New ports and several other poems


New Ports.



Occasionally an
old habit

haunts me,
and I find myself
forgetting to exhale,
as I enter

forbidden quarters,
my nose

leaking smoke
like some

ancient steam machine,
in elevators

or lobbies
under the glare
of the oxygenated,
as I beat

a retreat
to the fresh

air outside
to expel

my toxic wastes.









Tiger Pause.


Bars and

some postage

stamp space,
a few logs

and a cuddle

when the jungle

calls to us,
from our

infantile days,
poached and caged,
kitten napped

from our families
victims of

the gawkers,
we have

earned our stripes
as we pace

the strip

of nowhere
they call

our home.










The soft gurgles

of a stream,
wending its way

over bright pebbles,
The whisper of

a butterflies wings
as they dry and

at last open,
to flutter in the

whistling breeze,
a tiny canvas sailing,

So too is the

beauty of your sighs
when sleep seals
your cobalt blues

view of me.

No music ever

composed in brass caverns,
or over hollows

graced with strings,
can compare to

the sweetly exhaled
somnolent puffs of air,
that tickle my ear

as you lie next to me,

dreaming of tomorrows to come.

It is your lullaby

that lulls me
to join you in

the sandman's castle,
where we reign

as king and queen,
till dawn makes

us paupers again
rich with true

love's gold.










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Comments 1 comment

Micky Dee profile image

Micky Dee 6 years ago

I think that I shall never see,

A poem as lovely as she,

Who lies so beautifully next to me.

The one who fills my life with ecstasy!

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