She fell so fast, she could have been on fire

And the stars that watched told tales of her descent;

She hit the ground with sound of earthen choir

With muddied feet (she'd landed in the mire)

She runs until her energy is spent;

She fell so fast, she could have been on fire

She'll never die, but burns upon her pyre

As her flesh draws bird of prey with burning scent;

She hit the ground with sound of earthen choir

If you saw her you would deem your sight a liar,

But you'd somehow understand what all this meant;

She fell so fast, she could have been on fire

And the ground is ash, the sky a burnt reminder

That the branch will fall down as the tree is bent;

She hit the ground with sound of earthen choir

So when you see a star that falls from higher,

Remember how she fell and where she went;

She fell so fast, she could have been on fire;

She hit the ground with sound of earthen choir

the darkness circles ever closer still

the starlight twinkles, dims and fades to black

if only death could be vanquished by will

it cannot be and so we drink our fill

to numb our brains and hearts till mouths fall slack

the darkness circles ever closer still

the warmth of firewater leaves a chill

a wandering soul way off the beaten track

if only death could be vanquished by will

though hope be strong time cannot help but kill

like bodies ripped and torn upon a rack

the darkness circles ever closer still

like Jack and Jill we’re falling down a hill

in empty space till flat upon our back

if only death could be vanquished by will

and yet, perverse, we feast upon Grim’s thrill

we curse and spit and step upon the crack

the darkness circles ever closer still

if only death could be vanquished by will

I thought I knew what love was then.

Or at least what it was for...

Yet it strikes me raw again.

When I was little, maybe ten,

I daydreamed what might lay in store...

I thought I knew what love was then.

I thought I'd known the best of men.

I thought I'd felt this flight before...

Yet it strikes me raw again.

D'you recall that first glance when

We locked minds sweetly, wanting more?

I thought I knew what love was then.

Each word; each ink-stroke from your pen

Always cuts me to the core...

Yet it strikes me raw again.

When life threw you a lion's den

It felled my heart right through the floor.

I thought I knew what love was then.

Yet it strikes me raw again.

oh, i’m afraid my patience is spent

for the world has too heavy a hand,

and it is the past i’ve come to lament.

old days of sunlit skies and hours content

i am a hungry body aching for love without remand,

but I’m afraid that patience is already spent.

if your patience were a thing of torment

i would recognise it, as the cheek knows the hand

love’s absence echoes, wailing in red lament.

recall the days i’ve darkened your door, bent

half over, swimming in brine and unable to stand.

you said quick - “i’m afraid my patience is spent”

didn’t you? quick to flee, these fickle creatures we pretend

to be; in love and unconditional on demand.

we must become figments to love, i lament. i lament.

sweet, i remember the touch of love once meant

for me, and me alone - though memory is cruel and

i’m afraid my patience is long spent.

such is the past i’ve come to lament.

I wonder what the future bring.

Complexity abound, the rules unfair

The villanelle's what did me in

The air stirrs cold, my ears they ring,

This storm within, leaves failings bare,

I wonder what the future bring.

The tigress' call, the bitter sting,

Compelled by challenge, eyes that glare,

The villanelle's what did me in.

Lacrimose, the poison' doubtful win,

I shall attempt to write with care,

I wonder what the future bring.

How sharp it turns, my muse akin,

To snakes, their tongues fork here and there,

The villanelle's what did me in.

Poems haunt, like rabbid jinn

Upon a line they have my soul ensnare,

I wonder what the future bring,

The villanelle's what did me in.

----------------------------

He shot the apple , William Tell,

Loose the bolt , and did not miss,

I try to suit a villanelle.

When told of what the bank befell

They need have asked if he was Swiss,

He shot the apple , William Tell,

Would that i could learn to spell,

I find my talent's value , piss,

I try to suit a villanelle..

It was no time to buy and sell,

The markets off, the fires' hiss

He shot the apple , William Tell,

The cannibals i got, my class rebel

It is no fun , so t'get some bliss,

I try to suit a villanelle..

Why not in words, his rage to quell?

When shall this moral failure cease?

He shot the apple , William Tell,

I try to suit a villanelle..

-----------++--++++-+++-+-

The lacrimose toad asked in croak

What's the point of this long haul?

No one answered, none then spoke.

Life's been harsh, hence stirred I in the yoke,

Is there refuge 'twards i could aim and crawl?

The lacrimose toad asked in croak.

yearn I, to learn; of logic's stream to soak,

If to rise once, must it be to fall?

No one answered, none then spoke.

Is there no answer, not a glimmer i could grok?

Could on better vistas pull my heart in moving sprawl?

The lacrimose toad asked in croak

Where's the beauty, in the artichoke?

In a villanelle, 'pon

In a villanelle, 'ponn tigers scrawl?

No one answered, none then spoke.

Croaked he questions, to provoke,

Manifested here in swamplike drawl,

The lacrimose toad asked in croak

No one answered, none then spoke.

The end of June has left me feeling numb

as nature grieves my loss in bitter rain,

yet still I wait for better days to come.

Their words to me are in a static hum.

I smile with feelings I am forced to feign.

The end of June has left me feeling numb.

Alone again, I hear the steady drum

of crying rain against the windowpane,

yet still I wait for better days to come.

They start to tell me off for being glum

like I have lost my right for feeling pain.

The end of June has left me feeling numb.

Despite its cloudy skies and anxious thrum,

my body beats against its tethered chain,

yet still I wait for better days to come.

Finally, my loss in the lives of some

just now becomes another blurry stain.

The end of June has left me feeling numb,

yet still I wait for better days to come.

For the girl was painted in Red

Upon a strong backing of white

As though the artist had bled

The picture that came from his head

Was of a lonely and grieving sight

For the girl was painted in Red

The girl had no pain she could shed

As though nothing could make it right

As though the artist had bled

And onto the bright canvas instead

Was the forewarning of a blight

For the girl was painted in Red

As if in memory of someone who had fled

From an embrace that was all too tight

As though the artist had bled

As though the thought sprung him from bed

And with his grief and pain he had to fight

For the girl was painted in red

As though the artist had bled

Divest yourself of burdens, lay them down.

When young we had no duties to attend,

For you nor I are fit to wear a crown.

But ho! The carefree smile became a frown.

We harkened to a raging wind’s new tone.

Divest yourself of burdens, lay them down.

To shove aside our troubles, we would clown,

Attempt to cast our cares aside in jest.

For you nor I are fit to wear a crown.

Maturing yet, we rose to great renown.

We shouldered all the woes for all the world.

Divest yourself of burdens, lay them down.

The green leaf, as the winds blew on, turned brown,

And seasons bore urgently, unyielding.

For you nor I are fit to wear a crown.

Then did we not wish problems all to drown?

Would that we’d not endeavored overmuch.

Divest yourself of burdens, lay them down,

For you nor I are fit to wear a crown.