Simple steps what pleasant actions were made,
Little by little is the smile he laid,
Another man, a lady he promised,
What a day, just after work and hesitates,
Those simple acts so present so bare,
It’s only just that he treats her fair,
Shun not I, seek not advice how solemn,
Breathes deep too deep ere the heart the sun beats,
The feel that crawls through the soul ere it heats,
Given the cocoons locked within are slowly hatched,
Surely give butterflies to hatch once more,
Though no choice made, but sits so patient,
Like the long wait to be seen by her Love,
So sits and calls the Matchmaker to run,
Thus there was a subtle memory once she had,
All was once as it was and so shall be again,
This obituary to the past can not survive,
Tears would run down her face and she’d cry,
Risks taken and still she sits so silent,
Only a phone can keep her company in harm’s way,
No message could be sent to Whom she loves,
She’s still waiting but could not dare scream, but
Never weeps and so distance grown is love grown,
This mind so scrambled and boiling down to blood,
A figure that runs through hail and rain is same,
Tests her wait and every step and familiar scent,
Is but the same that gives her what she is,
Though emotions thrown is simple act none unmade,
Shall never cast herself away lest fade.

Skating on the Moon

Somehow in one way or another they landed,
Was but no question to ask lest they banded,
A soothing sound there was none on Earth,
Not even in during the first hour of birth,
A smell of roses that covered them both,
Drop of water through the planes is love,
The circumference of the two was nigh,
The area divided between the two was pi,
This figure so dark, so silent yearned to dance,
I will dance with her; I will reveal my stance,
There’s a slide that gives me leave to destroy,
She evades and seeks my resolve as a boy, Read More

Cries of a Banshee

Lest her gaze gone made more for fire,
Her eyes glowing before the bitter sea,
The angst felt can be felt all around,
An entire Earth that shatters before her,
Anger so fast, so intense could never fall,
All fairness lost and all virtue a history,
Across the sea a banshee stood at watch.

And in the night she walks along the coast,
And as moon her witness can only hide,
Whose once pale skin now would rot so slow,
An entire foundation of her grew and spored,
Fallen was her resolve to reason and seek,
Nor sought, nor fought, but now she resolves:
Haunting, she’s the banshee from the dark.

Read More

Behind the Mirror

Or was it a dream that never fought,
Or better yet this image she sought,
A beauty that cast herself into awe,
A longing for eyes transfixed she bore,
Glittered by single light phone emitted,
The girl in the mirror he fitted,
There was a girl walking away from here,
But my girl is not who she ought to fear,
Am not no monster that would break her,
Rather the destruction that bade me fair,
I’d rather walk round the mirror than through,
Would rather my love appear before I do, Read More

At the airport

A beating sun once rose but would hardly set,
Her time was sounding, the car could only sail,
This heart that marches through the way,
Never back but soon the two they were and back,
Whose heart he can never break and never sour,
Whose glowing eyes that reaped in tears a sea,
The slowing heart that beats the rest comes tide,
For within a fortnight as much a blooming flower,
This slow stem held heart by wreathes fragile,
That hue which we call love once foretold,
With every step to the gateway another bled,
For sighs alone can never conjure the broken weep,
Though silent but heavy a beat so echoes aloud,
How speedy the hours fall as much theirs grow, Read More

A little song

But pity is I who cannot sing,
Can only do depth alack my feel,
Is but the softening my voice said,
Is but a soothing dare to sing,
How shall I if not for words to say?
I would learn but my heart in angst,
Surely I am sighing my words in water,
There’s brew to be had; tis only hot,
Give me the rhyme to sing my days by,
My nights troublesome; my days gone,
I’ll wander through the dark whistling,
There’s but a whistle in my thinking,
There’s but a thought to sing daily,
My dear, whose voice only cracks at mine,
Is no voice more soothing than thine heard,
Ne not she sing for how her eyes wander,
No need but I am gazing at ye my wish content,
No need for songs for only actions wrought,
But words, only words is me to contend.

No bass to play

And then he’s in the room darkest and touched,
No song to squeeze, no rhyme to please,
As happened was the story mighty a man he launched,
Was there a splendid creation than the love between,
So sombre yet so sweet only for heaven to envy,
A blisséd sky, a beautiful sky, red and the moon narrow,
The gustle of that wind drew away. He thought loud and knew himself well.
Then awoke to find no melody to hear, no string to tune,
There was no bass to play down here,
A world up there, more tunes aloud,
Give me peace and I’ll give only love.