love

Inspirational Choices

Euphoria inspires –
with quills of flyers.
Flourishes unite,
consumed we write.

Paid is the price,
life owed thrice.
Costly is consummation;
self, others or inspiration.

Haunted by desire,
time’s no higher.
Wedges divide,
in space we hide.

Sharing time, hearts and minds,
rightly seen writing blinds.
Is balance a lever to be had,
none ever being sad?

Parts whole, time’s inspired,
forwards given give required.
Love conjures unknowns within,
any choice a choice to begin.

~*~
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Well, Almost

We live on a sphere, well almost,
surrounded by air, they the host.
Warmed by a star, pulled by a moon.
We’ve day and night, both come too soon.
~
We’ve loads of life but most unseen,
covered in rock, water and green.
There’s lots of smells, feelings and sounds.
We’ve love and laughter, yet danger surrounds.
~
Failures abound, they’re always free.
We’re fully exposed to freely see.
We can be tasteful, and risk being eaten.
We can be colorful but risk a bad beaten.
~
Lie, cheat and steal and then freely boast.
We’ve the freedom to choose, well almost.
We’ve still time to finish what we start.
Well, almost there; war or art?
~*~
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A Village Uncommon

~*~

Birds are first to welcome the day.
Second’s the stable boy, warm in his hay,
next the rooster with a cockle-doodle–do.
The sun then knows it’s time to shine through.

The day’s now begun on this little village farm,
sounds are awakened, no need for alarm.
Chores are done first before breakfast’s had.
The boy gets scraps for which he’s glad.

He then fetches water to fill troughs high,
looking down he reflects on the sky.
The birds passing by all wave hello.
The boy too would like somewhere to go.

His only companions where pigs in the barn,
a colt in the stall and a blanket of yarn.
The pigs are noisy but warm at night.
The colt’s always worried something’s not right.

The boy and the colt are both small for their age.
The colt’s awkward stance was more prone for a stage.
The boy’s body covered in hair but none on his head.
His face more pale than a ghost long dead.

He was missing teeth, what’s left are brown.
When out to run errands he’d limp back from town.
He was bullied by piers, pitied by the rest,
that’s why the barn is where he liked best.

The barn’s on a farm the boy’s aunt owned.
The pigs are theirs but the rest boarded or loaned.
The crops all prospered by the boy’s hard work,
though all profits were spent on his cousin the jerk.

The jerk had a sister the boy thought faire,
as did all the mirrors where she did stare.
The boy’s aunt was mean and her husband’s a brute.
They all wore frowns but the dog was cute.

On the boy’s return to the barn for the night,
he was much surprised by a most curious sight.
Pigs were in a circle the colt standing tall.
The hens in the middle said nothing at all.

The lonely stable boy was their only concern.
So a plan was hatched for the love he earned.
The colt too had thoughts in his growing mind.
There’s something, somewhere he needs to find.

Then suddenly a change right before their eyes.
Within the hour the colt doubled in size.
The bumps on his shoulders grew larger too
As did his hooves, now too big for their shoe.

The discussion’s now over and all agreed.
The boy and the colt should both be freed.
Some details whispered and the time was set,
for a barnyard adventure to never forget.

The boy donned his blanket like superman’s cape,
then mounted the colt for their great escape.
First are hugs all around before they depart.
Then the barn doors cracked for the plan to start.

The hens muffled the rooster so time was bought.
The sheep flocked to the door as they were taught.
The ducks then quacked to cause a commotion.
And the brute awakened without a clue or a notion.

Pigs started oinking and the cows crashed the gate.
The little dog barked but it was too late.
The boy and colt ran fast past the posts,
waving goodbye to their ungracious hosts.

A tear was shed for the friends left behind.
But his blanket’s aroma would always remind.
The pair dashed down the lane by the hedge-row.
Then flew over the hills where the uncommon go.

In search of a world thought fantasy.
A place imagined by you and me.
A place where all’s different and the same,
where none is wrong or to blame.

This place called fantasy’s not make-believe.
It’s a place that’s real we feel and perceive.
As the pair now see how much they’ve grown.
They come into view of a sight unknown.

Not commonly known this uncommon sight,
there welcomed warmly in the setting sunlight.
The Uncommons filled their common and a party had.
There all are different and all are glad.

