ere be the empty limbed coiffure
the svelte verbage
spilled and crackling in the storm

the lingering vibratto
whirled with tempestual doubt
the dark winged sorrow
tinged with rain
burdned and striving
to lift before
the hearts deluge

The Action of Attraction….

Their bodies negotiate each move
so fluid it seems like dance,
clinging to each other every speeding
second a stolen chance.

He’s in love with someone else, she
has a partner just as new, that fate dealt
them cards like these was unfair but so
very true.

Though they had just met each other
their bodies moved precise, touching
with a hunger seeking satisfaction,
it gripped them like a vice.

I’m gonna write a poem “Original”
(stop laughing fool, I know it can be done).
My English waits for me to rip and maul.
I’ll grab my books and start this artful run.

The things are large- there must be something here
and then, of course, there is poetic muse
(I hear you and I see you mocking sneer).
In my thesaurus there is much to use.

The damn thing weighs nigh over seven pound.
The rhymer’s small, but it’s computer bred.
That means all rhymes ere made here can be found.
I seldom ever need to use my head.

Time has age me since paper was put to pen
Walking through life in more rain filled question
Why does it sing out with the poetry that I cannot omit
Time has age me since paper was put to pen

beautiful poetry on love
but whilst you are on mother earth
find a real LOVE...

all the best poet dear
many will like you to endear
and love them as youth warrants you
and then alone heavens will welcome you

for the service you rendered on mother earth
where you had been sent
to Y chromosomes present
and lend the selfish gene
a loving hand
wherein man can continue
as long as one can

lend him yours too
as then only a whole being
they all will consider you

Little Miss Muffet,
sat on her tuffet,
quite comfy, so they say,
She looked at the spider,
that sat down beside her,
and swatted the blighter away.

He whizzed past her face
at such a quick pace,
much to her great surprise.
His mouth was agape,
contorting its shape,
while blinking his multiple eyes.

The wind blew her hair,
so pretty and fair,
that he became obsessed .
He grimaced a smile,
that looked somewhat vile
and his legs curled under his chest.

Whenever l am quiet
l gain ways to comprehend,
l listen more intently
and hear the message others send.

Mental clutter seems to dissipate
my very instincts are more clear.
l understand my friends, and family
so my heart holds them more dear.

l focus so much better
when distractions fade away,
my expectations follow suit
so emotions can't betray.

At my best l am a listener
an observer l become,
providing me keen insights
that alludes not all, but some.

Dark dark night
Staring at those
Dark dark eyes
A silhouette of not an angel that hides

Floating,
in the air...
hush...now hush...
watch it disappear !

Don't wake me up
I'll catch fear
These eyes only wanna see you
in my head

When I turn the lights on,
You disappear....

Why do you disappear?

Some eat the biscuits, wear the finest silk
and travel 'way towards the furthest star.
They'd sleep on roses, wash with whitening milk.
They hardly bother; living lone and far.

Some feed on fodder, wear but heavy chains
and travel there, where mirth could never land.
They'd sleep on thorns to loose eternal pains
where utmost misery gives the hell a hand.

Fight the Power of the Pound

Where are those kind heroes
whose stories never die,
who gave up wealth or freedom
to fight for you and I.
I’m talking about Mandella,
Luther King, or Nigel Benn,
will I live long enough to ever
see their likes again?

Though my heart is strong and I
may strike for a few years yet, the
feelings I get from today’s people
put social fighters under threat.