Short Nocturn Poems

Fishnets,
lamplight legs,
broken raincoat.
It happens.
Baby sings my blues....

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quietly
        tenderness
              descends:
peacefulness
arrives
        and stays,
interludes
               languish,
surround 
          my whole
                   being,
fill it with
             contentment
and
       shalom


Words whilst listening to YouTube clip Chopin Nocturn  Op 2...

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,Center>The streets are ridge-backed and growling.
City lights glare like outflanked samurai.
Your thin hand dices words
into sideswipes.
Whiskey blooms in your orchid mouth.
I am led to where a lust
is armored, and snorting to be free.
Stories groom our hungers.
The night camps
in a small neon room....

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Variations in c note
                                       On the scales arising nocturn 
                                   Bellows swing tapping onto Harlem 









                                              All rights reserved 
                                                 A.Camacho jr.
                                                   1996-2015...

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Just before dawn,
gloom thickly laid around your head.
A time when heroes are at their weakest,
when troops turn restlessly in their fox holes,
where lions hunt inside a narrowing
sliver of night.
The suffering and ill at ease
feel a crawling flesh drag itself over their minds.
Then perhaps, a green-eyed tabby cat
leaps onto your chest. You relax into its soft purring.
Then the light slips naked and fresh through drawn drapes
seeking a heart to love....

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I let go the day
Embraced the night
Birdsong faded away
 
Shadows fell
Never across my heart
Clouds passed
The moon rising
A distant church bell
 
Stars glittered bright
Celestial heavens turned,
above the moons' soft light
 
I watched stars too
As they shone in deepest velvet blue
I embraced the night,
with all its' charm
and all its' delight
 
A gentle lightening in the sky
A hint of birdsong
Welcomed the day
To the night...
I said goodbye...

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We took the Marseilles road,
a cambered sun streaked the bay.

Lemon tea while others
search for cheap wine.

We are alone
exploring magnetic boundaries,
hands stalking a checkered tablecloth,
predict ourselves as a nocturn 
far from other eyes.

Night, secret unfolding’s, 
while we translate
the prayers of our flesh,
the tidal crests of our needs.

Dawn arrives with gulls
and guilt.
I catch the bus to Perpignan,

head for a border
that we know
we’ve already crossed....

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