A one-legged sprinter hopped by to say hi,
as did the unicorn and an eagle with one eye.
A lady strolled over who walked on her hands.
Her arms so long they dragged in the sands.

Her daughter followed and sparks then flew.
The boy didn’t know that there could be two.
His Pegasus introduced with shakes all around.
Their hands all touching made a warm clapping sound.

Hugs soon followed and a tasty dinner had.
The boy almost forgot he was ever sad.
He cuddled a tiny kitten that roars really loud.
And played with two-legged puppies that only bowed.

There are two-headed snakes and a toothless beaver,
also the tail-less mouse from his aunt’s cleaver.
Here everyone’s loved and their love they share,
who wouldn’t love a giant dancing bear.

These commons are full of Uncommons galore.
Though anyone’s welcome, there’s room for more.
The boy’s party ran late and he rose with the sun.
Then all’s back to normal in a village uncommon.

~*~

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Kitty Cat Chat

My little kitty talks to me.
She changes the channel on my TV.
And shows me things I don’t see.
But I never argue, I just agree.
~
Her day begins before sunrise.
I see her starring in my eyes.
Her only word is no surprise.
Up! Up! Up! She loudly cries.
~
To the kitchen we’ll both head.
She’s always happiest when she’s fed.
I’ll fill her bowl then back to bed.
Her heartfelt “Thanks” is always said.
~
My alarm goes off at seven or eight.
My kitty tells me if I’m early or late.
Either way we’re feeling great.
High-fives and head bumps we celebrate.
~
Then off to school but she’s alone.
She says goodbye with a sad little moan.
Someday she’ll learn to use a phone.
But for now that skill’s unknown.
~
I’m welcomed home, I see she’s played.
I clean up all the mess she’s made.
She’s fed again and smiles we trade.
We’ll say goodnight then off we fade.

~*~
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Magic Carpet

~

Full moon’s high in my window pane,

a sleepless night yet again.

I think of what that old moon’s seen,

and the billions of days in-between.

.

Billions of stories it could share.

But few like grandma’s can compare.

Her life began long, long ago.

Raised in places few ever know.

.

In forests, jungles and never-ending plains,

there were exotic cities and quiet country lanes.

Naturalist nurtured traversing the globe,

her parents explorers and professors in robes.

.

She too attended their university,

majoring, of course, in anthropology.

She graduated at the very top of her class.

Then returning to a high mountain pass.

.

A place where dear friends made, one nevermore,

new will be made though not as before.

For the sisterly love they both did share,

her dowry passed from generations with care.

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Their rug was presented for the mutual esteem,

more cherished than a simple weaving would  seem.

With sheep twists dyed and hands knotting all day,

life’s artful history’s made to give, barter or pray.

.

That winter spent mourning by choice and terrain.

Gram then ventured east with the new spring rain.

Her path soon ended on a long Pacific beach,

her life of the past now far out of reach.

.

She then called upon as never before.

She volunteered proudly as a nurse in the war.

Through years of blood, pain and tears she served,

refusing all the medals and honors deserved.

.

Though her true love was found slumped on a cot,

they soon returned home, where time was forgot.

Gramps got better and a new family sown.

their many shared scars were never to be shown.

.

Her old rug was placed by hearth and chest,

each full of stories though not all are best.

It’s a place we’d sit to hear grandma recall,

sometimes a place to do nothing at all.

.

So I tip-toed downstairs since sleep no option,

I’ll rest on that rug where dreams are begun.

It’s where secrets are shared and magic seen,

then a place for relaxing time in-between.

.

Once sewn as a bag keeping safe, precious things.

It’s been many a blanket with a picnic to bring.

It’s been a shawl in the cold and hood in the rain –

and a comfy pillow on the overnight train.

.

Adventures had in time that’s flown,

together worn from long years grown.

This rug’s grandma’s confidant and oldest friend,

soaring together their wove lives transcend.

.

Though colors now faded, ends torn and frayed,

beauty more timeless cannot be remade.

And when the winds do bellow just right,

we’re drawn up the flue and into the night.

.

Holding fast and climbing high,

we touched the stars in our moonlit sky.

We’d see twinkling lights in our town below,

then off to the hills where roads don’t go.

.

Over the wood, back to the place we all live,

where the door’s always open and love’s to give.

There blissful slumbers had snug as a bug,

whilst wrapped with a hug in grandmas old rug.

.

