Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Sanguine not Sangreal!

I am surrounded by roses!
They are the colour of blood.
The pin-pricked finger
Has begot a bud.
Petals unfurling till it drops
Upon my frozen feet.

Why is it thus?
The life force gently flowing
And my feet are cold?


Warm blood,
Warm blooded me.
Too much heat!
Gone now,
In a trice.
Whatever that is.

Life's too short!

Exploration

The gentle sounding out
And self exposure!
I am this!
I am that!
Two people,
Of mature years
And not beautiful,
Gently exploring
Possibilities.
Who are you?
Where do you live?
What do you do
In the evenings?
Lunch time perhaps?
But we both have a life
And others in it.
And we know
That there will be a limit.
No real possibilities then!
Oh perhaps a few!
No, not really.

Dream Maker

"I will write to you tonite"
But you never do!
What do you mean?
"Write to you tonite"
Not pen and ink,
Nor words I think.
Touching my dreams perhaps.
Weaving a spell in my ears
With your music.
There's the clue!
And all these weeks
I thought it was
Coincidence!

Honesty

For I am old and cold my love
For I am old and cold
And dried like a husk of corn my love
Dried like a husk of corn

You think to warm my bones my love
You think to warm my bones
But my cold is deeper than bone my love
My cold is deeper than bone

The chill is in my soul my love
The chill is in my soul
Can your warmth reach so far my love
Can your warmth reach so far

Oh but a body's heat is comforting
And you are scorching young
Then try your heat my lovely lad
And warm my very the soul

Quiver


Feather and leaf,
Quiver in grief.
Fur and claw,
Know there is more,
Bone and bough,
Oh how they
Tremble now.


Confusion in the wind.
Rumbles the trees.
Whispers of sadness,
The crossroads ahead,
Lost in the shadows.
All of our making!