The stream (all workshops)
Soft grey winter twilight
Creeps slow down from the hill.
Carters, backs bowed, lead horses
Another day's toil fullfilled.
Plough traces sing in frosty air,
Hooves splash and plod through mud
Down lanes spread thick with icy slush
Past thatched roofs dark as blood.
A day free on the moro,
The day of our saviours birth,
A day free from hard toil
But for farmhands little mirth.
Spring's blanket of dew
upon the rolling green...
sparkling like diamonds
as the morning sun's rays
come seeking over the horizon.
Summer's curtain of mist
A fine haze outside my window...
A hint of movement in my garden
just beyond the terrace
a short squat gnome perhaps?
Autumn's turning of landscapes,
whisperings of lover's secrets.
A time for sighs and sweet kisses
long slow walks, by the lake holding hands,
passion's kindling becomes a bonfire.
What would you have done, if when we first met,
I’d said we would someday sleep with 3 small dogs,
as we do now? Would you have said thank you,
nice to meet you, have a nice life and ended our date?
Silly question, I suppose, knowing you now as I do.
I prefer to think you would have more likely said,
Just three? Let’s get a fourth as soon as possible!
“Did your sister’s dog, Sophie, ever sleep with you?”, I asked.
Procrastinate, I leave it late —
as possible, and contemplate.
While still undone, I ruminate —
to taunt my mind and fabricate.
If truth be told, I deliberate,
and cannot help, but complicate,
I overthink, and obfuscate.
Integrity, I shall negate.
Don’t stop me if I exaggerate.
If you were I, we’d delegate,
And give to her, considerate.
Still, I must, delay, or hesitate.
I wish a good sleep
But wish I cannot
For I'll tend to weep
When glancing at my clock
I see "3am"
But what should I do
When I'm not like them
Each night, I can't sleep through
The shadows grow large
My body grows weak
It's time to recharge
Hallucinations peak
'Cause at 3am
Zero souls insight
Craving sleep again
I'll never feel quite right
Throughout the night and everyday
nothing but a castaway.
Given to the dimming of lights,
no emotion left inside.
Only darkness which I hide.
Exiled to cages in my mind.
Do you see this painful ride?
The peace that will not seem to vibe.
The joy that just won’t come to life
In the end my circumstances,
won’t allow for second chances.
But I'll be here by your side
through thick and thin,
both day and night!
The face in the mirror is a cruel temptress.
A faint spark burned out with sadness.
Replaced with lifeless, hopeless madness.
Given away by black shadows under my eye.
Emotions wrap around me,
like a python squeezing its prey.
Suffocating, nauseating, devastating,
why can't they just let me be?
Who wants someone with three kids and a slew of pets.
Love is fleeting, hard to find appealing
when you have nothing to offer,
except being good in the sack.
Panoply of mystical elements of holly day style
breathe prez sense frostily exhaled aired
per millennia athwart
(this terrestrial spaceship planet Earth)
two plus seventeen carousel rides resonated
veritable pantheon of pagan rituals
and quirky superstitions lit
(akin to a lit Christmas tree)
She existed as a dark photograph.
In the point of view of the room.
On the corner.
My little lady death.
On my black photograph.
Xmas
The birth of Christ
Life’s everlasting gift
Offered freely and with great love
Christmas
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