A very happy 59th Birthday friend, Piscean today

Born on 11 March
of the year 1954 of our Lord,
gives the total number of 24 =six,
to friend Stan,
who is on this site our poetic man….

God bless you with subtler poetry
as those who have a Venus-ion number,
create lovely history,
no not mystery
but with all sincerity poetry
which is a unique Stanly creativity.

More later, as many more moons come your way,
don't forget to count the blue ones friend you may
and must longer stay

Sixty three times I have seen
deep winter fade to ides of March
leaving behind hints of green
in forests among the oaks and larch.

And I have planted many trees
now grown tall and wide for shade
so large they hardly show light breeze.
I've made young woods of open glades.

For three score and then three springs
wild lands have bloomed before my eyes
plum trees, briers and other things
beneath the deep blue southern skies.

I close my eyes and there floats across
a dream of death
I long for refreshment of limbs
stretched and rested
like a childhood cuddle

I close my mouth and there wafts above
a smell of decay
I ache for the pungent return
of savoury delicacies
to tingle on taste buds

Now all is open to me
I feel alive and see
all in my eye
It burns with a knowing rage
and I taste contempt
A bitterness
too bleak to bite.

SMILELY FACES
I send my thoughts
in smiley-faces
hearts and roses
and butterfly wings.
you see
my voice doesn’t sing
the way it did before
and the words don’t come
so easily

My art has lost its soul
I don’t see myself
anymore

Rob Another Score or Store…

In dalliance park they make the deal,
impure white powder for stolen cash.
They’re just part of a revolving wheel,
this shit happens when you're only trash.

Into a needle then a wanton blue vein,
charging through to hearts and minds.
In seconds he’s laughing at his pain,
a dead man with simplicity unwinds.

A score to settle or a score to make,
dealers soon start to rule the streets.
Men we call evil always on the take,
puppet master's careful who he meets.

deep pool
dark eye half opened by the moon

you will drown
when you step forward

wind snickers through bones of winter trees
skulls’ harp

now - complete your business
no forgiveness

from right
across
to the left

the surf rolls
pebbles
shells
a million sighs

Tonight for the first time I told them.
I don't know if they believed me.
They were shocked.
"No way!"
"He's such a nice guy"
"I guess you just can't trust anyone"
Maybe I shouldn't have told them.
Maybe it was my fault.
All I remember is his hands
Too many hands
All happening so fast
I feel sick

The ink is on its way,
Black velvet of empty space.
That gives you so much.
Its drops shall become as figures,
On a white expanse that tell stories,
For us all, it will stand out, on white virgin pages.
There you will mingle with the kings of poetic forms,
Words formed as a stark blitz against the snow.

oldie goldie
well nice,
I too saw
a lovely oldie couple

I was traveling in a New York bound bus
and the highway had no crossing,
yet, across the opposite road,
I saw an elderly couple,
who could hardly walk …

the man moved inch by inch,
his woman did not flinch,
all bus drivers slowed down
in obeisance..

then another set,
I saw an old lady
who saw her hubby
fumbling with a toast,
he could no longer butter…