Ode to How Stean Gorge

 
Above your iced, gushing torrents,
that would welcome first snow,
I hear you whisper, through the wind
to my quiet,
Sunday-soul;
'to me these falling leaves,
are more lonely
than cold,' and the sky turns all over,
in a breath.
I pull on my tactical, iron
vest, arms wrapped about me
protect my treasure chest,
and I climb all your different faces
of rock,
carrying with me, no heavy stones
of my own.

Your hard touch mocks against my skin,
and I tuck all loose
exposures in, so pockets of memory
and love can begin, to smile
from inside your caverns.
I find somehow, you are as old
and ravenous, for them,
as ever you were, and
I follow your signs and win my spurs above
familiar swirling,
and a wanton danger.
 
I leap across your voids, raising you wagers,
I will win, both game
and set; and you tease me back
to childhood without debt, without
arrears of moonlight, or cost.
The sun sets
across the lion's brow,
and I ascend his back;
a benevolent ghost...
 
I only came to remind you, you're beautiful,
and not all who wander
are lost.

   

Sandy Hook

  
How much time,
could ever heal this,
or lend condolence? As blood
runs cold
for such stolen innocence?
For the tiny hands,
that will never again hold,
and the tiny hearts,
that will never now
grow;
for lives
almost begun,
that can never be old;
and the premature setting
of so many
sweet suns…
Forget the incessant
wagging
of political tongues, or the
pathetic assertion
of some ancient rite;
too many new angels adorn
the heavens tonight,
beyond reason
or any words
that could form truth, or sense.
The price of
plundered treasure;
the cost;
is immense, and all beauty
is eclipsed in this moment.

Only one thing is certain, and sure...
something,
is forever broken.
  
I keep children safe every day...I couldn't bear it if 20 of them never made it home.
Words can't describe. Thoughts cannot imagine.
My love to all who will feel this. School is supposed to be safe.

Oceanus and Tethys

   
We sat in my row boat,
sweet Tethys and me,
awaiting a horizon
that promised
much calmer seas, for the sun to rise, pink,
and the dark waves to cease
their cold, harsh semblance,
of my days.
  
And she ran her fingers
with most careful grace, along
every scar
in my boat
of wood,
singing something soothing
as all good sea-nymphs should;
and she would say nothing,
as she silently,
read my mind.
  
She could see all the seashells I had
once left behind, and all the times
I'd walked this shore,
long after the tide,
searching and turning,
only to painfully find,
I'd cut my finger
lifting the pretty ones
from the sand.
   
And she seemed to know,
without words,
that I could no longer stand
to trust my own
torn
and bleeding hands,
to hold them,
and know their beauty,
without a pinch, or a snare.
   
But though she had
those terrifying
seashells, in her hair,
and the most beautiful for the suggestion
of clothes;
it frightened her none,
and she sat,
like a goddess in my leaking boat;
  
patiently waiting there,
whilst Oceanus mended his holes.
     

The Man in the Moon

      

“Think only, 

on what you are going to put first”,

said the man in the moon

to the spider

at his side.

She watched him intently, as

she spun her web; a thin

and veiled disguise.

“I put first

whatever feels right,” she whispered

as she tied up

knots in the sky, connecting the

stars’ angel-light with the words

she wished

she could say.

When he turned

his face away,

she knew she could no longer

stand

to be brave

…and she let her costume fall,

on the ground

it revealed

she was not a spider at all, but a

firefly drawn

to his light,

“I glow because of you,” she said,

and together,

they lit up the night.

Playing with this week's theme for Leeds Savage Club Writers' task: 'Tactical Bask'...

     

Hunger

     

Starving hands

trace the parts of me

that ebb and flow,

dip their famished fingers alongside

ravenous toes into honey

that promises sweetness to taste; to run

soft and clear, enough

to sate, and so generously nourish;

…temperate heartbeats and arms,

consider half-wants to cherish, and gently,

they lay them aside;

needing

is the only thing that matters

tonight, and tomorrow

there will be infinite, beautiful time

for talking and words enough…

this tender moment

there is nothing

more important

to discuss

than veiled desires

just barely revealed;

…for nothing was ever

more precious and true

as the way that this hunger feels.

      

Heaven In Strobe Lights

   

Bring me heaven in strobe lights,

come rove and explore;

reckless hands, all inhibition,

cast wanton, to the floor like the skins,

of forbidden fruits,

beckoning

and craving, voyeurs ache

to be you,

or I:

hard-backed against the wall,

in this slow-motion room where dark angels

all call, immoral and teasing,

at the cliff-edge of cruel, until we tremble and ache

with the yearning truth

of every white-hot touch 

and caress… Sullied beautiful throbs and sparks

against tenderness, and I want to be wholly

and eternally

undressed by gentle claws and a

wild 

velvet tongue…

I dare them now...ask us to leave…

…such pleasure cannot be wrong.

