SHE´S MINE ALL MINE:

The girl stood upon the hard black rock,

Her heart beat hard & so did the clock,

She was splashed by cruel & icy spume,

Screaming in her face, “It´s never too soon.”

Life told the girl, “Don´t be such a silly fool,

We can do this together & I´ll be your tool,”

Life would do it slowly in grey throttling vice,

Ocean would be pretty, cold & over in a thrice.

“She´s mine” said the ocean, “Mine all mine,”

“Never”, screamed life, “She´ll be just fine,”

The girl now wavered on the precipice of time,

Beneath her feet, she felt the treachery of slime.

I KNOW NO MORE:

You are mine, from pre-conception, womb & birth,

The one I nurtured & brought in life, down to earth,

The cuddling, feeding & cradling, that was me to you,

Remember me, your mother, or have you forgotten too?

Years carried you into that land, of being a grown man,

Leaving behind the child you were & off & away you ran,

Leaving the mother who loved you & now no longer needed,

“Be careful my son” I said, but you turned, no longer heeded.

Are you now tall, short, maybe stout, or perhaps so very lean?

Is your hair now shorn, long, or maybe grey streaks are seen?

Is your dear face wreathed in smiles or marked in life´s sad pain?

It´s been so long now son, that I cannot remember it all again.

Size of your clothes, colour of your eyes & the clothes you wear,

Do you have a wife of your own, if you do, is she dark or fair?

Maybe kiddies too & if you do, then that would make me a Nan,

Sorry, I now hardly recall, since the day that you long-away ran.

I know no more, I know not where you roam, nor who you are,

I know not what you´ve done, where you´ve been, close or far,

I never imagined that, when years ago & when farewell you bade,

Mother & son, strangers we´d become-& by far distance so made.

Tell me son, what music do you listen to & what books do you read?

I thought I knew you through & through, before even the tiny seed,

Son it has been so long now, since I have seen your sweet lovely face,

My dear son, within my heart & soul, there will always be your place.

DREAMS OF OCHRE WALLS:

I dream not of winter´s icy icicles, nor of cold & empty halls,

I dream of old gold lemon groves, bougainvillea & ochre walls,

A place where the soft cool shadows make love to cobbled stones,

Where guitars are strummed & the sleepy bee hums dips & drones.

I dream not of sad grey, nor of the iced drab, hard & cruelly harsh,

But of the turquoise dragonflies, that play down by emerald marsh,

I dream of midday heat, where soft silence sits still & warmly blisters,

And promises in pebbles beckon, where the shore wet, in gold glisters.

I dream not of glaring hum-drum noise, nor of any sorry & banal ado,

I dream only of the echoing waves, white clouds & skies of cyan blue,

Where soft whispering of old carob trees, give shade to market stalls,

My haven shall be that place, where I dream of golden ochre walls.

URBAN CHICKEN:

Where do you think you´re going, you funny little chicken?

Strutting your bright feathers, as you go bob, peck, pecking,

On the side of the busy road, where traffic goes past rushing,

You should be upon your perch, asleep within soft hushing.

Trucks roaring past, cars going by fast, a honking & a tooting,

But you just go on a peck-pecking & ignoring all that hooting,

You are not an urban chicken & could one day come to harm,

So flap your wings, crow proud & strut right back to cosy farm.

LA PLAZA OF FORGOTTEN SONS:

That old sunny Plaza, where all the old village men & oddballs sit,

Where the black-clad widows, back from mass, stop & rest a bit,

That old place where you´ll find pigeons, dogs & nut brown babes,

Grey-garbed nuns & well heeled Señoras, stern, starched & staid.

Beneath whispering date palms, olives & old the persimmon trees,

Hark tolling of bronze church bells, calling all voices to bended knees,

Heed the praying of long gone monks, within the church-wall stones,

And the echoing of the ancient dead, from crumbling tombstone bones.

The Plaza where butterflies, orange trees & society, gather & daily meet,

Where icy fountains splash under fronded trees, in humid summer´s heat,

That old Plaza of silver stars, full creamed moons & many thousand suns,

La Plaza, that ancient place of old grey stone & all of life´s forgotten sons.