ode to a beautiful man :)

He is beautiful. Each line of his
etched face has been carved by my fingers;
I feel him now; soft and warm beneath
my skin. Deep in concentration, the
creases upon his forhead, and the hands
in rapid motion; writing, writing. His hands
move through his hair, and the sigh of a weary
day flows from his aching neck, his back, his
shoulders. He rubs his eyes with the balls of his
hands, and his exhaustion lets his wandering gaze
fall upon me. He is beautiful.

poem

An empty thought caresses
the cloudless sky, breaking the stillness
and crossing the path to where cries
are unfelt, and memories unseen.
Purple clouds form on a grey horizon, and
blackness coats the resting earth.
Silently, silently, falling upon the darkened strip
of wilderness. Peaks of mountains pierce the
threatening sky and the heavens shed tears for the lost
soul who wanders the ground below.


Icthus

parliament

pounding fists upon the wooden bench;
furious shouts across the stampede of
argument. Eyes glitter with rage, and faces
redden with exertion. Pockets feel emptier than
this time last month; ideas for rolling coins keep
heads up and mouths open. listless eyes, glazed
from years of feeding, peer from beneath the
ludicrous pile of white straggles, and careless mouths
part to spill out the meaningless dribble of reason.
bulging stomachs pour from the tightened pinstriped
waistline as all rise for the lord of this house of lunacy.
And what is this place; this filthied den of deceit and greed?
why, the House of the Justice of the Peace, of course.


Icthus

creation

watching the molten sun rise
to the great trees, where the soft
breeze blows on a calm wave. Overseeing
the creation of a masterpiece in action.
breathing in the firm scents of pine,
cut grass and glowing woodsmoke.
Breathing in deeply.

Anne

The wind whispers down to the
frozen lake, where swans arch
their graceful necks, snowy white.
The wind whispers into the candlelit
place, where the kiss presses down upon
the skin below the jaw, smooth and warm.
The wind whispers through the busy
streets, along the hurrying, restless, straining
necks. The wind, the wind, it whispers, it
whispers, up to the wooden block, up past
the simple bodice, and down, down,
down upon the pale, clear neck.

for Anne, much love, Henry, His Majesty, the King

mornings will come,
daybreaks will shine through,
in this darkness of your home your
life will burst into flames of joy. I swear it.
on every life at my disposal,
I offer you my word,
watching, praying, hoping for the
day when a heart will whisper once again
to your neck that the world is alright.
I'm calling away; booking a leave,
for a month, for a year, possibly a lifetime.
But we will, we must and shall meet again, on
the peak of the hill where the orange tree grows
and in the harbour of life there waits a white ship;
growing, expanding and waiting for us, just the two of us.
I know where your heart lies, my cages of rushing
wind encase the dreams for a lifetime. but understand, understand,
please understand that for now,
I,
Must,
Leave.

Soft Flakes of Icing

Well, snow adorns the school like a layer of icing; stodgy, thick and sweet (like the icing from Greggs:)

All this soft white snow is so beautiful; God is an amazing creator!

It makes me want to jump, skip and play, but also to just stop and take all the beauty in...

I wrote another poem today, but since my resolution is to fill my new poetry notebook with my old poems first (in the ruined notebook) - which I haven't actually got round to doing yet - I had to write it in my other old poetry notebook (the one that's not ruined, but had had so many pages out of it that I need a new one!)...

*whew* that was a long and confused sentence!!

Well, better go and do some chemistry revision (my sole occupation at the moment it would seem:P)...


Icthus



'For the Lord gives wisdom;
from his mouth come knowledge
and understanding...' ---Proverbs chapter one verse 6