Armageddon eyes

 

She looked at me

with Armageddon eyes.

A silent sigh obliterated the night,

and I knew that the end was nigh.

The door would be slammed shut

on all hope we held in our blood.

The words almost a whisper,

as if they were also dying inside.

She walked into the night without a goodbye

just a tear splashing in tidal waves at my feet,

and I walked the other way.

Dismay meet anxiety.

My mind - Plasticine moulded memories

of days I can no longer find.

Fragile teardrop recall

of days I can no longer weep,

for they left without a goodbye

whilst I was walking away

in a deep sleep.

music is key

 

He sits,

deep in the grip

of a love song as it

whips the air into fluffy

pillows, he laps up

the sweet treat

that lands when the beat

sways through,

lifting him momentarily

from his feet.

 

For in that moment,

every nerve tingles,

every heartbeat sings

louder than angels,

clearer than water.

Every ripple on every ocean

shares in that one

vast emotion.

The devotion to you.

Heavens daughter.

 

The swirling song

twirls around

like an incantation sung

from some mystic spellbook,

and the words get inside,

hook themselves to every organ,

as the heartstrings are torn open wide.

So close to snapping.

And still the harmonies rise,

popping like bubbles that fill

the skies.

I feel my hope rise.

I feel elation

as I do when I look

into your blue eyes.

 

I feel at peace,

where the

strangling chords

of day, ring so much

clearer and cleaner.

And in that

momentary flirtation

with the life I see,

I feel palpitations

as my heart

gently weeps

happily,

for love lives

deep within me

in a sea of treasures,

and music is the key

to open the wonders.

Nourishment

 

When I need some nourishment

I take all the wild words I can find

and I dice them finely,

Until I finally have a bowl

of bite-sized pieces.

Little shavings of a story,

shards of a mystery,

Fragments of love,

and a craving to see

where the flavour takes me.

All these finely sliced pieces

I gently toss in freshly scented flowers.

Then I set fire to my kindling heart

and wait until the flames roar.

 

And I can start to really cook

a specialty, a meal fit for you and me.

I ignore cookbooks,

I don’t look at recipes

I let the words speak for themselves.

I cast them into the fires of hell.

These voyagers of poetry.

In their cast iron boat.

Whilst I dance around,

like a conductor

orchestrating the beat.

There is an art to this,

learnt over years,

many plates drowned

under countless tears.

But now that I’m smiling.

I execute each part

with precision timing.

 

Sautéing in the heat,

I let them sweat,

searing the expression,

until it is golden,

I add flourishes,

herby verbs to add action,

nourishing nouns

to give some body,

then I sprinkle in

adjectives to add to the flavour.

A bouquet of scents arise,

but this meal is not nearly ready,

it needs a little spice.

 

I need to add some

seasoning similes,

meaty metaphors.

before adding

some flavoursome stock,

and bringing to a boil.

Then lowering the heat

till it’s a gently simmering pot,

letting all of the component

parts become one, and I let it stew.

 

It’s not yet ready

to serve up to you,

it needs to be fine-tuned,

refined in the last moments,

as this is a meal of love

and it takes time to bring

the best out of it,

to make every mouthful perfect.

To make every taste a little piece of heaven,

But until then I sit

weaving more words in my head

and I let my thoughts unwind,

to untangle the threads for dessert.