Pages 41 to 50

Can a sleeping pill be part of a poem?

Can a sleeping pill be part of a poem?
Yes, if it does not stop me dreaming.

I soared in the skies looking up and down
Not much on the up side, a face warmed, the morning Sun
But down I saw you, rushing, disappearing into a garage
In jeans, long coat and your bulked hand bag.
 
And I imagine you pouring down the contents of the bag
To find the keys to ones freedom and heart
Before sailing along the shire roads
And put some order in your mobile thoughts.

Page after page

Page after page
Line after line
Words lost in one's mind
A given friendship
An anchor in one's heart
Priceless gift
Priceless feelings

My friend

Cast a word if you can
Made of sunshine and tears
And tell me why they pour down
On sad or happy years?
 
Tell me which form you take
When you close your eyes
Are your wings light, great
As your heart ticking high?
 
Tell me, are you still singing
The words of creation
A new life, and bringing
Bit by bit dim anticipation?
 
Tell me . . .

Tape the time with magic wire

Tape the time with magic wire
Bridge two happy moments
One lived, one to be lived
One old, safe in your heart
The other new, yet vivid here
But both alive, both a present

My heart summons your heart

My heart summons your heart
Please help me my friend
To find our resting soul
And the place
Where true love is free from our storms
True friendship free from our fears
Where we can stand bare
Thriving to be.

I look at you

I look at you
My fingers on your skin
Drawing figures of ecstasy
A whirl in your heart
A dream from the night

My muse died this morning

My muse died this morning
No bone no flesh to amuse darkness
The cold shadows to sombre a soul
Fears to stop you running
My muse died
And freedom is no more

Fairy tooth,

 I dreamt about you
Fairy of my teeth
Your face was veiled
Your hands bared cuffed
And I knew somehow this morning
My pocket would bring home a tooth
And both free at last of you

Slides in the dark

Slides in the dark
Forms to fill in empty spaces
Rounds one's aura
Measures weights
Craves senses
Falls for more and
Gasps the cool air at the crack of dawn . . .

Anticipation over the crowd
Drifts the margins of the Thames
Escapes silences of deserts dancing dances of sin . . .

An artist
A woman
A muse
A scent
A friend?

You!

In days of cold unrest

In days of cold unrest
A smile of a child, seeking your eyes
A chirping of a bird, changing tune to be heard
Hopefully a visit, bringing warm you can keep
And as they leave, sun shining and a blanket of peace.