Too Red.

Beauty in a seed, a bloom t'was  rare!

A rose like you doth stay, not awhile

Do you Red Rose?

Red as a beating raw heart, like mine 

Thorns sharp from winters last bite

Must you feel neath these?

Do you Red Rose ?

Red like a prick of thumb to your leaves.

A late bloom is she with a wild scent 

And warm curled petals so 

Don't you Red Rose?

Red with one sniff my cheeks a flow.

I shall not pick you though, Red Rose

For you are too red, too wildly scented 

Aren't you Red Rose? 

Are you ?

Red Rose? 

Or are you already dead Red Rose? 

For me, were you meant ? 

Wolf 

To Be.

...The wilderness has a mysterious tongue 

Which teaches awful doubt, or faith so mild, 

So solemn, so serene, that man may be, 

But for such faith with nature reconciled; 

Thou hast a voice, great Mountain, to repeal 

Large codes of fraud and woe; not understood

By all, but which the wise, and great, and good

interpret, or make felt, or deeply feel.

Percy Bysshe Shelley 

Model: Sara

Being.

...In the wild woods, among the mountains lone, 

Where waterfalls around it leap forever,

Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river 

Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves...

Percy Bysshe Shelley.

Model Sara

 

A Reminder

You called me darling a many 

You held me tight in your arms 

Your cheeky smile lit up, it did

Our hearts were one, no qualms.

The scent that lured a cuddle

A winter coat and coloured beard

Taketh away the pain did twice

Gone was all  that I feared 

...

Alas 

...

T'was fear that is, and fear that was

That sounded the journey to descend  

The fear of hope, the fear of soul

You made a mark, to no amends

Madness I thought and I did think 

A mark to stay unrenderred 

Then did I think, and ever so, thought 

The fear will only be remembered. 

Wolf 

Bowing to the wall.

Facing it at morn, 

It's magnetism lures. 

From afar it is in seen,

And the storm is conjures.

The time made crevices,

Howling wind it moulds.

The rock face of memories,

Imminent  future to be told.

Golden jaws of beauty,

Aside a large puddle of rain.

Waves whap  the cliffs of life,

Her face in stone, it did contain. 

Wolf

Dedicated to Matilda 

Jester To The Lion.

Jester :

”Why do you lounge like a Lilly on a pond”?

Lion:

 "It is so that the Blossom in the wind 

Is soundless like a whimsical vagabond...

...It knows of silent pride; tall of a stem

Cut like a cutting from the innocent garden bed

Left to float on sweet droplets there

In a jar to grow both an end”.

...

Though the feline mind seemed knowing 

Laughs does the Jester, as he could plainly see 

On his warm rock of pride, this Lion 

Was as as stern as a pod without his pea

Stuck to the rocky mound

Like a mollusc on a desolate boat

Thoughtful the Jester, he started to juggle

Making a silly knock knock joke

...

"No" said the Lion 

“I will not have that here

My mind flows only with the wind 

Of thoughts and feelings sincere”

...

"What's not sincere 

About the sound of laughter?

Lion do you know ? Can you see? 

Could you be any dafter”?

…

"Daft? not me, not I, not at all

It’s you with your jokes and dances

All those silly face pulling antics

You’ll be eaten like the Gazelle that prances”

…

“ So I shall dance, and I shall prance

For you dear Lion will need to eat

Eventually the fun I have in chase

Of folly you will have, will be your defeat

…

 " All you will be is t'ween my teeth, just meat”!

...

“ Oh Lion, you must open your mind

Tis Hearts like yours all set in stone 

Whom are lost of joy in life, and alas

 My friend, you will find yourself alone”...

Wolf