Sunday, 18 November 2012

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
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'...

Saturday, 17 November 2012



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;
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.

Friday, 16 November 2012

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,
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
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.
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,
All pleasure in giving feels eternally right,
and I am
where in truth,
I want to be, eyes wide shut,
I taste you again...
and in ghost-arms, give in to my dream.