Low flow the high blow

Low blow the high flow

Trip the tease that strips to please

Low flow the high blow

Waters edge the bather’s pledge

Strip to please the tease that trips

Waters pledge, the bather’s edge

Low flow the high blow

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Come to terms

I’d forgot to grieve

Got up to leave

A mumbling stumbling goodbye

I’d not taken the time to cry

Too too busy not asking why

Caught up in my own insensitivity

Reading some other folks words

Looking at nature, studying birds

Wallowing in the following wind

Now it’s time to come to terms

Wash those wicked feelings, terminate the germs

Wish you all the best, with sincerity

I’m in the country and visiting the city

Writing and reading, words full of self-pity

Drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes

The world has become my oyster

That’s a tricky one, choices can loiter and be foisted

So I’ll catch their word, hoping that’s not too absurd

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Thought transference

You thought your way into my thoughts

And you fought your way right out again

It was your thinking not your drinking

That propped me, stopped me from sinking

Your critical, cryptic crossword completion

Revealed, your subtle sense of reason

And your letters, your letters though sparse and thin

Your written words sold me, fever rising, muse within

Your turn of phrase with unnerving staring gaze

Razor sharp, cutting; may I mention tension raised

The gifts you gathered, the detail mattered

Thoughtful choices, so so soft yet carefully scattered

Even now on leaving

Misbelieving there’s no articulated deceiving

Your thoughts I’m holding high

In my sinking, slinking, thinking

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At the dogs again

The steam room and the sauna

They are my racetrack, my sweet fleeting fauna

The swimming pool and the meditation star

They are my cigarette, my whisky, my pimp, my bar

Now this simple phraseology, this word psychology

This is my style, not yours, for that I make no apology

The tidy quiet room; laid back jazz and soulful blues

This is my non-hovel, I have no desire to grovel

Yet I read your works and marvel at your creation

Your escapades; words, to which I bear no relation

But just to put your mind at rest, in you I did invest

In the Jacuzzi; the plumes sure do dress the nest

The volva, the vulva caressed by volcanic water vests

Tattoos on thighs open your eyes, stir feelings blest

And there are girls there with their mothers

And ladies going on girls, there with their lovers

The lecher stretching don’t take much fetching

When there’s so much skin, skin waving, shaving skin

For inspiration and amusement, when in lent

The spa’s the place to rent

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Posing Nude

She more than made an effort, her figure creator. Every morning not yawning, but slipping on the tummy vibrator. Melba toast was the most that passed those sweet red lips. Palates, yoga, stretching, swaying, swaying those swinging hips.

The artists and the painters they did not restrain her. Posing nude for her life class and for her figure friend dude. Running on the moors, treading timeless, line-less steps. Pumping iron, and swimming on, down the full length lane.

Fully spread under summer sun, tanning, figure slamming. Cramming in the cranberry juice and the fat free yoghurt. All of this to manage the refrain between size twelve and size fourteen

Skin supplements, perpetual E45. Conscientiously keeping her beauty, keeping beauty alive. The hairdressers kept moving, they were kept on their toes. A trim, a bob, no perm, for my brunette, well trimmed rose.

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