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The stream (all workshops)

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And as I awake
to this, the glorious morn
in my birthday suit...

Spirituality DIFFERENTLY

very minuscule folks
read poems of mine
how can
above the clouds ever shine

if there is no sprinkling
of love
of flowers
from thine

Smiles and love
are gold mines
life's wondrous
inherent free designs

O Poemiers
of mine
you alone are
to me divine
with you I'm fine
so Divine

hope you'll also
self refine

The Light In His Eye

I was there at his birth
One fine summer's day.
He came down to earth
So chipper and gay.
He was tiny and wet,
So timid and shy,
The first sunrise he met
Lit the light in his eye.

He stayed close by his litter
As the wagging of tails
Constituted him fitter,
Put the wind in his sails.
He soon learned to give
All he needed to do,
He learned how to live
His days faithful and true.

The Succubus (the female version of the Incubus)

Ah, for your weight of many stones
that crush my heaving chest at night!
Henceforth, when darkness falls,
you must no longer perch
on my breathless chest to prey on my mind.
You tortuous succubus! I have seen you
in the disguise of Aphrodite,
young and lovely beyond all measure,
but now I know what you are:
an aged vampire, an old crone
who lusts after the affection of men,
soon to grow tired of them,
then to discard your unfortunate victims.
Now, no matter
how you might approach me

The cry’s of the lustrous lark of life

I open my dreary eyes and awake to the pitiful depressing sound of The lustrous lark of life crying out its blue tears of time.

There Once Was a Long Vanished England

There once was a long vanished England;
Of well-spoken presenters
Of the BBC Home Service,
Light Service, and Children’s Favourites,
Of coppers and tanners, and ten bob notes;
And jolly shopkeepers, and window cleaners.
I remember my beloved Wolf Cub pack,
How I loved those Wednesday evenings,
The games, the pomp and seriousness of the camps,
The different coloured scarves, sweaters and hair
During the mass meetings,
The solemnity of my enrolment,
Being helped up a tree by an older boy,

The Incubus (a short-short novella)

Tempter, demon straight from hell
You seed females minds with amorous dreams
Where they came from, they don’t know,
But you are evil, I can tell. (old Trillarian saying,)

My Adaption of the Seven Deadly Sins

I dream of nothing but you
even though my heart should be with another
I would gladly walk through flames of fire
to be free from this aching wish to have you
My lack of self-control
will be the very weakened power
that kills me
I’m restless in knowing I will be
lusting death itself.


Come on now hurry up darling
don't stroll like a puppy
you used to when you were six

yeah mommy coming up soonly
shall catch up quickly
let me take a breath

O don't wag your tail
as you used to early
now breakfast is laid
use a nappy

wow what hot soup
but salt less
why are you afraid
now of my prostate
it's now safe
no more kids

here have a cone of ice
cream added
but in early life you gave me corn

An artist's Playground

Colors explode onto the page
A dancing bug and a dog in a cage
Droplets fly and multiply
A humming bird and a swatted fly

My paintbrush moves with a mind of it own
Flowing across the page, never going home
The sky begins to come into view
Then you see the water and many wet shoes

A lonely old fisherman waiting for a bite
A giant, looming oak tree reaching to an unreal height
The grass is filled with deer and dirty goats
In the city you see tall beautiful women with long fury coats


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