End Of The Road

Maybe dreams of flying are not always for the best! Same song, different result.

Precipice ran to meet,

Beckoning this one leap,

Fall into the chasm,

Dream, forever sleep

In arms of love’s surrender,

Crashed against its sides,

Anointed bloody union,

Hearts split open wide.

Crushed at zenith’s falling,

Dashed hopes lie, heavy broken.

Flight of fantasy, marred by truth,

End of the road, was spoken.

Subconscious Endeavour, Sleep Forever

I have an inbox in my brain

And sometimes mail arrives

Formed, complete, ready to publish.

It’s quite a nice surprise


To not to think the thoughts aloud,

To know subconscious endeavour.

Ping! It comes and I awake.

I just may sleep forever!

Possible Dreams

Each shell on the seashore,

A possible dream.

Lift it and listen,

Hear all it has seen


Of lovers entwined

On the sand in the night,

Exploring in darkness

Sensual delight


Of kisses so sweet

All tenderness felt,

Hearts pound to waves motion

Instinctively, melt.


Of touch in the sand

Where grains wash away

But passion and love

Forever will stay.


Of mermaids and men

And lusty portrayal,

Weaving together

No lies, no betrayal.


Of sharks in the deep

Where cold water flows,

Of destiny’s rhythm

Not one soul knows.


Only shells on the seashore

And the stories they tell

Hidden on a beach where

Rollers rose and they fell.


Empty apart from grit

Some may grow,

Revealing a pearl

Of wisdom to know.


Listen quite closely,

Their stories convey

A message for living.

They learn while we pray


A plea to the heavens,

A song from the sea,

Whispers of wonder

For you and for me.

Explore the Night

Awake again at 4a.m.

New disconcerting routine,

Disturbs my equilibrium.

What can it really mean?


Alert in mind, I light and write,

Fast and furiously,

While body, eyes demand more hours

In unconscious liberty.


Expel the words, take down the notes.

Try to keep it legible.

Later on today, I know,

I’ll make it more intelligible



Except this one, it came to me,

Not at 4 but half past three!

It’s going in my post right now

As is. Insomnia is such a cow!


I never used to wake at all.

I slept and dreamt till wake-up call.

And now I can’t get through one night

Without waking, writing. And some is shite!


Has anyone an answer to

This problem? What to say or do?

Except. I don’t know. I may quite like

Waking in the dead of night


When all asleep explore their dreams

And I explore my mind.

My Love

Lost in contemplation of your eyes,

A smile escapes, then followed by my sighs.

You lie with me and pools of liquid gleam,

I snuggle close and close my own to dream


Of love we’ve shared so many years like this,

Of passion, slowly followed by such bliss.

In dreams, you run to me and hold,

To warm a heart, once frozen so with cold.


Your trust in me fills all I am today

And makes the woman work at keeping all this way.

For none should take such precious love for granted,

It’s effort, work, combined with seeds we’ve planted.


If dreams turn other thoughts to mind,

Remember, in my life, you’ll always find

Arms wide to welcome all you are:

My lover, friend, my constant shining star.

A Dream Too Far

My friends,

I find myself so drawn

To others I can’t see

And yet, their souls are visible.

Is this only me?


All week long

I worked and wanted

To share myself with thee

To read your truths and your stories of

Truth and fantasy.


It seems to me

That I now live a lie

In once, choice profession.

Excuse me, please, I know this sounds like

Sordid, mean confession.


It is not that.

It’s just that, well,

I’ve written far too long and hidden all

I’ve thought and felt,

Like BBC banned song.


At last I feel

I’ve found my way,

Words upon the page

Flowing more profusely

Than at any other age.


I love my kids

Inside my school,

I know I do them well,

I, seriously, could do no other.

They’re like my own, myself.


But what to do,

I’m fifty-two.

I know that that’s not ancient

But I don’t know if I have will

To be forever patient


To do what I have always felt

Is so my heart’s desire

To set chosen words

Upon a page

To fuel a literary fire.


I kind of figured

A short while ago

That all this was a dream,

Like fairy belief and flying;

Nothing as it seemed.


Such disarray within my thoughts,

My dreams are running wild

And yet,

I am responsible,

No longer infant child.


May dreams surpass

All aged years,

All human expectation?

Is wanting something longed before

Merely, childish, frustration?


It may be so.

I think it may

Be nothing more than flight,

Imagination, born of dreams

Aurora Borealis light.


But, still,

I see them flashing there

Right before my eyes,

I look forever upwards

At heavenly, promised skies.


If truth be told,

There’s part of me

Still gurgling in my cradle.

I can’t let go, confession time.

I simply am not able.                                   


Fairy Tales and Dreams


That was then and this is now

Fairy tales and dreams do come true

Even with only tentative belief.

Visions and feelings vivid in childhood

And held as the realest of real

Become dulled with age and experience,

Until eventually something held dear

Becomes a nonsense because life tells you it is so.

Standing at the top of a flight of stairs –

Knowing, believing absolutely,

That jumping

Held no danger because I was lighter than air.

Confident in my conviction

And yet still I held back from that leap.

A leap of faith.

Faith that must not have been as absolute as I thought

For I never made the jump.

To this day I still cannot understand

Why I did not

Because I recollect vividly the

Supreme certainty I had in my

Power to ‘sail’ from the top to the bottom

Without injury.

Some intellectual awareness must have

Held me back,

Because I was positive

It could be done by me

Not everyone

But surely me.

Fairies in my pocket

Standing poised,


Edging myself

To the point of action

And hesitating in the act.

Wondering if I might not just be wrong

In my belief.


As it is now.

Wanting to believe that so many things

Are possible.

Holding on to the imagined

But unable to suspend reality just enough to make that leap.

Was that a lesson in how my life

Would be lived?

Enough faith to believe but not

Enough to let go and try.

When does belief become real enough to be


In the thought of it or in the

Act of doing it?