It was a strange turn of affairs
We had seen each other a few times
In the local pub
Spoken a couple of times
In the street
She was attractive
No, not attractive
Absolutely gorgeous
Way out of my league
So I thought,
She had taste
She had style
And, the body of a goddess
Then, out of a clear blue sky,
Actually it was night time,
She held my hand
Squeezed it gently
I turned
Looked into her eyes,
Suddenly I saw
And that was it
Pow!
I was
Smitten

Come on it’s Christmas, let yourself go
plenty of other days for trouble and woe.
It’s not always easy to push troubles away
but at least you could try it, just for a day.

Christmas is hard, when your heart is sore
but let all its sparkle, bring light to your door.
With little children’s faces beaming so bright
just thinking that Santa, had called last night.

I Dare to Tread
Where even angels
If any ,do dread,

Many works of creativity,
I have read
And
Many poets to victory lead,

I always endeavour
To help all those,
Who for me do care
As you do
And
Now my free verses share

Tending the Garden

In the articulation of snowflakes
the sun is never shamed;
compelled, the moon makes no excuses for her brilliant
display of turning towards and away,
her silver ballgown, slivers of reflection on
the open sea

Walk up to the mall.
Many of us are waiting there.
Scan along the many stalls
And choose us by the label.

If you find a fancy one
Upon a flimsy whim,
Take care to keep another spare
In case you're done too soon.

Walk about and show us off
And call us pretty names.
Wipe a tear, and then some phlegm,
For that's all the value in us.

the D is a soft T
the B is a soft P
the G a soft K
the J even softer
Z a soft S
V a soft F
H a soft W
(o, yes it is!)
making L, M and N
a triplet set of purity
R and X have
personalities all their own,
the vowels, of course,
are the stars of the show
(but sometimes Y
scabs for E,
don't tell him i said)
these tools educated
our art to
communicate
letting us
simple monkeys
reach out.

simply maddening
is this thumping…
this stomping
grinding thunder
in my knees...
wearied as they
are too used

bottles and canned
pills promising
lack-lustre
aspirations and fancies
rich and brilliant.
this passenger seat
this cold blueness
this hole

a true blue-collar
ache

I am unworthy to talk of faith
When it comes to religious feats
I know we can not all be wrong
God is who we say He is, though
I wonder who we say He really is
From whom He is, and who He is not
I look at the sacred places of adulation
To see holy empires and kingdoms
Unlike the glorious days of Olympians
Of gods pleading to be left alone
From the extractions of idolatry
That has gripped our belief systems
On the eternal journey of mankind
From what we think is pure and true

Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow
Of crystal, wandering water,
Thou art an emblem of the glow
Of beauty -- the unhidden heart --
The playful maziness of art
In Old Alberto's daughter;

But when within thy wave she looks - -
Which glistens then, and trembles - -
Why then, the prettiest of brooks
Her worshipper resembles;
For in my heart,as in thy stream,
Her image deeply lies - -
The heart which trembles at the beam
Of her soul - searching eyes.

Geezer's Rewrite:

DAY’S END

The minutes are heavy and long
and I begin to fall into those dark places
where there is no dreaming.

the wars go on.
and am losing to inevitability.
my spirit is beginning to break .
my walls are crashing down.

my soul if that is what I feel
kneels to disbelief.
my reason seeks the bliss of madness.
my heart clings to illusion

there is no peace.
I struggle to find a way
but the minutes are heavy and long
and nothing of me will be left
at the end of today