water jewel glitter go
down down the dark hunger
of the drain
in dream pipe wander
luxury we squander
from tail finned mind
Sputnik and Laika
rust and bones
and water
rushing
water gushing

douse magic
douse waste
shaving
and wake
wake from
water dreams
of swimming

Much to my surprise this morning
was visited by a light frost
without a hint of any warning
I hope tomato plants aren't lost

Guess we'll know by afternoon
if luck has chanced to come our way
or if I'll have to replant soon
on a somewhat warmer day

I have come out
of the feeling I had
I have let go of the passion
with which I was clad.

I don't think of you
every morning as I wake up
Nor do I tie my hair
the way you liked.

I don't cook
your favorite dishes anymore
And I have abandoned
'that black dress' for sure.

I don't anymore
hum your favorite songs
And our conversations
from my memory, are gone.

I have no idea
how funnily you smiled
And I am unaware
that your jokes made me wild.

"WHERE ROSEMARY BLOOMS"
Margaret Ann Waddicor 6th May 2011.

Heaven bloomed
the loveliest blue
Mallorca rocks of ochre
orange
grey
while cumulus
white
striped skies in hues so similar
filled the view.

Steep cliff of stone
you drop
as if to hell
a well so deep
we see
we don't
as mists rise up volcanic damp
theatrical and strange.

My love,
last night I dreamt
that I was
blind,
and You
described
each tiny thing
with vibrance
and such clarity
that when I woke
I wished
I could not see.

Supine, silent eyes jammed shut against
spew ridden daylight.
Disgorge and discharge, create a Technicolor yawn.

Sleep enshrouds weakened frame,
dull ache in the pit of stomach remains,
drowsiness a buttress.

Putrid nausea ebbs and flows
spasms of acrid pain,
wrap my brain in torment.

Imbibe Adam’s ale and consume the loathsome antidote
the process begins again,
spinning on the never ending wheel of anguish.

I need to tell you an untotld story,
It involves four ignorant characters,
as for the worls the are blackened glory,
which don't seem fecund to this world of actors...

Everyday in the morning,
sometimes I see a mother too groaning,
But usually there are there are three little stars,
burning in the shadow of a tree...

Take a night out of your life
And what makes it all change?
Take a night out of your life
And watch it all change

Take the light out of the day
And what makes it all change?
Take the light out of the day
And I swear it’s all strange

Come inside, and sleep till winter
Come inside, and dream it all better

Take the love out of your heart
And what makes it all change?
Take the love out of your heart
And I swear you won’t feel the same

southern air is dry
it makes your mouth
tingle like a teenage kiss
picks up strands of hair
as if it wants to be
a sure and certain lover
at night it sighs
across palm trees

across streets where
apartment windows
lie open to its charm
a guy watching a game

a woman
smoking and
watching it drift
further away
with all her dreams

and me
on the edge of a chair
teetering
on the wire
weaving words
as a safety net

I fell into a restful slumber
in woods beneath the living lumber
and while I was asleep I dreamed
(or at least that's how it seemed)

While visiting the land of nether
during rare warm winter weather
my mind expanded,to include all
from wood mites to trees so tall

They'd all joined in a great debate
ruled by calm reason not by hate
they elected a wise owl to speak
and thus end their silent streak