Whales Song ( for Susan)

They're the leviathans of the deep,
mournful singers whose songs
reach out,
across many oceans and seas,
calling for their families
wherever they may roam,
in a deep blue playground
of bittersweet memories
Whales song lingers on.

She is alone, a cow with her grown son,
singing her way to a new beginning,
following the herd to Hawaii
and points,
North and South,
Her song arching out for all to hear
some far, some near, some deaf to
her whales song.

Her path takes her many places,
and one day a new face appears,
sings back to her
in unison,
He, from a point so far away,
but his resonance echoes deep channels
across oceans floor,
echoes to Whales Song.

And they meet, mid ocean, and frollick
in the gay abandon of knowingness,
Singing the same tune
play the same games,
swimming the same channels
and attuned, they go on
singing each others Whale Song,
together.

A Five Course Meal

Starter

Like a bowl of soup,
warmth to my lips,
embraces my throat in a dish
of pure awakening.

Entree

A delicacy of nature's best,
She melts in my mouth
and settles like a caress from heaven.

Side

A concoction of lifes platter,
immeasurably enhanced
by time and living, and sits beside me,
a true accomplishment.

Main

What a sizzler,
flowing juices to my touch,
hot sensual exquisiteness,
a rarity dancing circles around my plate.

Dessert

She loves me,
And I her, forever it seems,
her ice cream to my maple syrup,
and left untouched we melt
in each others nearness.

It Started with an Online Chat

Yeah, we talked
talked for the first time on the phone
our loneliness quashed with nervous words
and platitudes, once uttered online
the PC our only touch, but now,
she is real, breathing love to my ear.

It started with a chat,
helping a sufferer through her marital
breakup and drunk husband trouble,
she and I advising with no clue who we were
until I passed my chat logon's
and she called me up later, thank you God.

"Your photo is cute, in a rugged sort of way,
and I like your name, sounds.......different",
four hours later, then five days,
we spoke, and it was real then, even though
the net was real too, but just hearing her
breathe made the difference.

Now we are crazy,
crazy in love,
crazy writing letters,
crazy making phonecalls long distance,
insane with the utter belief we love each other
immensely.

I sit here in New Zealand, 8.57pm
and she is asleep dreaming of me
in the US Virgin Islands under tropic night sky,
I dream of her when I am awake
and of us holding hands and walking
in white coral sands.

I dream of her when I can, when
I least expect to dream of anything,
I have her photo, she smiles at me daily
and when she rings, I see and hear her,
one day we will add touch, physicality,
yet we touch each other now, not the same.

Yes, I dream, and she dreams
and no one would ever have dreamt it possible
in the real world.

Watching her die

Do you stand in the room?

Everyone in gloom,

Do you see the dancer before you?

Or do you see the cancer?

Can you see her yellowd face?

The pain etched strangely,

Do you touch her skin?

Cant you touch her within?

Are you crying?

Is she dying?

Will you doubt her life?

Can you forget her strife?

Will you marvel

At what she has done?

Will remembrance be strong?

Or all her memories gone?

Theres no shame,

You're not to blame.

Take heart in her love

She gave to many,

Her life being shared

Did you get any?

Give some back in her hour of need

Don't see her bleed

Make it OK,

Dont let her stay.

And pray that her pain

Is short once again,

Give her you,

She will help you through.

The gentleman sailor,
strong as oak,
tough as teak,
finds it hard in this hour,
to speak.

The sailor's daughter,
strong but weak,
butterflies speak,
whispers of hope,
give him some rope.

The sailor poet,
feels the pain,
of his fellow mariner,
pass the wind
back to the storm again.

In her hour of need,
the angels fly,
are the butterflies,
swimming on tears,
carrying his fears.

The time for friends,
to lend a back,
carry some slack,
take the weight,
from her father's fate.

Whatever we think,
the sailor won't sink,
but gracefully sail,
like the mighty whale,
out to his home, the sea.

Have hope, hold tight,
take hold of your might,
your power
to love the sailor dad,
in his sailing hour.

There's a shade of grey,
walking the fine line of black and white
off the edge,
of an abyss to oblivion,
she shrieks in perceived pain,
the torment of souls striking.

You approach, inquisitive
as to why she walks and doesn't fly
into the yawning gap,
her screams resonate eardrum to eardrum
pain flies, pierces the synapses,
understanding billows forth.

She looks at you then,
eyes searching your soul, deep into the heart,
the abyss flashes through your mind
and you race to protect your own,
yet in so doing you see her plight,
her ghosts, and you cry.

