Friday 31 May 2013

SOPHIA LOREN EYES:



Oh boy, those sixties, the psychedelic, groovy, swinging & free,
 Afro hair & Mary Quant´s mini-skirts way high above the knee,
Of Twiggy, Beatles, Jean Shrimpton & those fab Rolling Stones,
Making love-not war & flowers adorning our hair & skinny bones.

Those long gone times, when I was young & told I was so pretty,
When young lassies burned rules & bras & let loose nubile titties,
Carnaby Street & King´s Road, love, flower-power & colours wild,
When the music ruled & wooed every wanton wild & hippie child.

But then, there was only one thing I wanted, desired & really needed,
For me not the bare feet, nor unruly locks flowered, braided & beaded,
I did not want to be Lulu or Janis Joplin, nor Lucy in her diamond skies,
All I´d ever dreamed of & wanted, were smouldering Sophia Loren eyes.

I would sit for hours, with pencils, shadows, paints & pitch-black kohl,
In front of my critical mirror & isolated in my room, my little fish bowl,
Drawing with shaking hand, line upon line & black upon ancient brown,
Down at the corners & up on the lids, my smile stealing away the frown.

 Hour after tiring hour, perfecting the look of Sophia Loren, the divine,
Until the day, Eureka, I got it right & Loren´s eyes at last became mine,
My eyes spoke Italian better than Sophia, after practice & so much paint,
 I was sure, that by the Vatican´s Pope, I´d be deemed an appropriate Saint.

Now I am old & short of sight & it´s a rheumy, red-eyed old woman I see,
But in my mirror, it is Sophia Loren looking back at my youthful memories,
And as the music of those halcyon days, fades in my old head & slowly dies,
I smile at the thought, that once I´d achieved those sultry Sophia Loren eyes.

Thursday 30 May 2013

I WRITE OF:



You ask if I know what it´s like to bring the babe to earth,
No, but I write of conception & the pains & pangs of birth,
I write of rapid growth & the tardy progress of every man,
But I have not yet grown, not walked a mile & neither ran.

You ask if I know what it´s like to be loved & to return love,
No, I´ve never loved, but know it´s all around, below & above,
I write of love & passion & of that effusive & orgasmic flame,
But I have not yet been unleashed & I am still far-far too tame.

You ask if I know how to dance, to paint & to gaily trill & sing,
No, I´ve never been given talent, just a clipped, God given wing,
I write of the artist, of the dancer & also of the love lorn bard,
But I´ve no talent to call my own, not even a small & tiny shard.

You ask if I know what it´s like to feel that searing & aching pain,
No, I´ve felt no pain; maybe I´m too hard, or probably just insane,
I write of those sad feelings, of the desolation & desperate screams,
But I´ve no tears that fall from my eyes & down my face in streams.

You ask if I know all about life´s living, the lingering dying & of death,
Yes this I know, I know all about the sighing of life´s ultimate breath,
I write about the joys life & also what it´s really like to expire & die,
As I´ve always been part of this wonderful earth, of sea & mighty sky.

Wednesday 29 May 2013

IS THIS LOVE?



She asked him, “Is this what love is all about?”
The flirting glances across the candlelit room,
Breathless when your heart goes boom-boom,
 The tender fleeting kiss & sweet soft caress,
Compliments made on my brand new dress.

She asked him, “Is this what love is all about?”
White Fairytale wedding in the month of June,
The waltz & holding hands beneath the moon,
The flowers & poems & those missives of love,
Giving thanks for this love to the God above.

She asked him, “Is this what love is all about?”
Orgasmic passion & crimson roses on pillows,
Fire in the loins, sweet words beneath willows,
The touch of a cheek & the kissed away tears,
The reaching out touching & knowing no fears.

She asked him, “Is this what love is all about?”
The wretched retching, while you hold the pail,
Of hairless head & wrinkled skin yellow & pale,
The acrid scents of those droolings & seepings,
Love swept clean of life in memory´s sweepings.

“Yes,” he said, “this is what love is all about,”
The good & bad, the passion & slow imminent dying,
This love which enables us, upon wings to go flying,
And holding your hand, I now know without a doubt,
That this my love, is exactly what good love is all about.

Tuesday 28 May 2013

ASK THE WINDS:



I seek, I plead, I ask, to every God & Deity as I daily pray,
Questioning on my bended knees, I faintly swoon & sway,
Softly blowing Zephyrs of sweet exotic & cinnamon breath,
Tell me the difference between life & of impending death.

 I hear Mistral´s minstrels moaning in mountains cold & mauve,
I peer through mullioned panes of the old Druids magic groves,
In your icy groaning, I hark, I strain & I eventually hear & heed,
Tell me, what is it, from this human, that this old planet needs?

Harmattan, crippling winds of Africa, parching, dull & dusty dry,
Why is it that man is so very cruel, please tell me, why oh why?
You blow their meager seeds to dust, then bury them all in hell,
Why do you suck the life out of every river, lake & lowly well?

Sirocco, warm & softly sultry, you of Saharan gold & rainy wind,
Whipping every beast & Bedouin, brown, gritted & grainy skinned,
Why beneath the golden dunes, are secrets hidden down & deep?
So when digging with broken nails, all we leave behind are heaps.

Levanter, windy flamenco voiced of blustery, gusty & murky greys,
Blowing willy-nilly, hot & cold, scorching weary souls along the way,
Briny Mediterranean minions pray pleading upon their broken knees,
Be banished & take this madness with you, go, we beg you, go please.

Winds by nature, winds by name & in every corner of this earth,
Some may kill, some may cure & some may come to give us birth,
Tell us please of your secrets & then be on your windy blowy way,
Leaving all of us, mere stems at your bidding, to bow & gently sway.

Monday 27 May 2013

ONCE UPON A LOVE:



Once upon a long time, I had a special love,
Of those that come just once & never more,
Destiny, fate, & sent from the heaven above,
I knew at once, when you walked in the door.

As though we had invented love & so we lived,
Separated from the whole world, just us two,
Separated from one & all, we had been sieved,
You left, the sun departed & my life turned blue.

I buried you beneath a tomb of old cold tears,
Mantle of your caresses, now no longer warm,
Winds carried your voice away beyond my ears,
Your kisses washed away on unforgiving storms.

Once upon a long love, there was a special time,
And now you´ve gone & we´ve been torn apart,
Once we touched, bodies, minds, souls entwined,
Now, just a welcome mat at the door of my heart.