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Doodles Deny.

There’s this flower

amongst many, adorning the page

where your name lies.

I don’t know why they grow

from the pen; curling up

engulfing the space

where words should make sense.

They don’t grow, don’t flow

like flowers – vines tangling

strangling around petals

filling white with

pretty uselessness.

They curl and dance where

sentences should lie

denying you the truth that I can’t bring

myself to write.

I watch them now – overgrown

with a ferocity of ink

that cannot, will not

leave a blot on us.

Maybe I could say it all with flowers.

Say it all the more sweeter…

letting doodles, deny.


Lovers, Crossing Stars.

Let’s meet at a quarter to three
sail the seven seas

in a shoe

I’ll budge up, make room.

Let’s swig red wine from the bottle.
Socks’ll go and from your toe;
a fishing line.

We can cook what we catch, the
heat from a match…
our fire.

Burning desire.

I’m a little giddy, thinking
about that.

Just don’t make it a fish.

Catch a wish
make us fly
casting white shadows
over night.

This night.

And together,
we’ll guide in the ships.

The Mermaid

Dividing oceans have never been an issue
until there was you
and it is only now that the waves
crash with the thunder of my own
heart, that I wish
I were a Mermaid.

No amount of water would
keep me from your side
as I dance in symmetry
with the creatures of the deep
driving the force of my attraction
with a tail of love.

I would sing a call for
your ears only
breathing romance from
beneath the surface.
My lungs,
filled with a burning desire,
oxygenate with emotive charge.

And when I reach your shore
I will see with a
crystal clarity
that only a Mermaid can remedy adoration
from afar.

So yes.

Because of you…

That is my wish. As I sit
cross legged,
disappointed that my sea ones
aren’t stronger.


that such mythical beings remain
just that.

The Merry Go Round.

I ride a horse

with crimson feathers

and you kneel in the


patiently watching

me ride

all Godiver and no


Shocking that you

should see a dismount

at such a speed

as we are at,

merrily going



to the sound

of an organ

that plays us.

Again and again.