A dance of the seas

 

He doesn't see

how when she

is alone,

sometimes

she dreams of him.

How in those

waters she swims

into his arms

and he

wraps her

in his whirlpool of desire.

Twirling

majestically

in a dance of the seas.

 

He sits watching his own visions

on waves crashing behind his eyes,

but doesn’t hear the singing rhymes

swooping a cascading rhythm

in a vortex only around him.

 

She fails to notice the

longing stares, the way

his words have song

pleading with the air

to get closer to her.

The way

her memory

is always there,

a vivid glow across his mind.

A boat on an ocean wave.

 

She just sits,

letting visions flit

flirtingly across her mind.

She sometimes hides her smile

when he speaks,

hiding her longing inside.

She just wistfully twirls her hair

around fingers wishing for his

hand to join with hers.

Lost in a dream.

A place without a care.

In evensong

 

There is a 

magic time,

when the

tolling church bell

chimes

in evensong.

When

the sun

sinks low,

resting its head on

the horizon's lap,

as it dozes off

into a dream-filled nap

 

And the sky glows

 

golden,

 

and I sit beholden

to the sky.

I let my thoughts

take flight.

Insights blending

with mystical light.

 

Swooping through

the liquid air,

they weave and wave .

Swimming

through the vapour

trails of airplanes.

And they piggyback

on the tails of birds

on their way

to someplace exotic.

To find tales to tell

one sunny day.

 

Clouds with

smiles bound

over the green pastures,

reflecting the

sheep that

graze

in bountiful skies.

Counting the seconds

mid doze, as they chase

butterfly dreams

across rolling meadows.

And the sun lolls

upon the incoming night

haloing the scene in golden light.

Silhouetting beauty

for excited eyes.

A bulldozer of truth

 

They say

this place is dead,

but I see

a big difference

I see the future ahead,

I see life

dancing

to every beat

of the heart

of this vibrant

colourful city.

The art scene

bringing the paint

in a

great wash

over the

dirt and grime.

 

The poets

articulating

veracity in

every word

they say,

in some

antics

of word

play they

get mouthy

to bring forth

a bulldozer of truth

crashing

through walls of

hateful distorted noise.

Bulldozing the past

for bright new future days

still to play.

 

The music making

the place bounce

and sway, as they

shake the

bloodstained

foundations, from punk to jazz,

to hip hop collabs.

This is not death,

but rebirth.

A retaking

of the earth

from those that

want it soiled

in spoiled thoughts

that they see as 2funky

for them.

 

They scream

about zombie towns,

about the down and outs.

Hate hidden as insight.

Outcry at anything new.

Stuck in a past that was

stained in misuse and abuse.

But now the seeds

are being planted

in communal gardens,

and new playgrounds,

so that a diverse

flowering future

can come true.

Plants vs zombies.

The plants always win.