a Lady at psychological
treatment center.
she tells the therapist her story.
she says she's being abducted
by aliens every night
they take her to their ship
and she is used for
****** experimentation
to prepare for an invasion of earth.
the therapist holds her hand
and says never mind dear
I will help you get rid of them
forever in just a short while.
she shouted NO! in dismay.
Can you ask them to come
just once a week
she said sweetly.

When the loss falls
upon you like the darkness.
And in your heart
it seems irrecoverable
and all is forever lost.

Then remember this.
Even when the mighty stars
supernova in cataclysmic
exploding destruction..
Their energy
cannot be destroyed
but will only change state.
As it joins the expanding
universe.
To become a part
of something more
beautiful.

The day the music died.

We were all seventeen or eighteen.
The jungles of Nam were waiting
like dark visions in nightmare.
You get to be close as soldiers
more than brothers
more than wives.
The clearing was pretty
the feeling of an opening
in the dark trees
of the  jungle was a relief.
Then the light faded
eaten by some monster.
The flowers of our youth ended
in only a few minutes.
The tracer bullets lined
all the way to thier targets.
The petals of our childhood
fell like snow.
The imprints
of the carnage were
indelible tattoos
on our memories.
Out ofsixty boys
only five of us got out.
the dreams of my life
we're tainted red
from that day.
I visited the clearing
a few years ago.
wartime enemies
turn into just people
when the blood is dried
and flowers grow on
old battlefields.
I knelt down and
said a prayer.
Not to an uncaring God
but to my friends
who lost their youth
and futures in this jungle.
For whom weeping tears
was  just not enough.

She was way too tough for me.
no it's more I was not hard enough for her.
The old ***** brick houses
of Englands industrial north
caught between industrial revolution
and social unrest .
I was just a youth back then.
The big war fading from memory.
I stopped at my friend's back yard
it was a hot summer back then.
His souped up bike was gleaming
like a prize racehorse.
She pulled a flask of *****
and took a long pull
her bright red hair
like glowing coal
her eyes as black as darkness
she was hard pretty.
Her mini skirt flashing
her shaply legs.
a stray dog big and hard
just like her.
jumped up and licked her face.
she Laughed
they were like two
kindred spirits
like sisters by nature
wild and drifting and free.
She had *** with me
the first time I met her
and told me I was not
rough enough for her.
I just was a bit scared
of telling her
I wanted out of it.
The kick-started bike roared
like the steel lion it was.
She squealed in delight.
then the stray dog peed
on the concrete.
she lifted her skirts
like the hard ***** she was
and peed next to it.
she jumped on the back
of his bike and they
went off at full speed.
To test his bike out
at the racetrack.
I hear they shacked up together.
and we're very happy.
I dated a nerdy young woman
quiet and conservative
who became a librarian.
We got married
four years later.
had two kids
and a housetrained dog.
She never once told me
I was not rough enough in bed.

The cacophony of the factory
had left him deaf.
So many years
doing his routine
assembly that he hated.
Right up to the instant his heart
stopped and the tool
fell from his hand.
The heart that had yearned
for music and art.
Of a Paris bistro
with a small studio
lit with cool northern light.
A Paris springtime with
beautiful **** lady models
on his sofa.
As his brush
created her on his canvas.
This was his last thought
as the tool
rolled to a halt on the
concrete floor.

sometimes.
I feel I lost in us.
That we share
one heart.
one pair of lungs.
And when I think
i know you can hear it.
Shouldn't we be more
of ourselves
less dependant.
perhaps not as
intrusively linked?
But even knowing this
I cannot change it
because I do not
know anymore.
where I end
and you begin.