~*~

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Heartache, Headache, Backache and Optimism

I need to write something to cheer me up,
maybe a fairy tale, a trip or new pup.
But no love stories, not any more.
I failed at that before.
~
Now something brighter, no emotion at all.
I won’t have to see it if I write really small.
Perhaps of worlds unknown, can’t be wrong,
something airy and mellow maybe a song.
~
I’ll write of the stars and space beyond,
or of rippled reflections of ducks on a pond.
Or I won’t write at all, I’ll learn the fiddle!
Nah, I’m just kidding and cheered up a little.

~*~
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Trippin

Plans have been made
and the weekend’s here.
An adventure will be had
but apart from my dear.
~
I’ll think of her while driving
and call at every chance.
I’ll dream of her when sleeping,
cuddled in romance.
~
I’ll spend my time distracted,
longing to return.
I’ll share my day with loved ones
but not the one I yearn.
~
Whilst my head will follow
wherever I may roam,
my heart will always be
at our happy home.

~*~
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Transcendental Jubilation

bubbles

Weekend’s wonderful when with you.
Our day now beckons with much to do.
First a tasty lunch and a little walk,
holding hands we’ll laugh and talk.

Then off to party in the mystical wood.
Where children will frolic and all is good.
We’ll share a sunset and see a show.
We’ll sing along to songs we both know.

Home again, the hour’s now late.
We’ll snuggle a bit and plan our next date.
Though days or nights jubilant whatever we do.
The time transcends when alone with you.

~*~
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Write On Time

The colors of morning fill sleepy eyes.
A blank page awaits today’s sunrise.
Dreams are fading with a new day’s start.
Reality awakens with love in my heart.

Thoughts of you fill my scrambled mind.
Words are brewing but they’re yet to find.
Passion’s tricky to express in rhyme.
Though volumes written for you in time.

~*~
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Step by Step

Each step a step for us to rise,
to see our peaks we are wise.
To trip and fall’s our shared fate.
To try again is to never wait.
To lend a hand or push and take,
the view’s the choice for us to make.
The time we spend returned in kind.
The love we give gives peace of mind.
The love we’re given’s without whys,
each step a step we did rise.

~*~
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Life’s a Beach

Simple words writ in sand

Sculpted with a simple hand

Words of meaning I can’t hide

Yet disappear in the changing tide

 ~

Time takes all that we need

Gives anew to thus be freed

And toil we must to hold our ground

While standing straight on a world that’s round

 ~

By day, by night we return to see

Miles for shore await you and me

We’ll mold our lives in these sands

We’ll rewrite “I love you”, holding hands

 ~*~

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Stuck

My poem starts today at its sticky end.
It began with a letter that I didn’t send.
I penned my emotions, sealed it with a kiss.
I hoped when she read it she’d too feel bliss.
~
I couldn’t buy a stamp so I threw it all away.
True love would be found, just not today.
Many years now past, stamps still make me sad.
I was one lick away from never feeling bad.
~
Life teaches lessons, some are hard to learn.
So don’t let hesitation steal what you yearn.
Take the final step, finish what you’ve started.
A tiny bit of glue could fix the broken hearted.

~*~
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The Declaration of No Hindrance

This holiday has begun;
later on we’ll have some fun.
The ice is broken, the heat’s returned.
Now the fireworks we’ve long yearned.
~
A sunset shared on the beach,
loving arms now in reach.
Colors burst in the skies,
starlight sparkles in your eyes.
~
Booms and bangs heard all around.
Lips will meet without a sound.
The future’s now, we’re on our way,
happy Independence Day.

~*~
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Believe It Why Not

I have a plan to save mankind.
I’ve just a few things left to find.
First is a place we all can hide.
It’ll need big windows to feel outside.
~
Next is food, but we can’t be too picky,
just nothing too spicy, gooey or sticky.
There’s coffee, for sure with sugar and cream,
then a really big bed for all to dream.
~
We’ll need some music so bring guitars.
Smoking’s optional but no cigars.
There’s no heavy drinking or hard drugs.
No need for violence or unruly thugs.
~
There will be no jail or a court.
So bring no weapons of any sort.
We’ll all need to promise to get along.
It sounds pretty easy, what can go wrong.
~
You’ll never find a happier place.
It’ll fill up fast so reserve your space.
Now one last thing before I take leave;
it’s best not come if you can’t believe.

~*~
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