The autumn air is full of scents
as if to prove the truth and worth
of beauty in decay.
It lifts my flagging spirits up.
My sadness drains away.
Breathing deeply I inhale,
and exhale all my pain,
but then I journey on to home
and I am lost again.

I feel as though I cannot rise.
However much the sun may shine
it’s fractured through a screen of tears.

Like morning mists that softly fade
or shattered rainbows after rain,
love always disappears.

I seek it deep, inside my heart,
but doubt that I can prise it out
and feel the fault is mine.

I hope and pray, and scream and shout,
that all may pass in time
or sleep will come and I forget
that you were ever nearly mine
while I still wanted more.

Love’s a torment.
Love is cruel
Love rips me to my core
and proves that I’m as much a fool
as I was before.

I dare not look ahead or back
for there’s no more of love in life
than loneliness or dread permits

and so i go
along the road,
the road that lies ahead,
on and on, the road ahead,
until the light is dead


Poem for Devora

Can I bring him home? she said.
She pleaded with her Mamma,
Can I bring him home?
She pleaded, on her knees.
I found him by the woodland well
Where ivy cloaks the trees,
Where the Morning Glory twists and twines,
Where rose musk coats the breeze.
He is of the mortal race.

A naked man, his manhood cupped
In praying hands, stood by.
He stood as if disgraced.
The shadows hid his face.
The shadows hid his smile.

But what will you do with him?
Will you wrap him up in feathered robes
To keep him warm at night?
Where will you keep him?
Locked away?
Hidden in the dark?
All men need the light.
And did he seduce you
Or did Cupid strike the spark?
Will you bind his wrists with bindweed?
Or will you set him free?

We’ll have to live in secret.
I don’t need lock or key.
He won’t mind where we live.
He wants to live with me.
I stole him from the elf queen.
I had to break her spell.
Why it is I love him,
That I cannot tell.

But I will stitch a shirt for him
That reaches to the ground
All embroidered here and there
With birds and flowers and stars
And I will braid his hair at night
With berries I have found.
I’ll make a chorus of the birds
To sing a song of sixpence,
And keep the wolf away
On our wedding day.
He promises to stay with me
Until he fades and dies.
My love tells me no lies.

I will always love him,
My loving, lovely, gentle love,
The beautiful Tam Lin.

Wild Heart

They thought that they could tame my love
and keep all for themselves,
they never understood my heart.
My heart is not so small.
I spread my love throughout the land,
unwilling was my hand
to make a pledge to never part.
I am too far-seeing.
Don’t try to tame me to your will.
We are just beginning.
If I stay with you my love
you’ll know my heart is willing.
I’ll stay until you’re leaving.
Let’s speak no more of grieving.
I will fulfil your yearning.
My love is in my being.

Shakespeare ~ Sonnet 116 (here because it’s true)

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

My Heart

my heart is no longer an open book
not even to myself
it’s in a language i can’t read
the pages keep on turning
the pages are well-thumbed
I am tired of reading

i don’t know whether i should smile or groan
i am looking for a sign
a symbol
a fingerprint
that shows that it’s still mine
or is it yours
has it always been yours
all the time

to kindle a spark
of recognition
on this dim lit path
i am seeking an illustration
of a crossroads
in the dark

Winter Witch

Asleep in my arms, an angel,
or am I sleeping, in a dream?
The smell of her soft hair enfolds me,
drowns me, holds me,
emboldens me to think she’s real.
Deep in my dream she pushes, rolls me,.
A hot spark rushes,
entwines my spine,
a strong tender warmth, in the dark.
Every move she makes, a stroke,
a touch that tells me she is mine.
Her gripping thighs press hard against me.
My mind explodes. I’m on fire.
Our passion steams up the windows
and still desire doesn’t tire.
I love her in ways my words never tell.
Her breath on my neck, a bewitchment,
I’m spinning under her spell.
She is wild as rushing water,
she sweeps me home and away.
When the rapid falls are over,
she reaches out for again.
She is drenching rain.
She lays beside me,
slumbering in sensual rest,
contented beneath my hand.
I am her first dry land.
The snow outside is piling high.
White blankets wrap up the door.

The Caterpillar Speaks (updated version)

The Hatter is a lunatic
He never knows which card to pick.
The March Hare is always running late.
He hasn’t even got a date.
The clock’s not as it seems.

The Hatter has bad dreams,
He’s always in distress
And Alice has a problem too,
She’s not sure what to do
When she doesn’t fit her dress.

They’re lost inside a fairy tale
And none of it is true.

There’s a thought inside the Hatter’s head
That Alice is his match
But he hears laughter all the time.
The cards are hard to catch.
He can’t make reason out of rhyme,
And every time he thinks of love
He’s haunted by a bat.

Twinkle twinkle little dove,
His stars may help with that,
They’re shining bright enough above
And all will be complete
When he sees roses
Scattered at his feet.