Description

A desirous, uncontrollable, urge; fingers tap on the letter symbols. I wish to talk with you, I wish to talk with me. But more than talk; to also enter that place of arms around shoulders, that space of camaraderie, to wear and intertwine with the firebrand intensity of lustful love.

Prayers, incantations, meditations; call them as you will, but call them from being immersed within, and not from being that shallow insignificant observer without. I walked on through the tiredness, I tapped my symbolic witness into the virtual keyboard, these are shared words now, just as we shared the pleasures of snowfall a year gone by last winter.

How else to say, only yes I have ordered the book about description; I will return through the swathes of orange and crimson poppies, I will again walk sideways down the hill, towards the pink and private chapel. But for now, just as the pace was taking over I will draw the night to a close, I am to warmly celebrate my naked body, among the finest of Egyptian cotton bedsheets; a good goodnight to you all

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Givers

Almost too tired to write

Too tired to stir the chocolate powder

Into my bedtime drink

So tired that I fell asleep

Listening to the life story

Of the greatest writer of them all

Now, in a half alive recollection 

I remember an old colleague

A true gentleman of Eastern European origin

A pristine refugee engineer who 

(after he waxed lyrical) lent me his perfectly 

Preserved copy of Anna Karenina

I mention John in the same breath as Verity

Where are they now, where do our friendships 

(real and imagined) reside after those moments

When moments of joy are passed by

After those conversations and letters

Are, for a final time, passed over

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Hidden Away

On the money, with every given gift

Except unable to give the gift of love

Don't know why it had to be

Caught up in the criss-cross-fire of lust

Easier then to buy the artefact, the token

Less pain than the pain of life’s words spoken

To breeze in and breeze right on out again

Easier than the softness of one last soft refrain

Jealous of the sand dunes and the sea

Jeopardised by the shot at one time being free

Rebellious in the dance hall & the kissing tree

Intrepid owner of the visible, sparkle eyes to see

Laid up in the great big bed, music at my side

Lawrence ringing in my head, in memories to hide

Take them all and take again, drill down to the core

Afraid to speak, or more to move those slower steps 

Move slowly evermore, towards the chambers floor

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Filmic

Russian meadows, Yevtushenko's wolds

Orthodox church for all of farming stock

Idyllic imagery in slowed down slow motion

Sorrowful sorrows; ten words are ushered in

I am having a child, but it is not yours

Broken, taken at that instant, loss

Immense loss measured by desolate means

In union with the desperate soul who feels the

Crushing burden; the raw words of loneliness

Smiling eyes, cheerful conversation, an interlude, then

Death, comatose after the abortion, unquenched pain

The unrequited absence, loves abstention in abstensis

Our own destructions, laid bare, to flagrantly destroy us

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Countryside Café

All those times I drove along this road

Times when you were not open for business

Or times when I did not have the time to care

Today I took the time to leave my workplace early

It's already been a week I've been away from home

Time enough, time for the daffodils to flower

Time for the lawns to be more than my own

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop