SEX MEMORIES:

Naked & exposed, a little bit of fat & a little bit of quiver,

A dimple here, a little mole there & that tiny little shiver,

A stroke, a caress, a sweet word, maybe if lucky, even two,

Cold turns to hot with verve, breast turn to pink from blue.

The few sloppy kisses & a soft blowing within receptive ear,

With fleshy engines full throttle, hot passions banished fear,

The blue veins traced by fingers, knees & belly gently kissed,

You may not be Adonis, but if you left, you´d be sorely missed.

Caressing years away, together with all expending urgent urge,

Hot steamy memories of passions & sighs that no longer surge,

But in whispered words of touching, softly & tender fingered,

Love in corners hovers deep & in passing yearning still lingers.

TRAPPED:

Where does the doyen of care go when she´s inside her head?

Deep within the cockles of her soul when she goes to her bed,

She´s curled up tight within herself, inside deep & slowly dying,

She´s no longer caring, not seeing & has even given up trying.

Once a young virgin maid, into loveless marriage forced & wed,

So very innocent, afraid & sentenced to the cruel married bed,

It was arranged & spliced by patriarchs, to one who didn’t care,

And to his leering gaze, she lifts not eyes, does not even dare.

Bearer of the sons, keeper of the hearth, the bed & tidy home,

No possessions, no pay, absolutely nothing to call her very own,

No loving word, whipped into submission, never to answer back,

Trapped in a home, not hers, within walls wrapped in very black.

CHAPEL BELLS:

The wailing of Holy Imams, from minarets of old half moon,

Calling all men to prayer, from rose dawn to well past noon,

Of Pagodas, Mosques & Temples, the wailing of God´s words,

Drifting up to Heaven, upon the precious wings of Holy birds.

From grey-daubed Churches, peaked spires & old campaniles,

Beckoning worshiping flocks to come, bend, pray & softly kneel,

 Holy places, where sermons are read & sins are sorely confessed,

Where new babes are named & all are forgiven & divinely blessed.

From the gargoyle-eyed, ivy-clad & dew-kissed Cathedral steeples,

Their clanging heard far & wide, reaching out to all God´s peoples,

Through the grand arched doors, marching all of Sunday´s troupe,

Asking hopefully, “Is this the right road to Heaven´s Holy route?”

But the quiet voice to which I heed & which touches soul & heart,

Across soft gold valleys of daffodils, alone, solitary & quite apart,

Calling good folk from far afield, to sing away all their earthly hells,

I hear the beckoning of their soft calling, of my little Chapel´s bells.

IF YOU HAVE A PRAYER:

Put in your prayers, a brother, a sister, a child & a beast,

Share a coin with the hungry, for the entire world to feast,

Give a smile to the sad, to frighten away the tearful frown,

Donate soft words to the lonely, to them a beautiful sound.

Bend down to the shivering puppy, abandoned & so alone,

Reach up to the big tree, before the axe man comes to hone,

Embrace the confused sad world, weeping in sore sorry pain,

Water drought´s land with your tears, where there is no rain.

If you have a prayer to spare, please place the world within,

If you have a caring heart, then all shall be duly rinsed of sin,

If you have a loving soul, then I know that you´ll deem to dare,

To put this whole wide universe inside your whispering prayer.

SOFTER CLIMES:

Take me far away to those warm softer climes,

To where curtains waft behind hot siesta´s blinds,

From the cold ice-capped toes & red-nosed rimes,

To where donkeys clop & old church bell chimes.

Take me to where wine is cool & red sanguined,

To where vines & winds in my hair softly entwines,

Far from the ching-ching of sordid nickels & dimes,

To where the birds sing & butterflies flits & mimes.

Take me to dine on delicate fish, flesh without spines,

To sup with runcible spoon & fork of rosewood tines,

Away from acrid beverage & stewed venom maligned,

To quaffing of lemons, mangoes & sweet green limes.

Take me to the briny waves & show me snowy equines,

To where mother moon is so gentle & the sun so benign,

Far from the world with its dross, its slime & grey grime,

To where beneath palms & pines, breezes sing & whine.

Please, take me far away to those warm softer climes,

Where nothing tightens, stomps, nor ties & sorely binds,

Far from the watching of time & always towing the line,

To where I´ll be fine & the peace of the world is all mine.