Category: imagination

Love songs and poems

Listening to the love songs

reading the poetry books

love should be out there

 can’t be overlooked


take my breath away

love at first sight

these are the prizes

if the authors are right


looked around the corners

 under the seats

in my life, that sort of love

seems to have me beat


take a deep breath, what do I smell

old socks , damp washing on the line

where are the  roses or jasmine 

romantic and fine


I think I have

had the sparks and the flashes

but not the full thunderstorm

or arel those songs and poems

so far from the norm



Is companionship and friendship

a more sustainable refrain

am I searching for unicorns

pots of gold, bubbles in champagne


I want to taste the sweetness 

of honey on my tongue

yes still I am searching

for a cliched romantic world of my own


Then I look up as a shadow drains the light

you walk into the house smiling

perhaps my shining knight

am I wasting my life on improbable profiling



Is my love with me

but my mind doesn’t see?

I am confused, who can help me?

Fantasy and reality

Fantasy and reality side by side grow

boundaries blur where is the plateau?

starkness of words translated into pictures

 holes in the substance, filled in, no glitches


Subconscious embellishment start a glow

bad habits, never witnessed, don’t spoil the show

endearments uttered are stored in memories box

 intense and  important, they become a paradox


She needs her emotions stirred, to feel a connection

his drivers very different, need inspection

married to other’s, they met playing a game

chatting and sharing life in a cyber domain


She’s desperate for love, her happiness compromised 

she grabs  affection and excitement, it makes her blind

he looks for  flirtation, moves through lusts revolving door

 enjoys the immediate journey, never requiring more


Intimacy inevitably grows with the sharing

 Could be great, if their perspectives were pairing

she loves that he calls her by that special name

unaware he calls, all other girls the same


He is wrapped up and interested, its no ploy

but soon he will be bored and move  to another  toy

her one in a million man will gradually pull away

Leaving her devastated  and crying at close of day

My home

Inside my bag are packed the things

that fill my heart with joy

the faded, threadbare shawl

that whispers 

a tinplate soldier toy.
Inside my bag wrapped well in cloth 

a tiny mirror fragment

immortalised inside that glass

the ghosts of those I love

Some memories are intransigent
Inside my bag stowed very safe

two  engraved silver napkin rings

a wooden bowl of cedar wood

an ebony black queen a

reminder of past sins

Inside my bag I have my home

memories, from days gone by

I lost the rest, I am alone

I will be till I die.
The hostel for the homeless 

Is where I rest my head

My bag stops my neurosis

My home sits under my bed. 

Idle Dream

An Ottava Rima second stanza added

a,b,a,b,a,b,c,c
Those moments that I have, for idle dream,

Are not spent, in the pasts celestial halls

might …have … been, won’t change for all I scheme

it just means locked doors and closing walls

 dream future new, or lose my self esteem

 condemn myself to run the wheel, outdoors

 a need to cherish memories is great

can learn from the past before t’is too late

My idle dreams help me merge my various forms 

and in my mind shape who I want to be

I  escape into a  space free from storms

find treasure, sit, relax under a tree

take a magic carpet, away from all the norms

No time to spend in angst for that’s the key

Those moments that I have, for idle dreams

Are saved for the happiness schemes

Museum of the mind

​Frozen in time, behind windows of glass

in the museum of the mind

Events from the past 
But how clean are those windows?

 From the thoughts we revive

When we dredge deep, in minds’ recesses

for treasures or lines

Have some of the mirrors

 become distorted,begrimed

As we struggle to focus, to keep them alive.
We use  tricks to remember

 the good and the bad

Hurt and misery, etched deep  a recurring repast,

Happiness  in a golden glow,

 romance set in amber, meant to last,

special moments, scattered around, hallmarked with glad

so many more stamped  bad or sad

The museum of the mind is

 stuffed full of concepts

But do these pictures and words

truely represent or project

Are some things forgotten

 have we added some lines

Are they a true picture or sanitised and swept
Frozen in time behind windows of glass

In the museum of the mind

Events from the past.

I am the curse I am the legend

This is a Terzanelle with a rhyme pattern of

ABA¹, bCB, cDC, dED, eFE, fFAA¹
The water ripples dancing silvered

Joining and flowing to become the sea

I am the river rushing tempered 
If you listen hard you can hear my plea

I am the curse I am the legend

Joining and flowing to become the sea  
I am destruction I am resentment

If you listen hard you will hear my screams

I am the curse I am the legend
I utilise a siren’s schemes

To lure you to a fate you can’t forsee

If you listen hard you can hear my screams
I grow and expand as I hit the sea

As I roll and I crash, my power forms

To lure you to a fate you can’t forsee
Forever revenge will conjur up storms

As I roll and I crash my power forms

The water ripples dancing silvered

I am the river rushing tempered.