A Love Prayer

For love to be,
I need to love.

To love is to be love.
To be love is to love.

Only love can love.
Love can only love.

May love be my life.
May my life be love.

 

 

 

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If Every Day Was Christmas Day

If every day was Christmas Day
Would you buy more stuff
If every day was Christmas Day
When would enough be enough

If every day was Christmas Day
Would you make your peace
If every day was Christmas Day
Would all your wars just cease

If every day was Christmas Day
Would you give to the homeless
If every day was Christmas Day
Would you make it anonymous

If everyday was Christmas Day
would your love be shown not spoken
If everyday was Christmas Day
Would you leave your door open

If everyday was Christmas Day
would you think before you speak
If every day was Christmas Day
would you turn the other cheek

If every day was Christmas Day
would you stock up your ammunition
If every day was Christmas Day
would it be a rung for your ambition

If everyday was Christmas Day
would you fatten on gravy and ham
If everyday was Christmas Day
would you convert to Islam

If every day was Christmas Day
whose beliefs would you follow
If everyday was Christmas Day
Whose place shall me meet tomorrow

END

 

 

 

 

 

 

Honesty

Honesty is love’s daughter,
the same devotion,
the same clarity,
honestly.

She doesn’t come with baggage,
comforts you like a feather
landing on water,
surprises you like a bird
hitting the windscreen,
floors you like a wind
that has no breath,
redirects you like a ball
hitting a wall.

She owes no favours,
offers no credit,
collects no debt.

She is a revolutionary,
usurping all the wannabes,
maybes, uncertainties.

She is socially inept;
knows
no right time,
no wrong time,
all the time.

Being patient and wise,
she does not persuade.
She will not speak
without you –
in love,
in doubt,
in desperation.

But when you do,
honesty is always
a blessing
on your tongue,
on your ears,
in your heart –
always
her mother’s daughter.

Word Me

Words are the light we are drawn to;
the setting sun,
the fire in the desert,
the lantern in the window,
the phosphorescence in the ocean,
the promise in your voice.

No words is the dark void;
leaching love,
leaving it stranded,
lost for words,
looking dumb,
like love suffered a stroke of the heart.

So, I beg of you my love,
word me
word me silly
word me sorry
word me through the night
word me twinkle
word me fire
word me to the end of light.

 

 

My Poems’ Purpose

The title is my name,
the page is my flesh,
the letters are my fragments,
the comma holds my breath,
the words are my authority,
their space is my heart,
their meaning is my hopelessness,
their inadequacy is my striving,
the poem is my self,
the effort is my being,
the purpose, ah, the purpose,
is love.

 

Feathers And Flame

Your heat is immense,
forging my metal
from sword
to eagle.
I take to the sky
gorge myself
on your inferno,
swallow you whole.

Your flames
engulf
my horizon,
ablaze
my wings,
lick
the sun.

I pirouette
on your tongues,
flickering
you protrude, extend, reach,
meet me
in the heavens.

Your oath to heat
my freedom in flight
fuse into a planet,
a union
of feathers and flame.

I’ll Be Anything You Want

I’ll be anything you want, my love,
a grain of sand, a panoramic view,
the thirteenth bar in a twelve bar blues,
I’ll be your Mills and Boon, I’ll be your mews,
If only you will love me.

I’ll be anything you want, my love,
a fortune teller, your yoga teacher,
your secret agent in Argentina,
a roadie, a mystic, your opera singer,
if only you will love me.

I’ll be anything you want, my love,
Your coldest night, your warmest coat,
a buddhist monk, captain of your boat,
your water diviner or celebrity of note,
if only you will love me.

I’ll be anything you want, my love,
a megalomaniac, invader of Zimbabwe,
your weather vein, writer of your play,
a politician on the make, your DJ (remixed),
if only you will love me.