I Cannot Capture Love

I cannot capture love
from where I sit
for its wings fly to high.

To grasp such beauty
to penetrate the sky
as my heart……
flutters through the air.

Can you feel the warmth
from these wings of angels
will they surround me
and hold back the tears.

Love is not a toy to play
but is a fragile vase to enjoy
with caressing hands
a gentle touch
appreciation over years.

I cannot capture love
from where I sit
for its wings fly to high.

I cannot hold –
the heart of love
but to watch it grow
and fly.

A Single Brick

Do you see the wall
the entirety of bricks
can you see the one…
tired on the floor.

All the strength and mortar
chipped away
crumbled edges
worn to the very clay.

Reddened – blemished
then cast out.

Not even a corner piece
nor a hidden ledge
no shadowed place
of society to hide.

A brick which stands alone
to bear the weight….
as the wall looks down upon.

They see the holes – as emptiness
yet this one brick…. sees the light
and then he feels the hardened steel
which penetrates….

A solitary soldier
he waits out in the field
a lonely life is his
a single brick
who stands against –
the wall.

In Hand

She traps me
when she leaches from the ground
black tar….. to cover me
no longer can I breathe –
nor fly.

Cocooned, I watch her
as she always leaves a trail
but never looks behind
because she knows….
what she left.

Animated – is her conscious
desperate energy
which fly’s.

This single social butterfly
with ink – driven into her skin
scarred….. detached numbers
without a meaning –
or an end.

What is she to do
but hover… in her delight
fluttering to lies
which we all see –
and recognise.

A frightened woman
this little girl is
a compass
without a bearing
she’s lost…..
her way home.

But I am where she left me
the tarnish on the floor
waiting by the window
a candle –
lit at night.

I wear no smile
I am no judge
for she is… her only jury
my only gavel
is an open heart –
in hand.

The Reality of Darkness

She was a light
she was the brightest star
she was the corner stone
that supported life.

He was the shadow
he was the darkness
he was the gallows
that lurked in hollow places.

She was the sun
He was the dark clouds
She fed the earth
He was the storm
Who ripped at her
with words of hail.

She is the moon
He is the night
she will be the sun again
but he will always be
the reality of darkness
which blocks her light.

Bed Of Roses

We lay naked to the sun
like coffee torn from the stem
scattered on the floor
we now explore the earth.

 I reach for you – I feel your skin
these dark hues of bruised petals
but what life must lie within.

Gentle hands; sweep the sky
to brush away the contrail clouds
to brush away the crystals from your eyes
to stop you in the wake
so you may realize – a different path.

I am now your earth – I am your honour
dig your fingers into me
find your integrity
in the depth of these new roots
let your anger seep –
and allow the rains to wash away
so you and I – may grow.

Then we will lie –
for the next hundred years
on our new bed of roses.

Does Love Still Exist

Does love really die
or does it just fade
into the black of night.

Does it rise again
to shine in the dawn
and smile
when in the blue of sky.

Does it dance between the stars
polishing the roughness off
to show the diamond
its brilliance in the light.

Does love drink from the water
to refresh its limbs
and strengthen roots.

Does love follow the river
to the sea.

Does love kiss the tender lips
tossing out….
all the tired forget-me-nots.

Does love still exist?

It does!

For Love is the morning mist
which kisses the trees –
and me.

A Beacon

I sat amongst the trees
while I watched –
the falling stars
then leaned against the earth
so it would feed my heart again.

Can I paint the moon tonight
and remember your warm hands
as I lay cold, in these celestial woods
damp mind – soaked
from these raining thoughts
now twisted between your roots.

My hope, is your sweet salt of lips –
will touch mine
while our racing tears, mesh as one
and our union is entwined.

Now I close my eyes
and watch for you each briny morn
I wish to be a beacon
as you sail towards me
because on this land
your love –
is my horizon.

A Dot Upon A Page

I mean nothing to this world
that’s just the stark reality
an insignificant truth.

Remove the stain of clothes
a costume if you will
and what you’ll see –
is nothing.

A dot upon a page
A severe austerity
A blemish
An outrage.

Erase this speck
black soot
dust
and what’s left
but the starkness –
of the page.