I am your tree.
I will bloom only for you.
Just a touch of your lips and
I unfurl my buds in springtime.
Opening them into fresh
green leaves.
You touch my leaves
and my blossoms proliferate
all their fragrant beauty for you.
Then you leave me
my blossoms cascade
in the air like feathers
of gentle down.
Lost in the breezes of summer.
Then you return to me.
And I pour down my abundance
of sweet fruits for you
to savour.
Then all that is left
is my dark green tired leaves.
You come back to me
and touch me with your
fingers
I turn my leaves
gold and amber and red
a final display of my love.
But they fall to the ground
and I have nothing else
left to give you.
And I know you will
leave me once more.
Before the snows come

I miss that certain spring.
The one where the blossoms
released their sweet fragrance.
As she kissed my lips
in the perfumed air.
The one where olive green leaves
Unfurled from buds and perfectly
became the color of her eyes.
The one where the sun
melted the winter’s cold.
And she lay warm and safe in my arms.
The one where her fingertips
traced forever’s
along my naked skin.
The one where forever’s melted
with the last of the north facing snow.
Do I miss that spring?
Or do I miss her?
I know I miss her
But only in that certain spring.
But I should never dream of springtime’s
for that would surely
break my heart in two.

Grandpa

*Grandpa is in his
Second year of dementia
He has not recognized Grandma
for over a year.
but in the summer
for the past three months
he has come in from the garden
holding a small bouquet of flowers
cut from the flower beds he loved.
He falls on one knee
before grandma and says softly
you are the most beautiful
woman I have ever seen
please run away with me
and become my wife.
she touches his silvered hair
softly and whispers
I am your wife honey.
It's a delight to see his
old lost face light up
as the biggest smile
covers it.

I know you are trying to forget me
and all the things you did with me
are to be banished from your universe.
Even the soft touching of our skin
is allowed no memory.
Yet you must know this
you may say you no longer love me.
you can cut me out of photos
you can even pretend
I don't exist.
But we had love once
it grew in our hearts
like a morning glory
in the sunlight.
And love is indelible
it prints below the surface
of our skin like tattoos.
And when you least expect it
you shall look into the mirror
of you soul and see the reflection
of our love and it will take away
your breath as it's loss
will return as painfully
as the moment
when it happened.

The forever kind of beautiful
by
Jude Kyrie

*I fell in love with her beauty
it snapped on my heart
like a bear trap
impossible to escape from.
she was not just beautiful
like a model smiling in a magazine
she had a beautiful mind
she radiated beauty to all she loved
from a sun deep inside her soul.
even in her sadness we all turned
to her beautiful warmth like flowers
to the light.
her beauty did not come only
from her lovely looks
or any other temporary source.
it was ingrained on her soul
she is beautiful in a way
that makes beauty immortal.

Carousel
by
jude Kyrie

*All my life I rode the painted pony.
Round and round and up and down
No matter how I begged to get off
It went round and round and round
To the laughing hurdy gurdy sound
One day my frozen heart will stop
And they will put me in the ground.

She drained my love like a spider.
She released me from my sins.
She said I spin my web forever.
Not knowing where it ends
or where it begins.

I walked past the church Mama.
She looked so beautiful
all in white her flowers
were white gardenias.
.She looked like an angel.
I suffocated in sadness Mama
it came back to me
like a ghost in my chest.
I thought the sadness was gone.
from so long ago.
When I saw him kiss her
I felt her fingertips fall from my hand.
And I walked into the Blues Mama
She looked so happy
the warmth from their love
dried up my tears in its heat.
She has taken all my happiness
too Mama.
All the happiness
I will ever know
and has given it to him.

I remember that poem.
it was so very long ago
I think this misty rain
brought its memory back.
I was walking
in the olive greens of the park
then a beautiful poem
fell from the clouds.
The most beautiful poem

I search the park this night
I call out his name softly
Poem Poem
Come back to me.
Then my poem appears
still beautiful.
still with soft spoken words.
So tender this poem.
The poem asked me to take
It back to my fireside
Where it unfastened my blouse
Whispering its soft hypnotic rhymes.
Words I had not heard since forever.

Then from outside the window
I saw the poem making love to me.
So tender and beautiful.

When he had finished
reciting its love poem.
We lay by the firelight
drinking wine
and spoke
of commitment.
A house full of forever's.
Homes and children
and other untruths.

Jude's rant…. Why sitcoms have ruined our lives.

