From Mrs Santa Claus,(a second wife), just before Christmas

Dearest,

This icy forest, soaking wet, is not that on which my heart was set.

Fed up cooking for those wretched elves, tell me why they can't fry up themselves?

So many missives requiring risposte, but no reward for the time I've lost.

No glamorous designer gear, just down and boots and furry hats, a Yeti's mate do I appear...

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Dizzy with sweet yearning perfume

the swooning scent of fragrant orange blossom.

Clump of pink purple-veined mallow flowers

where spied a fire-coated fox snoozing below.

Allseeing  gold-ringed dark amber eyes

looked up and registered me harmless

as I gazed admiringly at his glowing curves.

No stone or pitchfork, gun or snarling dog

so serenely he dropped off again

unders...

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Passing the graveyard's mossy stones

Heard some quite appalling moans.

Coffinwood creaked as they stole out

One giving a cadaver such a clout

I wondered if in an earlier life

The pitiful corpse had belonged to the wife?

Me with saintly image in silver locket

Coarse salt hidden deep in pocket

Silver crucifix brandished high

So evildoers would pass me by.

A garlic ...

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Waiting avidly for unwary prey

Terrifyingly huge, dark and shiny with squat body,

thin sprinter's legs enabling rapid pounces

grabbing his chosen victims.

(he likes them plumpish.)      

Met face to face provoked a shriek,

though he, luckily, was voiceless.

Such an apparition petrifying,

but probably the fright was mutual,

causing him to retreat into his sinister lair

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Forced furiously to undergo a Pre Matrimonial Course

by both Priest and gorgeous harridan intended,

(otherwise the knot remained  undone).

Feeling indignant, resentful and slightly put upon,

the 'married' to him less important than her 'moneyed'.

Honeymoon period over, he grabbed the chance

to take a Post Matrimonial Refresher Course

to avoid early nuptial burnout and collapse...

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Why now always only a rapidly ebbing tide?

No more riotous high water vigorously invading

Or incoming flows to delight the rock pool castaways

No frantic storms lashing waterfalls over the groaning pier wall

No crashing breakers racing to the shore

No white horses neighing fine windswept spray

But always going ever further out and out

Leaving only the bare hard ribs of cemente...

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Relations can't be chosen, they're

the same brood, acquired, new arrivals,

the demented but kindly older ones.

How many snide comments must be swallowed,

incomprehensible pretensions, subtle slights,

words distorted or deliberately misunderstood,

just to maintain a fragile web of support?

When the ever fizzling fuse finally flares

a family spat causes widespread r...

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Seemingly so peaceful a place

with birdsong, birches, and smooth green lawns

verdant with the lake of tears past shed.

But what agonizing long gone secrets

lie hidden below those ramrod white stones?

Lonely deaths in a field, under a hedge, along a dusty road,

seeking animal-like a quiet hidden place undisturbed

to draw that now welcome last breath.

So young, so many l...

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Down by the olive-green river

Basking lazily on the flat, sunwarmed rocks,

Saw him gleefully, jumping, leaping,

splashing, swooping, sliding,

slipping on the water-smoothed pebbles,

in the transparent shallows,.

joyfully barking, soaking wet,

doggily laughing crazily!

He had discovered a new sport,

'Frogging' we called it.

Luckily for both the frogs could spring

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(for a nightingale)

Tossing in redhot sheets

with two granite pillows,

every sleepless night

he keeps faith and enchants.

Such a silvery crystal song

better performed than any tenor

so many perfect variations.

But no fool he, this minute brown bird,

his lovely lust only let loose

on balmy spring nights.

Never when just cold blackness

filled only by harsh owl shr...

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When will we see the clear blue sky again?

All living in a frightful fog of fear, always

remembering the long lorryloads of coffins,

avoiding and even distrusting ever familiar faces.

Where might they have been?

Who might they have been with?

What might they have touched?

Shopping become a hazardous trolleytrip,

checkout girl now avoiding eye contact,

worried that a wisp...

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Where has it gone to, I'd like to know?

No precipitous flight, but a gradual perishing.

But then I see the young girls flirting  in the park

who must have magically stolen it away.

Chestnut hair, lapislazuli eyes, petal skin,

dècolletè with pomegranate breasts,

hourglass waist, now just a waste,

once able to pick and choose.

So you luscious lasses, heed me I beg.

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The dead garden where birds sing no more.

Alas, it pleasure gives no longer,

lost and gone forever,

now just an enclosed emptiness.

High stone walls protecting still

but only tufted grasses swaying now,

where once was such delight.

No wasps guarding glossy brambles

or squabbling thrushes feasting on the cherry.

The tiny burn now murmurs lonely

flowing through into the...

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 Slumping tweedcapped on his bench

gnarled mottled hands on walkingstick,

far off she wandered, swaying slightly.

Lithe and lovely with slim brown thighs

tantalisingly appearing disappearing

from slits in a flowery gipsy dress,

a cascade of breezeblown dark hair.

He saw a gracious gust remove the dress,

another the tiny lacy things, and then a vision!

She came to hi...

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Can such deep dark eyes

like peat river pools

make their desire so plain?

They certainly can.

But, regretfully withholding

considering too long

how many lives might be hurt

far more than only mine.

So forgot, or at least tried to

those pleading dark eyes

but secreted them away

as something very precious.

Warm and consoling

to quicken sluggish b...

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