focus sweet
the whisper and this
press knocks the ink
aligned
and the sheet of idealizations
is lifted blazing with contrasts

You were my plate for years
and every day my print
would arrive
like dawn
sullen and drawn
Exhuberant and errant

where has all the resolution
gone
when its change needed
winds heeded

I shall miss the nocturne
standards
the daylong seige
the turning of the plea
and standard borne
principle

A coin for my pocket sir
for something to eat?
with no mum and dad
we beg on the street.
Not eaten for two days
my little sister and me.
A coin for my pocket sir
for a warm cup of tea?

A coin for my pocket miss
to get shoes for our feet?
We haven’t got a penny
or anywhere to sleep.
Our feet are really sore
without shoes they bleed.
A coin for my pocket miss
for something we need?

Tom says "I am not just a slice of pizza, I am the whole pie."
And this is the way words are eaten
when everything is new under the sun.
And this is the way the earth manifests
beauty
unless there is
an imperfect reflection in the eye of the beholder
holding love hostage for another day.
And this is the way we set ourselves free to face a new dawn
that opens the gates of heaven and lifts the corners of a smile.

One Too Many

I have composed countless poems
As you all know
Since I have no fixed mind ,
nor fixture of mind,
I am an unique entity...

No two poems of mine are alike,
as i believe in variety
Loved Style,
All my while .

I stand in no row or queue
of recognition ,
as I know twill never come,
when I am alive .

But then it will be too late
Posthumously
which they will.