Now and Forever

Is it the moments,
when my hands are in yours,
when your eyes rest on mine,
kissing mine, with a look?

Or the times
when love's store in us
is so full, only silence
can find expression?

Those times,
when laughter ripples our faces,
and our spirits soar together
far above our bare surroundings - as one.

Those times,
when you pointed me
to your sister the moon,
hanging in the sky,

Blessing our lips as they meet?

Those times, that you love,
those times, that I love,

Those times;

Now and forever - You and I.

Out in the Cold

Antartica, resting place of sailing ice,
why is your harbour within my heart?
and your ships, like shifting dew,
with cold tongues, lick the morning air;

The howling blizzard bears down on me,
flapping my garment in its wailing turn -

Chilling, biting, blinding my sight,
melting my happiness with cold warmth.


Penguins gaze at me in pity,
their white bellies like polished ice,
around and about, I peer through their numbers,
hoping to catch the sun's yellow eye -

I pray the sun would leave her nest
and shed on me tears of fire,

To dissolve the water-rocks that embalm my heart
and grant me the peace of a heavenly choir.


When will my lips cease to quiver
from the embrace of this sunless room
and my frozen hand beat my turgid heart
to break the icicles that fill its roof -

Another anchor is let down; one more ship is docking,
adding a sober merchandise to my overflowing stack

Antartica, resting place of sailing ice,
why is your harbour within my heart.

A Tapestry of Roses

I will sit by a gentle flowing stream
that holds the moon in silver radiance
and there, whisper solemnly this creed:
"I love you now as I loved you once":

And remember, my untutored lips
to say this, both in good or ill.

What song is this, within our hearts ringing?
what tune is this that graces our ears?
songs of love, with a melody pealing,
unknown to the sweetest of all birds:

Songs that tell of nothing else
except the passion that we share.

Let us leave the earth and take our place
in the assembly of the stars,
and our souls, dare to embrace
this offspring of our beating hearts:

Entwined tenderly with many-a-thousand posies,
bound, heart-to-heart by a tapestry of roses.

Beyond The Starry Night

My love is not of this place,
she is coming to me from outer space;
we would shame Mercury's fire with our love,
and gallop across Venus from dawn to dusk.

The Earth would not hold us firmly to it,
the plains of Mars must feel our feet
till Orion and Andromeda gaze in starry wonder,
and marvel at such a love as ours.

We would soar, aloft, borne on the Sun's light
and relish all of Jupiter's pride,
on the rings of Saturn, we would mount our nest
and drift awhile, to a blissful rest.

Uranus shall rejoice at our approach
and beg of us to make him our home
but love has no abode save in the hearts of men,
no cosmic sphere can be its den.

For aeons on end, our love shall bloom,
and swell the fortunes of a thousand moons
we would be the envy of stars and comets,
Neptune shall bow and call us blessed.

I will drown myself in this celestial praise
and kiss her feet at Pluto's gate. . .
O, my love is not of this place,
she is coming to me from outer space!

Chrysalis

Swathe in the tenor
of the living air . . .

Hearts,

sconced in their
supple songs. Bright kernels.

Happy hills, collared by clouds
splaying sprinkles of gold
across the sea above,

Stem our Hearts

in the Chrysalis - the bud
between sunrise and our dream.
Shore the surf
In a merry scamper,

waves wading, the crisp chortle

of the sands.

A Dream Sequence

Soft flutter of wings . . .

Wisps of hair preens the breeze,

merry bells,

tinkling,

from between her lips . . .

My heart ticks

apace with the freezing heat - 

pure light - 

snow-white flash in tundra sheets . . .

Stillness becomes me - 

only a finger flickers,

as I, reaching still,

to touch her heart . . .

It flames!

Serenade - A New Moon

Silver tusk on the tired

shoulder of night . . .

Melody, quivering down the

string on your horns like

restless rivulets from rippling rain-reeds.

Brave harp,

daring the shadow

of clouds - life hanging;

swinging on a dream.

Cascading thoughts,

plump with the visions of night,

moonbeams raising stardust

as the furrows mount the mounds . . .

A bolder strain, yet, sweet lyre

for the sentient seeds;

Break the silence

on the plough . . .