Five - Six - Thirteen

After a glorious production the sun
bows graciously behind the trees on my right
to rapturous vesperturnal applause.
To my left the bats fight their nightly battle
against the ravenous grasp of mortality.
Pheasants overrule the avian debate
ahead of me in the comfort of sakura silhouettes.
I see the detritus of a summer holiday
strewn on uncut grass. Cars. Watering cans.
The bag of wet swimming things I meant to unpack.
Tea steams in the cool air.
Behind me the warmth of love coaxes, calls, caresses my name.

I close the door to outer beauty
and open my heart.

He

He is a misanthropic Dr Seuss character
Fantastic and forlorn.
In his tower, viewing Camelot.
A spaceful time; timeless but for
A dinosaur. And memorabilia of a time
More fabulous than now.
Self evident truths. Pained. Personally haunted.
Exquisite facade. Visually gifted.
Betrayed by sight.
Stand alone at arms length.
Internationally adored.

Never change.

A Good Talking To

Heed the prophet as she comes;
bitten nails, mascara runs.
What once entranced now nauseates.
Love once inspired, now apathates.
No balls for you, young Cinder-Zappa.
Weak and cowardly. Empty wrapper.
Betrayer of your youthly self,
Now 9 to 5 and on the shelf.
Uncreative, antisocial.
So far removed it's downright woeful.
The slip so far to what you are
can only treasured memories marr.
Reclaim yourself, take back the night.
Keep your goals within your sight.
Self-sabotage and confidence lack
have stolen years you'll never get back.
Forget the times you could have made it,
before your chance and youth have faded.
Focus now on what will be
as working truly sets you free.

Baby Weight

If love is love as love should be,

then why does it enslave, not free?

Love is a power - nay, a force

that rivals all but gravity

and as said best by Spiderman:

"Power is responsibility".

You, the product of our love;

that spiralling arcing meteor.

Those fireworks, rockets, sleepless nights

that bred into a lifetime more.

And slavery was none more false

for waged I am by your sweet smile;

to relive that first one again

I'd crawl on cliche a million miles.

The perfume of your morning hair

outweighs the months of colicked hell.

To watch you grow and learn and love

I'd give again my childless self.

The birth of you one snowy day

shackled me with steely bonds.

But witnessing your joyful play

is all the freedom I could want.