I was an active, prominent architect, like fervent stars which race the sun,
Or exotic, summer flowers that bloom vibrantly, creating rapturous visions.
I'd wrought modernist skyscrapers, as huge trees lean into a bronze glaze,
On raspberry, latter days, quite lovely, when azure blue jays sing in praise.
I had designed homes and buildings, to the plumb delight of stylish people,
While satisfying the favorable environment, with novel, vivid colors, gleeful.
I had built homes for family members, the loved ones who made life sunlit,
......
Without you every morning would feel like going back to work after a holiday,
Without you I couldn't stand the smell of the East Lancs Road,
Without you ghost ferries would cross the Mersey manned by skeleton crews,
Without you I'd probably feel happy and have more money and time and nothing to do with it,
Without you I'd have to leave my stillborn poems on other people's doorsteps, wrapped in brown paper,
Without you there'd never be sauce to put on sausage butties,
Without you plastic flowers in shop windows would just be plastic flowers in shop windows,
Without you I'd spend my summers picking morosley over the remains of train crashes,
Without you white birds would wrench themselves free from my paintings and fly off dripping blood into the night,
Without you green apples wouldn't taste greener,
......
'Love is like Magic and it always will be,
For Love still remains Life's Sweet Mystery!
Love works in ways that are wondrous and strange
And there's Nothing in Life that Love cannot change!
Love can transform the most common place
Into beauty and splendor and sweetness and grace!
Love is unselfish, understanding and kind,
For it sees with its Heart and not with its Mind
Love gives and forgives, there is nothing too much
For Love to heal with its Magic Touch!
......
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thy happiness,---
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
......
Life is like a work of art
That glows with promise at the start.
The canvas seems so cold and bare
But capable of colors rare.
The work requires an artist's touch.
The stroke of genius can add much,
The kiss of an inspired brush.
Converts the bare to an awed hush.
......
I was an active, prominent architect, like fervent stars which race the sun,
Or exotic, summer flowers that bloom vibrantly, creating rapturous visions.
I'd wrought modernist skyscrapers, as huge trees lean into a bronze glaze,
On raspberry, latter days, quite lovely, when azure blue jays sing in praise.
I had designed homes and buildings, to the plumb delight of stylish people,
While satisfying the favorable environment, with novel, vivid colors, gleeful.
I had built homes for family members, the loved ones who made life sunlit,
......
high on a hilltop
stands the castle of the wind
in fuchsia rose mists
enchanted fortress
with a broad moat surrounding
child's fairy tale land
palace of bright stars
when the crescent moon's shining
......
Welcome to another millennium
Two thousand years have past
Since the beginnings in Byzantium
We have held steadfast
We hold the immortal secrets
As guardians of the Stone
We act as our faith befits
And to the world are unbeknown
When the world forsook its magic
......
I was a passionate, aspiring musician, striving quite hard to be a success;
As nature lovers try hard to succeed, at living where pretty flowers press.
Rosy days teemed with activity and planning, bold plans of runaway hours,
When striving, I failed to see all the sights, along paths of red sunflowers.
Many friends were musicians too, all of us eager, for soon days of triumph,
When we would stun like jubilant night, adorned in pearls and diamonds!
My family ever buoyed me up, as they wished for me my wildest dreams,
......
Golden stars tell the story, of still, night's glory,
Twinkling and flashing, in the hours of dreams,
Long after the dazzling sunset, a black cherry,
Full moon's lovely as it's pouring, satiny cream.
Twinkling and flashing, in the hours of dreams,
And filling the night with a kind of black magic,
Full moon's lovely as it's pouring, satiny cream.
The smooth lakes and soft moon flowers gleam.
......