        

The Twilight Dream

    
No pretty words
this barely-morning,
will right how wrong it feels,
to wake,
and know myself alone;
delicious flavours of you
still pepper
my tongue,
and your breath lays softly in my bones.
   
Saturated,
in last night's laughter;
in whispers, 
those burning looks and words,
with silent desires,
almost trusted,
almost told,
I turn and seek you
in the twilight peace.
    
Barely kiss me, half-asleep,
a searching hand 
comes tracing
and caressing release;
but blind am I now 
that you might see,
and I sorely feel,
every sacrifice,
I make 
to protect,
tonight.
   
All pleasure in giving feels eternally right,
and I am
exactly, 
where in truth,
I want to be,
...as eyes wide shut,
I taste you again...
and in ghost-arms, give in to my dream. 
   

On The Nature Of Love

    

Love hurts. This is true. This is always true. For love, in it’s truest form, is a selfless thing. 
   
It is not, by far, an effortless thing. It needs your time, reverent respect, and your constant attention. It pains you with its beauty, and it skewers you with its sadness; it demands your laughter…and your tears. But without both of these, it is not love. You hurt only because you feel. And nothing worth having ever comes without a fight. 
   
With the warm sunshine and the generous smiles of love, with its beautiful rainbows and bright butterflies, will come the dark nights, and the confusing fogs, that mean you will lose your way. You will stumble, fall, scrape your palms and your knees…and bleeding, get up, and keep following your star. Because love is a thing you cannot help but give, and it is not given because you expect to receive.  
    
Love is lessons you were put on earth to teach. And each of your lessons are handed to whom they were intended to reach. They’re received at the precise moment that person needed them to be, and you will equally take lessons from them. Little pieces of your selves are wrapped and exchanged; tokens that can never be erased, or cancelled out. Given only as selfless gifts - equal students, equal teachers. 
    
The lessons don’t fill or create gaping voids; they don’t make you complete. You have to be whole, and listening, to understand them. 
    
Sometimes, it is only years later that you realise their messages. But when you do, they enhance the world and your soul; and make it shine like you’ve never known. They make you better at loving.   
     
A lifetime ago, it seems, I knew someone who loved beyond measure. 
   
And another who was loved by them. I knew them both very well.
   
It taught me this: If I smile when you smile, and I hurt because you do…then it is probably because I love you. 
    
Be you friend, family, lover…I will say so, before the day my tongue won’t move. And I will show you so, before my limbs grow too heavy to hold you…or too weak to bring you a rose. 
     
Love is bigger than pride, than honour, than fear… And tomorrow just might be too late.

A musing to get me in the mood for the Leeds Savage Club Writers' Group theme this week - 'Love Hurts'... :)

Anniversary

   
These last days slipped by
un-noticed by the world around me.
They scurry about their lives with no notion
of the anniversary
we are counting
this week.
It is simple to think
a year has drifted by,
and so very hard to believe
all at the same time.
There has been much change,
in myself,
in others….today will pass without
bothering
who it shouldn’t.
I’ve learned, again,
to keep parts of you inside;
our secrets,
best hidden away.
And when I bring you roses today,
not even you will see them.
They will be red, for love,
…always love…
orange, for pride…
yellow;
for an absent friendship.
They will never have water,
the buds will not bloom,
but no matter,
all the same,
I will bring them for you.
And an anniversary will creep by
in the October mud,
as I lay
the very last, tender rose.
This one is white,
for things forgiven, and cherished,

that will never now

need words.

For you mum...you were always proud of my writing.
Wherever you are, may you finally be free.
With love. xxx

The Moon Embrace

       

I wanted only

to hold you tonight,
to wrap my arms around you,
and just
spend time, to lean your gentle
forehead on mine,
and just to get lost
in your eyes.
It didn’t matter
anymore,
what was honest or lies, if we had
worn an accidentally,
deceitful disguise, before the dark moths
masqueraded as fireflies;
it was all gone now,
and left a channel for thought,

…and suddenly we knew only 

that time
was too short for games,
and for more stupid things;
it became about castles
and the fairies’ wings, that we had borrowed,
and used now, to soar,
the liquid gold, that we learned
how to pour, for one another,
over the pebbles of yesterday,

and all at once it was only about staying

and wishing shooting stars
into open hearts;

touching, we were no longer,

two lunar parts,
but whole, like a harvest moon,

creating the most perfect,

shining sphere;
your arms around me,
my arms around you.
   

