softly
into a box and send
it away, away back to its start.

And if ever you wish
to give it away, do
know that it will never,
once more, return to the same.

Send it back with
most pristine care, in mind.
‘Gently used, second-hand
well beyond compare.’

But I’d rather
you keep it,
fix it well with your life.
To help soften the lows,
blights, and all life’s constant strife.

No upgrades required,
self-evolving a plus –
this design was made
for you – each and every part.

But if it’s still
too much to carry along,
drop it off kindly,
‘once loved, once strong’,
to a place it now doesn’t belong.

An Imagined Scene

Your hand is on my thigh,
stroking the fabric to
stroke the skin down underneath;
strumming a song on a fretless board.

Higher and higher, where will
it go? Circling and navigating
to a source undefined.

Climbing the mountain to
the knee top
subtly evading the others’ eyes
with well-crafted choreographed
messages spelt out along
the contour of my thighs.

Clever lad, you,
well done for what you know.
What you’re committing to me, any
others need not ever know.

In my mind
because I don’t know where you are.

I part your lips,
kissing your ears
touching all parts of your atmosphere.
Only in my mind, though,
because I don’t know where you are.

If I may hold you as close as your name

If I may hold you as close
as your name, then in that moment –
perfection realised.

Before I leave, this is my wish,
to dance with you is my final request.
Nothing more, not more just yet,
but to slow-dance with you in an image
I cannot forget.

I don’t know how to dance,
I don’t know much these days,
but I do know that I wish to share this dance with you.

And if you may, if it isn’t too much,
with no objection in mind,
of this imagined touch,
reach out to me on the side –
turn imaginary into the physical divine.

By the placement of my arm

Hello my sir,
how have you been?
I was sat here thinking about you.
Thinking, just like every other day

of how my arm would
drape your knee, hanging
as a curtain, segmenting
your room

blocking out the storms,
the lightning strikers’ pacing,
the dangers of the out doors –
protected from all –
all this by the placement of my arm.

But pause.

The thinking has stopped.
It isn’t your knee.
It isn’t my arm.
The vision replace.
The imagery no more.

So this is life, ephemeral but void –
God’s own magnificence destroyed.