I am really expletive mad at the networks
all they dish out night after night
is ****** sitcoms that stink worse
than a blocked toilet in an Irish bar
on a Sunday morning.

Have you seen what it takes
to make a twelve season hit sitcom.?
I have spent five minutes writing one.

here it is.
it's called

My husband's a total ******.

Characters
Soulful Simon the husband and father.
he is a cat whipped half excuse of a man
whose job it is to always be ******* up
and to submissively take perma **** from his
****** preachy wife.
Donna

His overbearing wife
who makes a full time career  position
staying at home doing absolutely nothing.
Except over managing her two bratty kids
and think up reasons
to cut down on soulful Simon's
meagre *** diet
which consist of  
Saturday night mercy ***.

Donna is also the disciplinarian handing out
punishments to the bratty kids.
like no iPad for twenty minutes
for calling soulful Simon a worthless ****.

This is the main lesson of the show
but I find it a confusing message
Of
if you tell the ****** truth
you lose your iPad for twenty minutes.

Important character traits in show.

father
A total buffoon and useless idiot
that has no say or power in the house.
in days of yore he would wear Harlequin
suit and have a bell on his cap.

Mother
a nasty passive aggressive *****.
who controls most the money
and all the ***.
She must be smart and always right.
She was only wrong once
that was when she was right
and thought she was wrong.

Children
must act like know it all adults
god knows no one else does.

important notes
the laugh machine
must be packed with
Energizer batteries.
if they fail
then the viewers at home
will find out
no one else is laughing either.

Authors note
This carefully scripted
hit plot for sitcom
copyrighted by Jude Kyrie.

I do not want
to see this on the network
without my
One million Dollar  
per episode stipend.

cc my lawyers
Dewey Screwem and Howe

Take Me Back

Do you remember
when we were teens Darlin.
Call a strong sea wind
to blow away the foggy hazy years.
I see us now clearly it’s us my love.
We are lay beneath the oak tree in the park.
That summer day when school had finished.
We are drinking cheap wine
right from the green bottle.
I am rolling a joint.
We get high and a little drunk
I unfasten your shirt
you kiss me deeply.
Wow I can still feel your heat.
You tell me I am beautiful
I say beautiful is for women.
We had *** in the wild outdoors
even in the earshot of home.
We were not friends back then
only lovers if you call lust love.
Look at us now we are all grown up
Our three children asleep in their beds
The nice house and cars.
You with your conservative
dress for success suit
the complete modern mom.
I am sat reading gardens monthly.
Do you remember when it happened?
getting grown up like this.
God darling
I would give it all up
for one crazy day when we were young.
your bra and ******* on the floor next the bed.
The faint smell of our burning joint
in an ashtray next to the bed.
And us on it
like the two wild animals we once were

Don't love the
first one that you kiss.
or the second.
or the third.
Be patient
wait for the one
who can't kiss you
because they are
smiling too much
with happiness.
yeah for sure
wait for that.

I know you hate love poems
roses  and greetings cards
do nothing for you.
perhaps you are too grounded
to the roots of Terra firma.
but I have to tell you
in words that are not poetic
how the sight of you just
sipping a cup of tea
in a China cup.
fills me with wanton
feelings of desire for you.

