The stream (all workshops)
When my love is feeling ill
with fever, sore throat, or a chill
or upset stomach, even croup
she sure loves potato soup
So I peel a spud or three
( depending on the size you see )
I take up a large sharp knife
and cut them up for my sweet wife
Then I set water to boil
and add a touch of cooking oil
drop cubed potatoes into pot
and add black pepper ( quite a lot )
Next I stir in lots of milk
add some oregano or its ilk
put in some salt but not too much
and some butter, just a touch
What is a star ?
But something dying
Yet is beautiful
Does anyone miss it ?
When no longer there
Leaving a void
Unreachable
Untouchable
Only meant to be gazed upon in awe
Sharing light
Giving guidance
Symbol of hope
Ablaze
Burning bright
While wearing a façade
Of ice
Many gaze upon you
No one can
Draw near
One day you will fade
Still
An image will
Remain
I lie upon your cooling breasts,
desire's rhythm spent, yet still held
within your warmth, your heated breath;
your fingers smooth along my skin,
then you softly say: "I've never
felt this, before today."
a rickity rainbow of houses and shops
fresh aroma of sugar cane and hops
street musicians sing to the sea
wrong-sided drivers scoff at me
but the amazing part is how I feel!
alive, tingling, shimmering zeal
and an urgent urge to giggle a'loud
..."I want to live here FOREVER!"
sacrifice and bravery
lays open -- bellies of youth --
out fall innocence, and ignorance --
shock comes
with the question
what was I thinking?
playing real war games
real bullets -- real blood
real murder
welcome to where nightmares
are born
don't sleep lest they haunt
you even at rest
daylight is not enough for their taunts
war is not an adventure
it is authorized insanity
Night has fallen, separating
her and I with miles of darkness
yet when I gaze up at new stars
that gleam the joys of her dark eyes
I raise my hands and know that she
feels my carress in moonlight.
New version:-
Night has fallen, separating
her and I with miles of darkness;
yet when I gaze at endless stars
that gleam the joys of her dark eyes
I raise my hands and know that she
feels my touch in moonlight.
Patriotic
Come fathers, come mothers,
Bring your daughters, bring your sons,
Gather round ye one and all,
Be proud from where you come.
If being called American,
Brings about your humiliation,
Try living someplace else;
The life of another population
You have forgotten all the sacrifice
In this nations foundation and formation.
I came upon a house today,
though most of it had gone away,
and left behind its mossy bones
of listing piers and cracked hearth stones.
So I took a pause for pondering
in midst of random woodland wandering
to think of those who once lived there
where none go now but deer and hare.
My gaze took in a lonesome hollow
and found that it was drawn to follow
up the course of a clear spring
that issued from a small stone ring.
I cannot see her now,
lost upon the turmoil
of Llyr's chaotic ocean
for she is on a journey
time and distance
will not let me follow,
will not let me take her place.
I can feel her determination,
her quiet strength upon the wind,
and I know the fearful doubt
coiling round her mind and heart
for I have languished in
the same darkness unrelenting
the same darkness we have fought.
I like to bluster flapping clothes
To feel the silk of milky snows
It tickles when I twist the leaves
And rasp around the old oak trees.
I like to touch electric wires
Or fan the flames of red hot fires
To giddy up the static tracks
Of atmospheric lightning cracks.
I like to knock the blocking doors
Or lick the dust on dirty floors
To stir the carbon factory smoke
And whisk away the toxic choke.
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