Friday 17 January 2014

In A Bottle Part 1.



Drinking hopelessly wet
The petals of the rose drunk
In a bed by the seaside garden 
Ship wrecked love, had now sunk...

To the bottom and rising 
Salty ruins of times wrath
And of washing machine depths
Found a box of treasures, he hath...

Held once when sailing so
Given to the lady on the ledge 
On the shore of sunset awaiting 
Dawn came thrice beyond the hedge...

By the garden, such an earthy patch 
Planted though the jewels of heart 
Many suns melted the time 
Waves of stars saw them apart…

Wolf








Saturday 11 January 2014

There.



Masked dreams floating in her mind 
 Cute time spent as avatar spinning

And awoken by light of existent grind 
Still softly the beating heart winking 



Light sparkled specks, far over there 
Skipping to and fro like fro knew her route 
With adventure lingering like the last pear
And the sweet scent in whispering tree sprout



They spin in a rainbow of uncertainty 
Held by the psithurism of the forest 
And bird of whim singing with density
Perched starry seedlings, their coloured crests



And they gleam 
And do they ever!
And do they ever? 
In dreams. 


Wolf 

























Tuesday 7 January 2014

Horse.


Sun sets over a water bed
Furry eyes turn to lines
And melting in the song
Of the honey suckle rhymes.

I can walk now and I can run
I can flee the soundless beat
Of beating beating drums
And know now of no defeat

For I am not defeat-able 
I am not to be won
A horse wild with water insides
and a heart so big and strong

I can hear your soul song
And I can hear it  loud
It shouts to me through your words
Your body, your mind cloud

Its ok to flee the bird of feather
Another, Its ok to love 
The strings of the universe tell me
That time is now time to fly dove.

Wolf




















Thursday 2 January 2014

Time.


The Owl & To the same 

When cats run home and light is come,
And dew is cold upon the ground,
And the far-off stream is dumb,
And the whirring sail goes round,
And the whirring sail goes round;
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.


When merry milkmaids click the latch,
And rarely smells the new-mown hay,
And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch
Twice or thrice his roundelay,
Twice or thrice his roundelay;
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits,

Thy tuwhits are lull'd I wot,
Thy tuwhoos of yesternight,
Which upon the dark afloat,
So took echo with delight,
So took echo with delight,
That her voice untuneful grown,
Wears all day a fainter tone.


I would mock thy chaunt anew;
But I cannot mimick it;
Not a whit of thy tuwhoo,
Thee to woo to thy tuwhit,
Thee to woo to thy tuwhit,
With a lengthen'd loud halloo,
Tuwhoo, tuwhit, tuwhit, tuwhoo-o-o.


Alfred Tennyson