I was born in the waves of music
so long ago now
when the music was faint.
barely audible almost silent.
I was a accident a beautiful one
but still an accident.
She was a concert pianist
he was a guitar player in a rock band.
they should have hated each other
but that's where I came in
they didn't.
her father was a control freak
all he could see was her career.
after my parents met
it was something at first sight.
They slept together
on a bench on a new York rooftop.
I guess you could say
that's where I came in.
Her father took her away
to her recital in California.
she did not even know his name.
but I found out later
she never married
nor did he.
When Mom found she was pregnant
her father said it must be adopted.
I became an it instead the baby
or my grandson or even the boy.
Mom had an accident
after the news she was
to put me up for adoption.
She ran into the street
and a bike courier hit her hard.
I was born
but her father
I still cannot call him gandfather.
forged her name on adoption papers.
when she woke up in hospital
he said the baby was lost.
that I did not make it.
I was put into the orphanage.
I never got adopted
I guess I was bit weird.
I listened to music everywhere
in the grass the street the wind.
and I knew somehow
She was out there.
I could feel it.
I became a musical prodigy at seven
I could write music without lessons.
I could play any instrument
you threw at me.
the nuns at the orphanage
sent me to juliard.
I was their youngest student at nine.
Then her father confessed
what he had done on his deathbed.
Mom searched and searched
until she released the adoption papers
with the forged signature.
she saw my photo for the first time.
she said that's him.
at juliard I wrote a symphony.
it was put forward to play
in central park for best new composers.
The moon played
its music loud that night
The park was full
and she was playing
the concert piano.
when my music played
it awakened in her heart
I could see her feeling it
she felt me.
She felt my music.
She felt her son.
The concert finished
they called me to the stage
to take a bow.
but she came to me
in her beautiful gown.
she was so pretty.
she held me in her arms
I felt for the first time
the softness of my mother.
her eye makeup
was running down
her beautiful face.
is it ..is it you she asked.
I kissed her cheek
and whispered yes mom.
thank you for the music.

Why are your Poems So Dark Jude?

It’s not just my poems dear reader.
Everything has darkness.
The moon has a dark side.
That is hidden from view.
When the maker cried
Let there be light.
He left the darkness of night.
Even the purity of the poets
crisp white  page
Is nothing
without the spilt black letters
of his heart.
I think you may have wished
to ask of me
Are you so sad Jude.
I answer quietly.
I am like the moon
My darkness is not in view.

I know now.
Why did no one ever tell me?
When I was a little boy.
That girls with china blue eyes
and long dark eyelashes.
That smell of Gardenias
taste like summer rain.
With softness of down feathers.
And whisper words like secrets.
Are the reasons
my pillow is wet.
and my poems weep.

As the night blooms
into starlight and moonbeams.
I feel you fold into a ball behind me.
The darkness falls into shadows.
Reflecting on the white sheets of our bed.
And I feel your silent tears.
They fall like raindrops
If it was sunlight you would
arc a rainbow with their flow.
But it would not be for me.
The music playing in your heart
Is orchestrated for him not me.
I feel the palpable sadness of you
And I know in quiet resignation
That you must leave me
because.....
I can never be him.

Fathers and Daughters

Fathers And Daughters
A Story Poem
By Jude Kyrie

My tiny flat is old and dark.
All I got in the split
looks out of place.
She took most everything.
I do not care she can have it.

The only thing I wanted from her
was her love and my daughter.
She has taken both of these things
to another man’s house now.

She drops my teenage daughter off .
for my weekend.
She looks reluctant,
giving me her disinterested look.
but realizes she will have to stay.

My wife looks well and very beautiful
I close my eyes for a moment.
Remembering her long hair
falling on my bare chest
in our bed as we made love.
She turns and leaves
I notice her shapely legs so ****.
I want to say Honey please don’t go.
But bite my lip.

My daughter has a new
tattoo on her shoulder.
And wears Goth like makeup.
My God! What’s happening?
I am cringing
at the miserable time ahead.

Teenagers don't care about anything.
I don’t think we have anything
left in common anymore.
She ate nothing at supper

I go to bed early.
She hears me weeping softly
in the dark.
She comes into my room.
Saying nothing.
She cradled my head
to her small breast.
And kissed my forehead gently.

Then softly she whispered
"Its ok dad,
you are going to be just fine
You have me.
and I will always love you"
That was the moment when
my heart stopped breaking.

Rome was bustling that year
tourist and locals filling the old city.
She was excited four weeks to tour
Italy it was high on her bucket list.
the fight from Kennedy
was Nine hours but she was here now.
Her divorce was final
the assets split and
she was forty and free.
it had been a hard year
but it was over
she was ready to enjoy
the eternal city.

