>’cos ya make me

>at times i
just fall, out
of the blue
and drop –
into you,
there’s danger
to drown, to forget

what’s around
and beyond
sunken seas,
funky bliss
drags me deep
until i

can’t breathe,
until i scream softly,
you glow,
flow perilously low
with lips, spelling
peace, sucking
stormy relief
‘til i sigh, ’til i cry,

get lost in the ponds
of your eyes, drizzling
aqua and white,
watermark life,
gambling high,
trading oxygen for
an ace – lucky streak

& storming cleft peaks,
thousand miles
from the shore,
we’ve outrun
the sun,
diving deeper i
hum in
your froth
(‘cos – ya make me)


>Tubular Bells


there was no music in the air,
not really,
just the sound of a sound
which made me mad 
‘cos i hoped i would find
not sure what but
kept scanning tunes and 
endless minutes nothing 
but highway, agression
and the sense of a drug i didn’t take
and don’t understand, dazing 
emissions fog, 
mingle with sun
and the smell makes me vomit
spring-bound winds 
sneakin’ onto my shoulders,
crawl up my arms and i
need it louder,
force gears, heat up, windows down
and stuck in the middle, 
clueless moves – from and to  
i don’t know and don’t care
when he spells – music, questions
with mellow voice, 
words and more words and
that’s where it starts, 
there it is,
magic, it plays, it is me – again
on the map, out on the street, 
close to the sound and
it made sense again

ok – this was me in the car last week when i drove back home from work, listening to Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells – and yes – i was in a strange mood..

linking up with One Shot Wednesday – and – woo-hoo –  yesterday in NYC we won the Shorty Award in Art.. thanks to all of you for your votes, your support and for being around and making One Stop Poetry what it is!

>Made of spectral white – a Rondel

>when rainbow hazes wrap us in
soft tissues, made of spectral white,
my sense turns liquid, drinkin’ night’s
moist breath, i feel exposed and thin,

take cautious steps towards the rim
and balance on diffusing light
when rainbow hazes wrap us in
soft tissues, made of spectral white

so soar upon cleft edges, spin
and glide, do love me mad and fight
this slipping groove, we reach the height
just as our shapes fade pale and slim
when rainbow hazes wrap us in.

today we’re having part II of our Rondel teaching over at One Stop Poetry. have a look, write a Rondel and join us!
Rondel structure:

>all the way down

>it’s not about spanish tunes, lost 

on the floor, hidden in loops on the carpet,
bouncing back from deaf, tired walls like
boozed soldiers when the battle is won.

it’s about fighting, losing and feeling
black lashes brush soft on pale skin and
letting you kiss me all the way down to the
ground, the earth, the real where it started,
where i get quiet, where i feel your strength

burn my night until i can smell again, until
it tastes right, until it was not, it was never 
anything else but you & me on the floor

in the silence, the dark and getting lost on
your lips with what you call love – and it is.




you’re counting in,
bright colors
flood in streams, run
through your hands,
brush licks

across my face,
you’re on – a beat
there’s no escape,
diving the caves,
filled with the mercy
of your waves,
played hard

and drag me on
vast space, knees
givin’ in, unregulated shake,
riding your lust,
forget the past, suck with
covetous lips,
there is

no handrail
on this bridge
you’ve choked my depths,
awash with tears,
sense fingers
moving fast,

riffs blast,
scorching the night
just scaffolds left,
all flashpoints

give in
to groove-strings,
with yearning,
to pacing drums and
brittle winds,
my clothes
already burning.


it’s OneShotWednesday again and i’m happy to host this week’s poetry party. come, write a poem and join this bunch of amazingly talented people over at One Stop. Sign up opens at 5 pm EST

>your heart’s iambic – a Rondel

>your heart’s iambic all the way
da DUM, da DUM it grooves – you hear
sweet tapping music rolling near?
upon your chest, a tender sway

of rhythmic waves, they flood your bay
wade into you, then disappear
your heart’s iambic all the way
da DUM, da DUM it grooves – you hear

their scuttling feet dance vast astray,
go stressed, unstressed without a fear
tip-toe the beat from then to here
i’ m wrapped inside this rap today
your heart’s iambic all the way


This and next Monday at One Stop Poetry Form, we’re going to have a close look at Rondels – some history – some technical information – some writing tips. Jump over there to read and join us..

>it was more


it was more starting than landing,
don’t you think?
all those years,
feathers to stone,
dipped gently into
gold-soaked midday glow
like biscuits
in hot chocolate

until they almost fall apart
like we  
and with rough tongues
tasting of smooth
and timeless moments,
when history gets wings
and starts with stony lungs
to breathe again.

you’re never ready
for that special time, for
capturing the tender magic
until it’s shot and usually
i find it in your eyes
just when i spread
my wings,
don’t you think
it was more,
it was more starting than landing

this poem is my response to the One Stop Poetry Sunday Picture Prompt Challenge. The prompt was shot by photographer & poet James Rainsford. He is the featured artist today on One Stop Poetry.