You reach out,
touch her hand and her heart, her torment
carry the burden of her courage with you
together, you walk away from the edge,
in so doing, the ghosts flee, out of her soul,
strike paths for the abyss, their home.

She slumps, freed,
her realisation a weary grey on her mask
your hand elicits a smile,
a wan thank you, a happy retort now,
her face, once grey now alight in gold
you touch her again, for life.

Rue the Day

Look upon an enigmatic smile,

thrust stainless steel crossed swords

into a deceitful heart,

see lifelessness flow out,

a sign of the traitor, gaze upon the same face

see the smile turn up into an uproarious laugh,

and wonder at the dementia of devil worship.

Love has a cruel sense of drama,

cuts deep into the maw of conscience

plies its' trade under the guise of hope,

yet under those blades,

it shines, blood red, and kills.

A twist of fate?

Nay, the sad end to a sad start,

only truth always glows,

the face of true love is tight lipped abandonment,

the taste of victory in the passion of a lasting kiss,

not the penny-pinching snatch of lust,

and that glowing knowing smile.

She stands there,
tantalisingly,
at the foot of the bed.

Black baby doll, sheer,
sillk stockings shiny,
in the early morning glow.

A smile on her face,
teasing, and enticing
licks ruby red lips, her tongue.

I pull the covers to my chin,
naked, ready to be consumed
pass my glaze to her laced V.

She climbs on the bed,
that look, only hers, for me
walks towards her goal.

I close my eyes and think 'maneater'.

Feel her toes of one foot,
trace a delicate line over a chest
now heaving with anticipation.

A shiver escapes, shakes pores open
as her slender foot traces a trail
down to my groin, groan.....

I see her smile, brings her hand from
behind her back, a pikelet,
with strawberry jam, and whipped cream.

She bites into it, jam on her lips,
whipped cream oozing over a tongue
that dances delight, and hunger.

Lick my lips, and she asks-
"Breakfast, honey, or, or..."
she smiles deliciously, seductive.

I admire her again, black lace, black silk,
red red lips and white chin,
my tummy rumbles, but deep.

 Eternity just is......

Sit here with broken heart,
a head caved-in in grief.

Solitude cries a hungry wolf,
baying through a wilderness
of an empty apartment,
the scent of your gaminess
long wafted from barren portals.

I form paper mache clowns
to tease my sense of self,
laugh at me like I do at Oprah,
when she has some fat woman on
saying this is her fourth diet,
and it works!

The landlord my only visitor,
said he was sorry, he liked her too,
I just spat in a pair of discarded Nikes,
rang her number over again,
hearing the footprints of the busy signal.

Somehow the barrel of the 12 guage
didn't seem big enough.

I lived this way for forty five years,
one love, never held, never forgotten,
cried every anniversary, made your
favourite Mocha Spider, with coke,
hoped the door would knock.

You'd be welcome, always.

I thought I saw you once,
knew it was a dream, you were too young,
still it made me go home and open the album,
touch you one more time, just there
where we spent eons playing.

The doctor diagnosed me clinically deranged,
you have that affect on people,
I so hope your future loves
loved you like I still do.

Oh Baby

Ooh baby
lick my lips
sup of my desire
play me like a cello
bass moans and highs
reaching for a climatic
crescendo.

When blue tunes
set erotic mood
sway with sensation
love elevation
yearn for release
a wave washes
memories away.

On the morn
life is reborn
made anew with
vigourous passion
a symphony erupted
now lava cools
time for life.

The Lady and the Dumps

She smiles a crooked grin,
cries ruefully in a coffee cup
that's brim full of salty tears,
tries to drink her misery
it only gets worse.

He tries a smile,
here and there, adds sugar
and a touch of humour,
yet still the salt out-tastes
his earnest intentions, what to do?

Changes the subject many times,
yet through the screen
her misery explodes,
sending sounds of harshness
and desperation to all who see.

They talk about the small things,
try to focus away from the area
of deep concern, she warms a little,
yet another subject brings a misery face,
they find themselves trying to float.

He suggests she read a poem or two,
maybe a couplet here and there,
his ones of course, they make her smile,
so she does, and she feels his words,
touches a place she had forgotten.

Her humanity! Eaten away by self,
slowly comes to the realisation
her depression is a self generated thing,
beats a hasty retreat into reality
comes to the conclusion, it's nothing.

They taste the new glass of wine,
poured from the meeting of minds,
an aroma of love and understanding
tinged with the reality of distance,
yet the taste is no longer bittersweet.

They raise their glass, sup of each other,
a problem shared, a problem halved,
the salty tears washed away and replaced
with a certain sureness that things will be,
suddenly smiley faces replace the gloom.