The little cellar restaurant
was perfect it was nine PM
Romans eat late
and when in Rome right.

waiting at the bar sat on a high stool
she slipped on a glass of Chianti.
she noticed an attractive man
he was alone and giving her the
once over. she still had it she thought.
but not for anything serious

her *** addicted ex had burned her badly.
it turned out he had ******* half the neighbors
and most of her friends.
no she was burned.
but a little holiday fling
well that could be appropriate.

she flashed him her prettiest smile
he took the bait and walked over to her.
hi he said
mind if I join you.
she smiled again
only if you don't get the wrong idea.

he was English his lovely soft accent
was pleasant to her new York ears.
definitely not pushy very gentle
and respectful. she found herself
liking him.

it turns out he was a schoolteacher
near London in a small village.
he was touring Italy on his summer vacation.
she told him of her divorce and the hard breakup.
a tear formed in her eyes as she unloaded.
he offered her a crisp white handkerchief.
who on God's green earth carried a handkerchief
any mora
. He laughed and said my mother
makes me carry one she says you never know
when you may see a lady crying
and a gentleman
should always be prepared.
I liked his mother already.

he said he was Twenty eight
a bit young for me.
but what the heck.
I lied and said thirty four.

he was so gentle so nice
I was getting way too attracted to him.
his lovely eyes grey as steel
and his soft voive. Oh My!

He told me he was single
his girl friend had got tired
of waiting for him to pop the question
and moved on.
I don't know why but I was happy
to hear of his breakup.

he said he loved my American accent.
I couldn't believe it he liked
my new York voice.

it was midnight
I wanted to stay but the bar closed.
I thought I can't let him go
he seemed shy to ask me.
But said look why don't I walk
you back to your hotel.
I agreed a bit too quickly.
he escorted me to the old fashioned
elevator in my hotel

And he kissed me goodnight.
he turned to leave me
but I held onto his hand
he looked up into my eyes.
and I led him into the elevator
and up to my room?

that was were I should have
let it go but he made love to me
gently like a new bride.
I wept in happy joy.
as he stole my heart.
I fell asleep in his arms
and felt as safe as a child
in her father's arms.

we were inseparable
for the next four weeks.
we toured beautiful Italy
and made love in every city.
Then it dawned on me
I was in love with him.
So much in love.

I had to fly back to the States.
my ticket was fixed my job
was expecting me back.
I said what I going to do with you jude.
he said I can't lose you Abby.
I will come for you to America.
he stood four hours
watching the taillights
on the jet fade into the horizon.

three months later

Abby opened the door of her apartment.
he stood there so beautiful.
A rose in his hand.
I got a visa for the states
I can stay.
Abby took him into her bed
and they never left it for a day.

A year later

they were taking a walk
down fifth avenue
the baby was sleeping
in the stroller.
the winter was starting
and some snowflakes
we're already flying.
Christmas Carols lilted
in the distance.
He held Abby close
and kissed her.
saying I love you so much honey.
Abby smiled her prettiest smile
for her englishman.
not as much as l love you she said
in their routine mantra.
And there in the busy street
full of countless people in a hurry.
He walked into her heart
and found a place
where fate had made for only him.
And a home where he would never leave.

By the edge of the nighttime ocean,
breaths of the sweet salty winds
cool my passions for the need of you.
Now burning in its nocturnal heat.
The waves softly sing love songs
as they break on my bare feet.
In the distance
someone is playing Spanish guitar.
I can feel their fingers gently
strumming on my heart

The salty night air is purifying my senses
breaking into echoes of old memories
perhaps of lovers never found.
In the distance
Someone is playing Spanish guitar
Note by note it is touching my soul.
I feel their passions inside me
red and on fire.

I need the sultry sea air
to drown my desires.
Reflection of moon and starlight
now dancing on the waves.
I am uneasy at this intrusion
but also spellbound.
It is so beautiful so delicate
and passionate.
In the distance
on this summer night
Someone is playing Spanish guitar
And my soul is aching.

