I approach sleep as a sailor, leaving rougher waters, enters the calm safety of the harbour.

To Love The Lost

A fragile creature with such strength,
your life once shattered healed again.

And walk you did, with me anon
and holding hands you laughed again.

So soft and gentle were your fingers,
holding lightly, holding fast.

The cool warmth of your skin on mine,
the calmness that your eyes beset.

I freely give all heart to you
and clasp your soul forever.

For you it is, that owned mine tongue
and forgiving...

vowed my spirit to your own.

Seasons End

Their jagged little tips sit, jutting centurions

Broken, shattered, golden pride still defiant

A ruddy loam ally supports their endeavor

Waging war with a frosty autumn sky

The harvest is over.

A poem for no reason, but the enjoyment of a new pen

Straight away, oh I say!
How smooth the silk that flows so freed,
from my newest nib.
I feel that I might write a line,
and free it from its lid.

New ponderings, new creativity,
I hope now bid to free,
and as I write and smoothly flow,
I wonder which shall lead.
Should thought lead pen,
or ink lead thought?
which flows with more panache?

And shall I even ponder such,
or spend my time amuse,
else shall I mearly let it run
resulting lines peruse.

What joy, what fun,
so easily is found,
I only free that substance,
already paper bound.

Golden Child

Ribbons of gold and russet brown
cascading gently, cross my brow.

They fall with sweep, with some panache,
then overlapping lay...

and as my mother's hands carress,
they softly glint in halflight's sleep,

and finally a resting place,
my texture softly gleams...

ribbons of gold and russet brown
descend upon my dreams.

The beast met

In early light's approach
a beast of beauty stood
towering o'er shattered stalks
a flickering mass of steamy black

his hair falls tossed high
upon a sheet of muscle dark
aloof his dark eyes gleam nobility

His sinewy neck twists
holding his head to the sun
His youth and strength defy
the moving grass beneath him
Son of the wind

Immovable but for the joy of summer
coursing his visible veins
this beautiful beast
whose guiltless lustre
frees the stallion
within me

Rose tinted spectacles

Oh sunset,
show me all your dulcet colours
and your half tone hues,
as you hide yourself,
neath a sheet of dwindling gold.

All day I avoid your stare,
but now as you recline
your visage is veiled
and I eagerly await your parting,
as my eyes creep ever nearer,
seeking colours source
as it ebbs,
and is..
no more.