The flower face of the sun bloomed on you;
the corona of light
easing the passage, caressing you.
Catwalking on the bright side of life;
the false jollity, aching to laugh.
Embraces, your body in a bowl of arms,
brave waves, the last goodbye.
My own desperate clutching, as if
I were a tree sucking at the sky.
The delicate frosting on my birthday cake -
a sugary irony.
How quickly the coronal of anniversary flowers
became a wreath.
Choking on the three hundred miles
to your resting place,
the car eating the road.
Tension-riddled, the family squabbles
snapped at the air.
Alone in the pristine, starched hotel room,
propped between pillow and sheet,
stiff as rigor mortis,
my eyes ploughing a newspaper,
thoughts turned introvert and febrile.
A white envelope holding the small silver gift
of your necklace, an oyster cradling its pearl.
Your gold ring playing its warmth
on my finger, thin and white,
the September sun shining in it.
A passion flower clinging to its wire hoop,
sweating out the fragrance of late summer.
Defiant and slightly shocking in my bright patchwork skirt;
a vibrant rainbow flying in the black leer of the cortege.
easing the great weight of his grief with Valium.
The voice of the vicar carrying,
stentorian, across the echoing expanse of church.
In your diaphanous dress you were a bride
displaying your bouquet -
the mourning arum's white head bowed.
Fine linen shrouding the table, pink curls of salmon,
water glasses floating their tiny icebergs.
Plumbing the depths of your wardrobe,
the outfits hanging limp as fish.
The room gasping in late sunlight,
heady with your Florentyna perfume and oxygen cylinders,
the light lying glassy and quiet.
Your loving memorabilia yielding to damp autumn earth.
My eyes opening to your immortality. An immortal truth.
The Romantic Legend
The lord of the manor near the coast of Algarve,
Behind the manor a forested valley where
Packs of frightful wolves roamed.
A day when his youngest daughter who was a bit
Odd-as she took no interest in suitors- went to
The glade to pick flowers, she met a he wolf.
Not afraid she petted the good animal and his
Eyes she discovered love that asked for nothing
And had nothing to give but love itself.
The daughter when doing needle work had stung
Herself and there was a drop of blood on her
Index finger, which the wolf lovingly licked away.
A miracle happen the girl turned into a sleek,
Wonderful she wolf with silky black and tan fur.
Their union was complete and love rewarded.
The pair found a cave in the deepest forest
Where they lived happily for many years until
The he wolf was killed by a bigger animal.
The spell was broken and she was now an old
woman, alone and scared, where love´s light
had shone there was fearful darkness.
There was a knock on the manor´s oak door,
An elderly woman claimed she was the daughter
Of the house but, she was not believed.
It was a rainy night and when the door opened
Next morning the servants found a young girl
With glade flowers in her folded dead hands.
What sorrow, what grief, but she wore a smile
“Vale de lobo” the forest doesn´t exist anymore
And a paradise of love is lost to a legend.
PS “Lobo” wolf.
My spirit walks the graveyard,
The music sickly sweet,
My tomb is coated with my shroud,
Folded so neat.
The flower of the mourners,
Left in the wind,
One stays dry and cold,
The Orchid , the flower of sin.
The sobering touch of autumn,
Sweeping my soul away,
The rain will soon pass,
All I pray is to stay.
Our friendship was like a blossoming flower in the decaying world of decadence.
Time spent, time went, what happened to this blooming flower?
As our time and flower grew, so did our bond-
It seemed like you were never near, nor far, but always there.
Close when we needed a friend, but far-away, when we needed you the utmost.
Our families shared so much, from our FAITH in the Devine Creator of ALL;
To the pagan rituals of man. Maybe, that was our demise after all?
Then, ……………… there were our children’s flowers blossoming together.
Which seemed to bloom as one, but you with your up-bringing and false face;
Of a Man-made cultic religion- I am sure that was are demise, after all!
Maybe we had something to give in the DEATH after all; or maybe we did not?
We will NEVER know! We will NEVER know! We will NEVER know, because of you!
You ended it all – with ONE LIE from the pit of HELL! How could you?
You destroyed what GOD put together – it was never yours to begin with.
That was most-assuredly are demise, after all.
The DEATH, DISTUCTION, AND DEMISE of a created blooming flower, friendship and family.
You and only you, with the help of the Enemy of our SOULS; killed it all.
I have heard some say, as one LIE can destroy all things; one TRUTH can reunite them
But,……………….. But, we will never know.
We will never know what was truly lost, because of you!!
We will never know if that ONE TRUTH could recreate our friendship and flower.
We will never know, because of you and your world of -
LIES, DEATH, DISTRUCTION, AND DEMISE!!
The golden hue of ringing of leafy bells-
so yellow and orange as the dawning sun-
sings a mellow whispering tune that swells
in the air of the thickest wind who sung.
The air of mist bows to the ground-
and morning fog seeps up to the mourning tree.
Mysterious to the depth of the roots who sleeps just down
the trunk of the sturdy crooked tree.
And so it gently slopes in a mourning tune
just over the decaying flower covered in a winter coat-
just as the colors of Antlantic sun set.
And off the limbs of branches the leaves gently float
unto the moral flower as a blanket to an eternal rest.
Where are you brother for flesh that sizzles for me?
We ache together and cry apart in arms of lovers
Foreign to us as spirits in the air
God before man, Lovers but happy, yet hating this life
And we loved each embrace but hated the end, the beginning I died in between
In the arms of my lover, my sin, my hates face
And they whisper about things they can’t understand
I died, and he lies in you now
Happy little girl, happy man
And I lay way over there far away
Best stay that way
Adios, Adios amigo of Diablo
And I died there among the ashes
And I cried alone in her
And me, And I am more now not like before
Solo and he knew it, can’t claim ashes she burnt up away in the air
You can only catch piece of her, pieces of what she use to be nothing to you
Burning her in the air before a new world
Hate me please
Because she will never truly hate you like before
She saved herself from past
Where you still remain in youth in that little girl
Good bye man, Goodbye
Pick up your fallen flower and run just like before
Its best beast that’s what you like
I forgot all the good things you were
What you said at the beginning I died at the end
And all that is left is you’re fallen flower on the floor
Damaged goods that little girl, used by all those before you
And I am not bitter why be heard beast I knew the real you she got the copy false
Oops that’s me I know nothing she knows the real you
Because he was more intelligent than her she knows nothing
Uh huh and they all remember when he left
Uh huh and she forgot and he remains now in you be happy
Carry your disease infested butt right back to the pits of hell far from her.
Cause she needs the heat and you frozen in the center of her heart
And he will melt you away just like before
Goodbye enemy of mine wrapped beneath a friend/hate
Catch you latter with that child near me
Minus the one that still hurts!!!