He was too young for me.
I should have just walked away.
But God is no so kind to divorcees
close to the age of forty with a
lot of dissolutionment with urban life.
My husband cheated on me
with his secretary.
Tell me you haven't
heard that before.
I met him at a family get together.
a BBQ with awful food
and cheap wine.
it was his youth I think
it glowed like freedom.
All the emotions yet to happen.
not all those that had already been.
He dumped his girlfriend
when he saw me.
I don't know why
she was pretty and perky
and so very young.
not like me at all.
He caught me looking at him
but I did not release my gaze.
That was cruel he was a just a boy
I found out later he was Twenty two
he gave me all I needed at that time.
All the things my rat ******* husband
had never given to me.
I admit I used him for his beauty
and his life that shone from him.
But I did not know
I was falling in love with him.
he stripped me with his eyes or smile.
I could not wait to undress for him.
My mother so wise
said let him go honey.
but I didn't.
He moved in to my urban nest.
the few hundred square feet
that was mine where the world ended.
I was miffed he did not have a job like I did.
that he sat around playing Nintendo all day.
But then he kissed me
and said I love you baby.
and I melted for him.
I got angry when he was drinking
with his friends.
in my apartment
when i got home from a hard day
and I threw him out.
I told him he was never going to be what
I needed he was too young.
He moved into his buddy's place.
and called nme ten times a night
Then I saw him again
it was in the local delli
I moved a can of caviar
and he was buying steaks
on the other side.
I took him home to my place
undressed as usual
he would not wear his ******.
He said I want you to have our baby.
I wish he had just ****** me.
All of a sudden
I saw his vulnerability
his youth his inexperience.
I knew it was a trap for him.
A trap I could not set.
so I opened the cage
the door left wide open.
and he flew out into
the wild rarified air
above the mountains.

a year later

The night was cold
snowfall had covered the old tired
grey streets of new York.
I was with a group of old friends.
Still single in the resteraunt
where we aways met.
he was walking by and
used his sweet warm breath
to melt the ice from the window.
he was looking at me.
I stopped mid sentence.
I thought I saw tears
in his eyes.
but they might have been in mine.
as the frost regained control
and he walked away
into the winter night.

Don’t fall in love with a poet.
By Jude Kyrie

I look into your trusting beautiful eyes.
You are so lovely so gentle and loving.
I wonder if you know yet
you will leave me.
For you are playing
with a tinder box.
And I am a gallon of gasoline.
The fire is inevitable.
You will find out there
A man who is gentle
with a loving heart
He will see only
the beauty in you.
You will have become
tired of my poetry
The emotional roller coaster
I choose to live on.
Weary of the poets afflictions
for red wine and infidelity.
You will fall into his bed
and he will welcome you.
Into his much stronger arms
than mine can ever be.
I shall return
to writing love poems
Poems that are
real to my heart
But to a woman
that cannot ever exist.
I shall frequent
the slam bars of the city.
And sleep with
the women who think its
Romantic to bed a poet.
Yet never ask
my last name.
So strike your tinder box.
Create a spark.
Save yourself
as I ignite into
flames before you.

Please don't take this as a love poem.
I do not care to relive past moments of us.
Like when i saw you for the first time.
And the songs of angels rang in my heart.
I will never write a love poem for you again.
Like when we sheltered from the spring rain
Below a maple tree in olive greens
And the colour of its leaves
Were the exact colour of your eyes.
I am finished with silly love poems
And I will never mention again
How I stop when i hear a laugh
exactly like yours.
Or see a woman from behind
And her hair is burnished gold
just like yours.
I am now quite over you.
I hardly ever think of you anymore.
Except perhaps in springtime
But then
I should never think of springtime.
For that would surely
break my heart in two.

The night wind has voices
it whispers them
so they are not clear.
the trees filter the clarity
but I can hear them
I must walk in the wind
for your voice is in there
I know I can feel it
inside this storm.

stay the night

I feel as though
the oceans high above me
there's silence in my room
where can the love be.

stay the night
say that you love me
stay the night
Stay here and love me.
I need to feel someone
here to need me
stay the night
don't go away

The ticking clock is no companion
just waiting for the telephone to sigh.
if you stay with me tonight
and love me till the morning
then
maybe we won't ever say goodbye.
stay the night
don't ever leave me.