 

Manifesto - My Pledge to Stay a Dreamer

Based on something I wrote for a five minute writing exercise at a Leeds Savage Club Writers' Meet. We were asked to write a personal manifesto...this was largely what I wrote. Someone said it was good, so I thought I'd polish it a little, and pop it on the blog:   
     

I used to make plans once, I’m sure, but you learn as life teaches, that they are relatively pointless. Life plans…I’m going to do it this way, in this order…only leads to disappointments. It just doesn’t work like that.
    
So, I've learned to dream instead. If you dream, there is only ever joy, when your dreams come true. You don’t expect, you only hope. And hope is the nicest of things. 
    
I dream a lot now. Big. Small. It doesn’t really matter, as long as they’re there. 
    
I won’t say what I would do if I had the power to change things, because we all do, every day. Small ways. 
     
My work is not about the thousand I couldn’t ‘save’, it’s about the one where I made a difference. Every thirteen-hour day, every 110%, is all and only, about that one.
     
Success is not measured by lamenting my failures; by the money I thought I would earn by now, or the things I imagined I’d have. Success is not things and more stuff, it is just a feeling. It is happiness. So, instead, it is quantified by my achievements, and the things I have learned from my mistakes. And the smiles in my heart.
     
People, are not about the time someone let you down, but about the hundreds of times someone was unconditionally there. People are all about love. And love is difficult sometimes, different every time.
     
Friendship is not about who calls whom most often, but more about understanding, escape, and the scarcity of precious time.
     
Family, does not always mean blood, just the ones where you know you belong. 
    
And love is not in spite, but because, of the beautiful humanity of flaws. It is not what you can gain from anyone, but what you can selflessly give, because somehow...you just can’t help but want to keep giving. About loving everything about someone, because it isn't perfect.

The desire to tell someone they are precious to you, is so much bigger than any bashfulness or pride.
      
Every once in a while, something happens to remind you, that all of this is true. Life is not targets, and numbers, and boxes you can tick - Do I earn...? Do I have...? Should I be...?Would my parents, friends, anyone approve...? No amount of that is a successful life. Life is dreams of where you might be going, and all the joys and lessons of getting there, the most imperfect of ways. 
     
I used to make plans once, I’m sure. But not anymore. 

Life teaches, there are no straight lines.  
And so now, I pledge to stay a dreamer instead.
   

Stop the World

    

Stop the world,

lie down and be still,
let me break wide open
that iron will
that would keep us
so cold and afraid, let me watch
the moon rising
over where you lay,
close your eyes and search
in silence
for lips, and I will stroke
your spine
with my finger tips,
counting the notches
and the beauty divine,
driving the pleasure
as it ebbs and
climbs to crescendo,
like the music of
time, crashing like symbols
and swaddling
like vines entwining and holding
old wood, let all heaven
and the angels come,
until I am blind
and deaf
and dumb,
and we each can shatter,
in rapture,
like glass,
committing all guise
and pretence
to the past
as we trust
we can fall apart;
all things need
the safety of arms;
turn out the lights
and let’s watch the sparks…
   

stop the world,

we only
see stars when it’s dark.
     

Rain Dancing

    

Shall I take you rain dancing tonight?

Silence loud voices,

so you hear

only mine, stop and be still, so I can tell you

about time, and its passing

in a hazy rush?

Like the tiny, feeble gusts of wind,

unchecked,

that blew the stars away?

See, I learned something many days

ago, through fingers of the summer’s love:

after one

storm is done, comes another

to take its place,

more so if you look

for them and chase all the black clouds

‘til they’ve no place to run…

better then to seek graceful sun,

in every person, and every sweet day;

for time is too short,

for thunder to pass,

without you just dance

in the rain…

…and with arms for shelter,

we’ll laugh so hard,

we won’t hear it anyway.

     

Twilight

More experimenting with the 'castles & flames' theme... 
    

Seek me out in the early light,

press your sleeping softness closer

to mine; Medusa in the cave,

two roving vines, we entwine as though

we were one;

filtered day and fire-bright sun, soak

the castle’s protecting blinds, and no thoughts come

to fill tired minds,

only the gentle,

twilight time, and the whisper

of untroubled breath;

hearts beat calm with tenderness, souls

lie still in immortal congress,

at the very edge of their pretty star-dreams;

and far under the enveloping sheets,

we inhale the last moments
of inertia with greed, where we idly lay,

before the shattering of tranquillity dawns,  

with the madding rush

of day.

