- Yearn for old
Turn for the told
A want so superior
So unknown for fear
She wasn’t sure –
Did she really want more
Was tonight the opener
Over watching utopia
Of him: she taunted
Is that what she wanted?
- Confusion so perplex,
Like a puzzle with a silly vex
Ale, beer, bottles and wine
A memory, a distant time –
So lush, and so divine
A small hotel in the moors
Something far, with no flaws
Maybe it’s meant to be
This is for her, land and sea.
Do you remember when you smiled at me across the bar?
Do you remember when you said “I will always be there, no matter how far?”
Do you remember when I hugged you and I said you smelt like coconut shampoo?
Do you remember when you said you loved me, but it wasn’t true?
I remember when your smile meant my day
I remember when your hands made me at loss of words to say
I remember when you wiped tears from my eyes
I remember when we never had to worry about deciet, fear or lies
I remember you.
Do you remember me too?
So you come here to read, to seek solitude to lead. Like a little badger you creep into the woods of age picking up scents like parsley and sage. Fresh soil on your knees and lungs like old pine trees you yearn for it for her to sit, maybe it’s him not her but it’s all a watery blur. Was that yesterday or was that last May who knows says I but I remember you said “Thou shall not lie” – yet you said for peace but drama did not cease.
You came here for her or for him but not me? Come here little rabbit let me make you a cup of tea: ingrediants of confusion and love – a rather confusing infusion. Oh what have words become, I just feel glum. Here, you, my little sweet plum have a peach, then will you allow me to teach – you’re not alone as I have my phone! Just message me for a cup of tea when you come here to seek fun and hide from fear. There are no demons but the one under your bed, rest little rabbit rest your baby head.
These are my thoughts before I go to sleep, it’s rather weird and almost deep. It’s fun to rhyme at night as it can be as silly and not seen in light, I think I will do this more until I find it a bore, it shows my thoughts from the day in a strange muddle or a sleepy sway. Night night my petal for I wait for the early sweet kettle whistle of morning waking me like I stepped on a thistle.
Creatures of dark charms
And fruited hearts, do linger
This earth homes confusing alms
Like a sharp taste or an aromatic ginger,
Selfish slander roused in confusion,
Doth invade even the brightest men
Infuriating a bitter infusion,
Of heartless hounds and woeful women: but then
The universe hast remind us
Of opposites who do us proud,
They form the negative to a plus
Declaring their heart, wild and loud
So take this mother from my soul,
Bathe in my acceptance and regret
My mindfulness has been let out of control,
Of the recent decisions I hath met.
I bring forth a good will and act,
To try and transform for better
From this day on this shall be a fact,
In the form of a poetic letter
I am to grow by day like your flower:
pollen, petal and stem
Weaving towards the Sun’s power,
To become a fresh tu aimer femme.
Contours of hips and collarbone,
As morning’s hot sun sneaks
Her lackadaisical light to your skin tone,
A warm heart: an orange leak
Your smile so decalescent, searing
It’s memory impressed like a hot iron
Melting, cooling then nearing:
Roaring like he the alpha lion
Into the fragments of my fidelity,
The V so perfect a W so profound
Letters unobscured to clarity
Silence falls, there’s little sound
Two pairs of green eyes wearily close
Body burrowed to a chest
Of contours so sweet she chose
And their dazed day, laid to rest.
A hot bodied wolf
Eager to unwrap a silk cocoon
Wrapped in a green scarf
What’s next for this wee lady
She’s lost in a body of fire
She’s tired of a common entire
All of time she waits
A longing to decide her future
Dreams of snow, mountains
Pine trees yearn for their roots
Yet their entire is lost in the woods
The wishing well of green hoods
Special dandelions and petals
Grow and flourish of goods
Does she yearn, wait and will
Maybe one day a gift of growth
Will return her in her most
For now she whispers to her ghost
A tall glass of ale
Is all that she must let prevail
Of her wishes to lust, tire and pale
A skin pigment of a dark tale
O’ scene of want –
Please don’t ache with taunt
Maybe one day
Her trunk of trust may
Pillow of followers Lillie to lay
For she will wait: for this day
Amen to us all for May.
Admittedly drank a few too many pints of ale when I wrote this, hence there’s the wobbliness of it all. I’ve decided to keep the original structure and most of the words. Interesting..