My heart is Saddened.
Almost in mourning.
For all the moonlight
that doesn't reach me.
And all the fragile
moments of love
that slip through
my fingers like grains
of sand

The line up at the movie theatre is long.
And the rain crosses
the scene in diaganol lines.
that's when I saw her
so frail painfully thin and cold.
her face had been pretty once.
she still had the most beautiful blue eyes.
almost too big for her now gaunt features
she carried a sign
two children and homeless please help.
I recognized her as she got closer
I had seen her a week ago
at the bus station in town.
Then her sign read
cold and hungry please help.
someone threw a handfull
of loose change at her feet
she knelt down hurriedly
trying to pick up
every single coin.
I had only twenty dollars on me.
But suddenly the movie banner
with George clooney and
Catherine zeta Jones
smiling down at me
lost its apppeal.
I ****** the note into her hands.
she looked at me with her blue blue eyes.
Then i had to walk home
in the rain as fast as I could.
For I had an overwhelming urge
to hug my teenage daughter.
and tell her I loved her

The stone mason

*he was old now
his hands unsteady.
The eyesight fading.
in winter he worked
inside his barn.
it could let the rheumatic
cool down to let him work
for an hour or more.
His grandfather had
apprenticed his father.
and he had apprenticed him.
and now his son was apprenticed.
The tools were the same.
no room for technology
Here only artisan skill.
The polished marble slab
was taking shape.
a headstone that
would stand proudly
in the cemetery.
like many of his others
that he had made
in over fifty years of his life.
it was almost finished
possibly the best work
he had ever done.
the N was the final letter
he tapped it with the iron
rounded chisel.
just hard enough
to create a perfect slant
in the marble.
her name a thing of beauty
EMMA BROWN
His wife
he was careful to leave
space for his own name
below hers
his son would chisel that
when his time was called.
rubbing the marble to a high gloss
he whispered
see you soon my love.

Don't Ask Me

Don't ask me about her eyes
they are green and dangerous
like the eyes of a jungle predator
I want to kneel before her
and beg for her mercy

Don't ask me about her hands
scarred by a thousand stories
I watch them like
a deer in the headlights.
as they trace her naked body.
Fear mounting in me.

Don't ask me about her lips
they are red and shiny
with the blood of her victims.
I want her to use them as wishes
on me
as I watch her
out of body from above
devouring me.

Don't ask me about the fear
i that roars through my heart
when she turns to me
and takes me in my surrender.

Don't ask me
what I will do
when she eats her fill of me
and leaves me devoured
and lost.

After you left me
I know it was my fault
the drinking the depression
sure it was me
it's always me.
I stopped seeing the therapist
she was right
I was the cause of my downfall
I needed to man up and change.
but I don't want to change
my brain and my heart
have been in a knife fight
all my life
I like my flaws
perfect things are boring.
so if this means I am broken
and less lovable
I don't care.
I like my flawed poems
better than her therapy.
they don't care how flawed I am
and never ever judge me

I am broken
love has done it
how can something
so tender and beautiful
hurt so much?
yet I seek relief
from this pain
by looking
for love again.
I need to feel the
gentle hands
of a woman I trust.

it's 2am Saturday night
just a few left in the bar.
Ella is lilting like a songbird

Every time we say goodbye

I have lost count of the drinks
the bartender pours me another one?
she leans  forward to show
her cleavage but I don't care.
I think of you
flying around your cage
like an imprisoned bird
lusting for blue skies.
I opened the cage door
and you flew away.
I swallow my pour
it's burn in my throat like fire.
all I can do is pull up
the memory of you
and lose my fingers
in your hair.
Ella croons the last soulful
chorus line

Every time we say goodbye.

I know this is not a poem
but it should be.

I know we are not in love
not like poetically
or Romcom movie love.
but you come over
and sleep inside me
night after night.
and the loneliness
is locked outside
in the cold night.
We are not in love.
But you are my
most precious
and beautiful
bad habit..

Sometimes Mama
I realize she's gone
never coming back.
I can even say
she left because
she doesn't love me.
She's changing
to me now Mama
I think of her
as a thief that
broke into my heart
and stole
all my most intimate
secrets.