...Good Morning... :) 

    

Chores

    

Stop me in the midst of daily life,
turn me and kiss me, 
tongue like a knife of satin,
to stroke my insides, 
peel me like an onion,
leave me no place to hide amongst these pointless,
unimportant chores, 
eat the protests from my mouth against the
living room door, devour me, 
like you can’t get
enough; whisper how 
you’ve ached for my touch,
give me no choice 
but to think
only
of you; cover me and worship
with all that is due to this holy,
and sacred 
state; shackle me with longing
until I can’t walk away, 
lay me down on the sofa and honour me; 
back me up in the corner and smother me
with insatiable greed;
to feel is all 
we should ever need to make this house a home;
for when all is said and done;
my darling, 
this,
is what they mean, 
when they talk 
of domestic bliss. 

   

Pegasus Sunrise

      

I was wide awake this morning; came

to see a sunrise in your shining eyes,

and you and I hacked a trail together,

forgot all worldly pretence

or disguise;

with nothing to hear but the sound

of you; your even breath in the early dew,

we watched the summer come,

and visit for another day;

and I let you choose the way,

at the crossroads, so long

as we could go with haste;

see, I wanted to beat that dawning

haze, to the top,

and watch true splendour,

from the edge

of the valley; I wanted to feel your breath

on my neck and marry

all my thoughts

to this ancient kiss of the breeze,

before any

of the angel-leaves

begin to turn or are tempted to fall.

I wanted us to have it all, just one more time,

to wind my fingers

in your hair and stare out

before the aching sunrise

begins to hide again

in the forever-fog; I wanted

just another

chance to watch,

and feel heat in the rays,

to leave us a memory of our

summer days and all I have seen

with you…

and I listened then

to only your hooves

as I drove you, gently, home;

soon, what of our mornings, Pegasus,

when this late summer is gone?

     

Lullaby in Arms

Close your eyes, and put your arms

around me, I don’t need you to see;

just feel…stop this

ever-spinning wheel

we call life, and walk your mind away,

lie down

in my embrace, and stay,

and let me still you a while, let me kiss

your beautiful smile

until you forget

how the days

can be; and before I rock you

into sleep;

let me show you what the nights are for,

let me break

down all your doors and run my fingers

through your

open soul

and every wanting in you,

this is the moment we can call

pure truth, all other, a violent charade;

in the darkness, crawl,

from the dragon’s cave and leave the amour

of your wars

on the floor;

there is only passion

and grace here,

in the moments

before the acid dawn; peace,

and love-soaked sheets;

we have need of nothing more.

   

Castle

Still playing with 'castles and flames' for Leeds Savage Club writers' task:
  

Shall we build us a castle, to hide within,

and set lions at the gates? To chase all

the monsters away? Shall we lay down

a moat of deepest flames

to keep vampires

and werewolves at bay?

Shall we build our castle of no

bricks or stones,

but of arms and tender looks and

call it ‘home’,

shall we give it a roof

of dreams and wishes,

and build our bedroom of

a thousand kisses and caresses that

still us, and soothe? Shall we give it

windows of transparent truth, and a hearth

so it keeps a warm soul?

Shall we build its kitchen of secrets told,

over dinner,

of the way you smile, and of another

minute (that will make me late)

just spent it your eyes? Shall we

dig a hole in the garden for lies, and

back-fill the mineshafts with foolish

pride, to set

the foundations in trust?

Then, shall we fill our castle with love,

with music and laughter and the same

healing touch

to seek,

every evening when we draw up the bridge?

Shall we build our castle with all of these things,

so it can withstand any storm?

Shall we throw off care, and paint its walls

all the colours of joy that we please? With turrets of

blue and flags of cerise, and surrounded

by a sunset hue,

it may be 
the strangest castle that ever was,

but we built it;

me

and you.    

Indulgence

     

Drop to your knees, let me hold you like glass,

with grace, you and I, can worship and gasp

down throats,

all the ways we would honour one another,

stroke me like silk and we will guard and cover

all these tender plans we have made,

dip in hot liquids with burnt tongues and taste,

all the things tomorrow can hold,

lie down in sugar, and syrup, and

roll until nothing but sweetness prevails;

tell no lies and tell no tales, keep no secrets to set in

and rot, make yourself more

than naked,

give me now all you have got, lest I really

know who you are,

point to each graze and every beautiful

scar and I will show you what splendour is there,

tear lumps

from the insides of me,

just tease…and wildly explore,

tell me all things you have ever thought,

or dreamed of, open all your doors,

let me make you blind and come in,

and you and I can touch every sin until

we shatter

like splintered ice;

we exist

only for nights, where we scratch,

and scream, and wholly bless,

sacred touch, and ties, and

tender caress beneath moonshine

and the anguish of restrained wolves,

knowing we can bring the world down around us,

if we only let go; 
tell all;

be free,

and indulge.