here I come
in rowanberries hair with coffee in the eyes

we play hide and seek

we are children
and more adults than ever

someone asks me
to dress my love for you in words

I am not sure though I do it
every day

and every day I choose you

it would hurt me
to try to resist

before you I am humble,
my eyes in love

with you I am better than ever

you are my inspiration and
I am your autumn girl

Xeno: I was never phobic
Foreigner, Stranger, Guest.
Of your long, inquisitive forays
into yet, another conquest

I was laid open
My heart that hearth of rest
Although my reason hunted you down
I was there, at your bequest.

I will plead for you in the jester's court
although there's nothing I can do.
Abrogate seared scraps of love
or cherish every last inch of you

until DNA traces you
to scarred city, dead next of kin
this door is open -
stay out if you mistrust these words

I'll take Rhiannon's lead and do a limerick

The poet was truly appalling
his peers broke his legs now he's crawling
they ripped out his tongue
and then it was flung,
to the fishes who gave it a mauling

In the not so distant future
from a past not far away

where the "twain" does meet and greet the early dawn;

and the "well at purse" can do no worse
but fetch a castle high;

with his minions outside shivering on the lawn,
hence greet the early vagabond.

Back then the primitive did hail
we've not flagged too far since

obligated and elated either way;

but you tell me if you'd agree
if we'd have half a chance

I once owned a horse we called Fred.
I feared he was slow in the head.
One day, he'd not ride,
so I sliced up his hide,
and proceeded to beat him 'till dead!

i’ve seen where the
side-walks stop,
hindered and depressed
a tear-streak
at the jaw-line.
A horizon
unfolding and
untouched
before us

so we go
and muddy our toes
where new explorers
may one day
yearn to walk.
themselves

this is a perennial
habit,
an obligation to
the wander-struck
starving children,
so they
will find the
answers we’ve hidden
with history
and song.

When the sound of big ekpo drums
Reverberated from the village square
Talking drums conveyed messages
Cracked by trained ears of initiates
The cult ensured a peaceful social order
And guided the steps of men for good

Everywhere became black and dark
Not by threatening rain cloud, nor smoke
But by masquerading guiding spirits
Of our customs and values in the clans
When criminals and evil doers were nailed
From head, pinned to the ground, in disgrace

Nothing changes with hateful birds
apologies, apologies 

The cold-hearted fish with much to say
nothing constructive

Always condemning finding fault with every thought
with one you claimed to love and cherish
apologies apologies

All the money in the world, or
romantic overtones can make the pain any less painful 
like a lion in the bush ready to strike, it still rocks the senses
apologies apologies

I saw a pigeon;
I heard a ' bang!'.
There was no bird.

I saw a plaice;
I heard a 'splash!'.
There was no fish.

I saw a tree;
I heard a 'han!'.
There was no forest.

I saw a house;
I heard a 'boom!'.
There was no shelter.

I saw a Man;
I heard a "nothing!."
There was no being.

was it the perfection
that was shattered
the worlds whimper

suffer the day
the brilliant occurence
these gifts
receieved

overlay my life with
dark eclipse
with one step in the darkness
and the other in the light

I fill the vision coffers
and speak the hopes
fire
this blaze
held trust

alive and well

and yet

Ive been dead before
been lost
and been found