When I was just a child.
years before I met you.
someone inplanted
a playlist of sad tunes
in my heart.
you ask me
are you okay
I look up and you see
the loss in my eyes
I have to say no
I am not okay
but I am trying to be
I have quit drinking
stopped smoking
and the mornings
when I wake up crying
are getting fewer
and far between.
for me
for now
that has to be enough.

I think back
I remember my eyelashes
fluttering on her breast
like the wings of a bird.
my tongue finding her cleavage
tracing her curves.
fingertips on her skin
her teeth nibbling my neck
somewhere in a land
between pain and ******
I remember
I remember
Oh God
how I remember

you tell me
you hate your smile
and the way your eyes
are too far apart
you tell me your
breast are too small
and your *** is too big
you don't like your accent.
but listen up my lady
I don't care
I see you with the beauty
my eyes want to see
I want you
and love you
and always will.
because when I look
at you
the world is a brighter place
I don't care if it takes
forever
I will convince you
of how beautiful you are?
And that you must
never change a hair
for me.

This is the last poem
that will ever use you
and your boundless beauty
as a muse.
All the time I was with you
You were a star hanging
from the heavens.
I reached out into the dark night
to feel your light
touching my skin.
But last week I spent my time
in the mountains.
From there you can see forever.
into the blackness of space.
A countless billion stars spangled.
But yours was missing.
I saw some shooting stars.
And I realized yours
was one of them.
I knew it was you
Because my wishes
trailed behind it
like a long tail.
It faded to nothing
and from that moment
I felt safe again.

Tranquility

sometimes the silence
of a cloud passing the moon
Allowing it's light to fall on you.
or
the sleeping breaths
of a newborn child
sending it's innocent dreams
to heaven
or
the comfort of sleeping
silently and peacefully
in a lovers arms?
as they keep vigil over you
or
the trill of the Nightingale
as it's melody coos
you to sleep through
an open bedroom window.

here it comes

silence
peace
gentleness
tranquility

sometimes
the old world
spins
much too quickly.

spring fell from the sky
in impatient greens
that used their delicate hues
to brighten the ravaged
winter world.
flowers are breathing
sunlight once more .
now growing in the
cracks of the dead
skin of winter's chill.
even the wounds of
endless winter on my body
are breathing the
fragrance of
heady blossoms.
and my heart has never
felt quite so alive.

Your Secret Love

Like the quiet that takes the prayers
up beyond these golden stairs.
Like the glowing heat of loves desire
that burns silently inside like a fire.
like the silence of a child in sleep
without a sound its dreams it  keeps.
like the silent breath of a summer night
stirring softly sweet and light.
like the knowing glance in a lovers eyes
filled with silent need and sighs.
Like the silent stillness of the lake
waiting for the dark to break.

*is how I give myself to you

The first poem

I am mid life now
finding myself pensive.
working in my flower garden
on a sunny Sunday morning.
then a poem pulls up
driving a red mustang convertible.
I remember this car
and this beautiful poem.
it wants me to unbutton my shirt
and unhook my bra.
I sit in the still familiar back  seat.
the poem recites it's soft downy words.
I notice I have taken all my clothes off
like a white pale statue.
I notice the reflection of my naked self
so desirable so hot
I still have it I feel it
I know it.
Afterwards
the poem and I
talk of Forevers
and marraige
and other untruths.

In the darkness of my room
after the moon is hiding behind mist.
I feel the weight of the granite stone
that sits forever by your head.

the weight is unbearable yet
I do not try to move it
it is now the closest thing
to your arms enfoldng me.

I have tried to move on
as I know I should.
I have even tried to dance
the familiar dance steps of love.

but when  the shadowed curtains
of nightfall return to my room
it's you honey.
only you.
As the weight of your granite
imprints  your fillegree name
over my heart.

Hear the pitter patter
Of feet rushing on the stairs
Rushing here and rushing there
Going only God knows where.

Sublime youth has feet that are nimble
Old Aged feet creep instead
One off to dance lives excitement
The other off to bed

Life is a huge long stairway
A long and winding stair
Forever rushing up and down it
Going God knows where