When the wind from the north
off Lake Erie
wraps around your breath
and a hard rain has ushered in
three days of sinus headaches,

awake dawn
fuscia chill
stars cling like ice
to melt the bitter blue
so deep and cold

tangy dreams drip
from bird bone limbs
satin souls
wavering
the sleep breath
resltless roam
the lovers kiss

salted like the fin
Mermaids caress
wave worn stone
our amulets
of tears like frozen
teeth about our
throats

and the howl of waves
in black cavern ribbon
at our station

Poetry Is a God Gifted Art
I commenced composing poems,
As early as eight years
When my first poem

The Truant,

Composed in a class,
Was taken away by my Principal

It was about an incident,
When schools kids went an amok

I don't remember what I wrote
But ever since I have composed
Poetry of my own
And
As you must have noticed
No two poems of mine are alike,
They neither rhyme nor chime
But so many friends,
I can now claim as mine.

The touch that I once longed for
Now repulses

Lips once warm and sweet
Have turned calloused and cold

Little innuendos
now chafe and bite

Give them to another
For I no longer can
bear the thought of you

While speaking with someone, presently
I was informed of having to forfeit some of my days.
There were incidents of daydreaming,
with a seemingly fond proclivity
for ignoring certain moments.

So, those days were a "wash", as it were.
With missing items that vanished,
like socks through a vortex in the drying stage.

So, I learned the meaning of forever
and, the birth of my one, and only regret.
Taking so many moments of magical properties,
and then, taking them for granted.

Fall, bring me your cold winds
And your dying leaves
Your pitch black nights
And swirls of colors at sunrise
Fall, bring me your love
It will wither and flake away
Like the last leaf that breaks

Love, bring me your head aches
Your torture and your demise
Your smiles and your laugh
And your security
Love, bring me your dreams
So I can fall asleep tonight
Like the child I used to be

Times dungeons have never healed
The relationship between
known and unknown

Some bask in the glory of the sun
Some of their own
We all are but passersby
To all unknown
Yet time shears our lives
To the very bones,
We pass out all unknown,
Who the master
Who the slave
Who the follower
Who the knave

Except the naïve,
They are the worst victims of all.

I've looked for the part that's missing
and damned if I can see
where it might have gotten off to
Where it might be wandering free

It's like, that it just needed space
Some time to be alone
A little time for reflection
The waters marred by stones

I cannot find the peace
that once I took for granted
My outlook seems to shift
from level, to something canted

I've been searching all around,
no signs do I find
of the part that has gone missing
Has it been left behind?

1.

without seat belts to hold you
on the roller-coaster ride
memories
neither here nor there
flare divisions like acrobats
diving into space

with more elegance than thought possible
September's swan lifts her long neck
and wings away

where is Heisenberg's principle when
you need it the most?

2.

there's a lotus growing in my cosmic soup,
my feet mud roots tying rocks to clouds
the equation of dark matter
my singular paradox.

3.

Softly, languid eyes worship you.
Each breath taken is in synchronicity,
two halves of the same reality

We traverse this hostile world,
rapped in the safety of our devotion.
The out side cannot get in.

The essence of my existence
the crux of it all.
Your are woven into every fibre.