One last breath


sleeping in shallow breaths
at the end of the day
slowly pillowing the ether
the ebbs and flows of taking the air
that fault and start with the heart's rhythm
beats and drifts into silence

rattle the calcium cages
rasp and fault er
white sheets crumble and fall under the strain
stillness prevails again to recuperate
in dark moments fear laces the tongue

What was once born screaming stands in stilled sleep
the drum summons one last rally
as the cage lifts and falls again
machines set to keep the pace
but the waxen doll is done

One last brave effort to catch the wind
the drum beat surrenders
and with a gentle sprawl the solace of air
empties from the sleeping form
with an oxygen depleted hunger and starved
the last breath whispers away

Till white and blue the paper lips
wizened and whithered
silver hair out stretched on hospital sheets
composed in the dawn of death.
then gone with a lack of fresh oxygen
a sense of grief a sadness clings to the air
but lost in an empty room
none can a test to be that last witness

Waterfall

liquid silver shards

painful in their relief

fall from the curve

of a rose blush

iced nettle and hive

clings to the soul

a trouble forgotten

in the silhouette

of water laced semi circles

pool under the bridge

and gather the bud red

to fall from figures

onto the palm of her hand

slug trails descend

and mingle in cuckoo's spit

crimson rimmed pools

turn ugly in the wind

as the breath draws

a sob

juniper

JUNIPER

juniper in the blood

sending rings around my head

sloe and quicken the feeling

beckon the dark

hop into a blend

of scots and irish verse

taunted by the light

whisk and sour

drink and drown

the bitter herb

all is vinegar at the bottles end

Nana

Nana

light the laughter with your smile
brighten the day and then rest awhile
with fairey wings to guide you over
catch the boat that floats to heaven
that I might to rest with you
When my day is at it's end

Dream Keeper

Dream keeper

Out from the shadows came a thing of light
A serenity in stone to stalk the midnight blue
The sandman's wife sleeps on the hillside
Gathering aspiration and lending dreams to inspire

Her mind is out stretched in thought
it permeates the essence of each being
visited by her sleep walking countenance
in moonlight the very moths dance to her tune
As she beams grains of alabaster into sleepy eyes

The minds of many gathered repeatedly selling their souls
for a glimpse of the wisdom in her ethereal smile
and fulfillment comes in the touch of a dream
as whispers on the wind call her unspoken name

a marbled magical child she weaves her spell
stealing the breath of all who reach her
the depths of mountains become the
door to her dream scape

her gentle smile belies the truth
the sleeping girl is gathering youth
to cast the hopes of generations
far into the troubled sky.
A trap sprung in the unblinking of an eye

silently implanting ghostly images on an unwilling canvass
She is taking youth in trade for nocturnal whimsy
enigmatic she carves a dream cast in destiny
Is she watchful or sewing the sands of time
selling fortunes thrown against the fragile threads of life

We grow old chasing her wares
the dreams are empty kisses
disappeared ascended in the air
Out of reach , far from the common grasp
we are driven to our despair.

The Ferry man

In the Dark there's a beckoning Candle

Carry my beloved child over
In mists on the malignant moor
Quietly frozen cold dark and damp.
This silence permeates the countryside
breath freezes on the tongue
and the ferryman scrapes his wooden oars

Against the barrel of a boat
on the river, the murky river
scattered bones and pale shadows
of departed souls and lost love
and that ferryman scrapes his wooden oars

Over that cold misted river, where debris is scattered
of soldiers lost long ago in a battle great,
little children born too soon in Victorian arms.
Then tumble old men and women at the ends of time
and the ferryman scrapes his wooden oars

into the mouth of hell itself , haunted and burning bright
Out there in the dark, there's a beckoning candle
waxen limbs and fetid flesh burn vivid
the calling card of this world ended
and the ferryman scrapes his wooden oars

sail away, from this world to the next
perhaps he'll pass over in the storm
To overlook the tallow carcasses
Then safe to haven shores in the arms of angels
But no you pass by and only then to scream
as the ferryman scrapes his oars no more

Guardian

Guardian

You watch,your face granite, a stone,
arms out stretched in a tranquil embrace.
Patches of green fingered symmetry
cling to the feathers of your gown
and still you watch.
Silent in the midnight gloom
your shadow dancing in Gothic stance.

And I lie here in this bed of earth
a reflection of you caught in time,
as the tears of dawn wash clean the script of my demise.
Silently waiting for the day when you will fall
to meet the ground with the breath of an Autumn wing.
And kiss my still frozen lips dressed in summer petal
on the metallic rose bowl of the remembered.

Break down your crumbling solitude
and ever watchful stance
the ravages of ages have not been kind
to that powered marble countenance
undistinguished that once beguiling smile
come and rest with me my tired watchman
to lie in the cool tender earth
And stay in my arms awhile.