You two

I tell all my good friends
that Ian and Jess
are the lights
the torches
the candles
the flames
and
just say any names
who have reached out
from earthly to heaven domains

to teach me poetic games
which one day,
some day
all poets will frame
in their minds
as do you two

and

I love the way you polish a poet,
innocent of poetic nuances
like you always do
You two

back arch beneath the starch linen shirt
resting on the laurel spine
the wool spun weave
of a slither loom that shunts
quick as a cats eye

the clan
the tartan
color
bright and scheming

spring air in the flags
and whistling in the
wires
while at the horizon
a blush of
morning
crawls
suffused
fuscia dreamer

turn down the radio
the darkness slips the latch
to these gates

and the ribbons of night
create their works
swiftly moving masque

touch to touch
as innocent as breath
and text

trembling nervous as
the stars
filling appetites of
heavens charmes

Destiny,
a street sign pointing left
when the road

is about to end.

Calculated moments...irreverence...

I felt it once...pretty certain that's what it was...

a future, life without anger, sadness and hatred
a calming sense of self
that everything would be okay

a little word followed by a simple word strung together into a sentence
a compliment

that

stung like a swarm...needles pricking, poking, sticking
drawing blood vile after vile

See not only the dark side of life
there is more brightness
than what one can visualize ...

just see the positive side...
and smile .....
darkness is just for a while

so the longer part of day
in broad day light do smile

just don't in the darkness of life while
friend smile
see me
Smile!

buried beneath
in quiet silt airs
stirs the current
slowly

and on crane legs
steady

as evening
thickens fast
in the pace
of my forest

night
stretches her
violet mood
throws
back her
mane of stars

fragrance
set like waves
upon the valley
the wind shift
dance
in the dirt dry grass

cry alive
the bitter burr
the clasp brass
golden sheen
of the watch machine

step on gusts of routes
and rows
spinning clouds
aloud
and new

of all things
auld
of what was took
and knew

these soft sup shines
touches kind
nudges
like knees
upon velvet cushion
pews

So it was Ulric, the Heathen King who rode on a black warhorse.
The ten thousand men he led, all giants from the north..

Savages who lived for the kill, raid and plunder.
Such was their cruelty , that they spread a reign of fear.

Undefeated in many battles, they became so arrogant
that they thought they were invincible after many seasons,

Yet the worst was their king who claimed to be God,
demanding to be worshipped when he was a mortal lord..