Such A Pretty Little Thing

She now lies
Where the honeysuckle
Grow and where
No man threads
As he has no
Reason to.

Such a pretty,
Little thing she was,
With skin the colour
Of copper newly minted
And features that
Were no different
From her ancestors
Who lived on the
Land way before the
White man brought
Misery.

Such a pretty,
Little thing.
He would watch her,
He would lust for her,
And even though
He tried to crush
The desire to claim her
To use her, the desire
Crushed him.

He took her.
He claimed her.
He used her
'til all that was left
Was a ragdoll
Bruised
And used.
And like an old
Play thing he disposed
Of her.

He buried her
Among the honeysuckle
So that always
Flowers would be
At her grave,
That was the only
Pleasant thing he
Ever did for her.

Such a pretty,
Little thing that
Will never come home.

Tell Me A Lie [VIDEO]

Tell Me A Lie is from the section Love Hurts in the book, She Wanted A Love Poem, which is available as an ebook and a print book. Click one of the following links to get your copy.

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The Words

When the words
Won't come,
When a dam has
Formed with the
Debris of everyday life,
Stopping the flow
Of words from
Mind to hand
To pen to paper.

When the words
Won't come,
When my mind
Is full and
My tongue is empty,
And a pressure
To express builds
Up to volcanic
Proportions, alas,
With no relief.

When the words
Won't come,
When the muse
Has gone on
Vacation without
Giving notice and
I am left with
A blank page
And a ready pen.

Then they come,
These words.
In rapid succession,
Tumbling one over
The other and still
They make sense
On the canvas
That is lined for
Them.

They come,
These words.
Good, bad,
Indifferent.
Colourful, Drab,
Descriptive.
They are all here,
All present and
All mine.



The words
Have come,
Would you care
To read them?

Never

The dogs barked
In the distance,
And one by one
Their yips and yaps
Were decreasing
'Til there was none
And the deafening
Silence.

A coldness wrapped
Itself about me
And I knew
He was here.

Let me in,
Little one.

His voice rumbled
Setting little knick
Knacks to scatter about
The small cottage
I called home.

Let me in,
So that we may talk.

He lies so easily.
As easily as taking
A sip of water
From the well that never
Emptied.

I held my tongue
And hid in the
Secret compartment
Built for this exact
Occasion.

An occasion
They said would
Never come, but
I knew better.
I knew the time
Would come when
He would return
To these parts.

Let me in,
Little one.
It makes no sense
To delay the inevitable.

I braced myself
For what was to come,
I braced myself
For the madness
He was about to unfurl
About me.

It started with
Winds that howled
Like Banshees,
Then the earth shook
As though the giants
Had returned to the land.

From the cracks
In my compartment
Hidden in the floor,
I saw the blue
Sky claw through
The thatched roof
'Til nothing remained
But the never ending
Blue.

Then I saw him,
He had not changed
From the bearded man
With pitch black eyes
Who killed my father
And my father's father.

Kneeling down,
He peered at me
As I peered back
At him.

Little one,
Come out,
Come,
We have so much
Matters to speak on.

He smiled,
His teeth bloodied
From the carnage
That he had inflicted.

Come closer.

It was but a whisper,
Words so easily
Stolen by a passing
Breeze.

Come closer,
I said much louder.

Leaning forward,
He was now on
All fours, his face
But inches away
From mine.

What is it,
Little one?
What is it
You want to say
Before you die?

And like that,
He disposed of
His mild deception.

Through a crack,
A dart flew, finding
It's mark in an eye
Of midnight.

A growl of disgust
Escaped snarled lips
As his head pitched
Back.

What childish game
You play, little one?
He snarled as he
Pulled the needle-
Thin wood from his eye.

If torture and death
Be childish game,
Then they are the games
I play.

I peered at him,
Watching as his eye
Discoloured, then liquified,
Dripping out of its
Socket.

Do you feel pain?
I asked with somber
Tones.

Never, he growled.

Do you accept
Mortality?

Never.

Are you afraid
Of dying?

Never.

The toxin spread
Quickly 'til the one
Word he spoke
Was uttered by a
Skull with one eye.

Do you accept
That you are now
Dead?

Not one answer
Did I receive from
The skeleton above me,
Stripped of flesh,
Muscle, cartilage,
Organs, etc.

I killed him
As he had killed
My father and
My father's father.
And still, I prayed
His journey to the
Unknown was a safe one.

One from which
He would never
Return.

If only
He were
The last
Of them.

Do You Believe

Do you believe
In dreams?

Those pretty little things
That flutter in and out
Of your existence.

The sweet, delightful
Things that melt away
Under the unyielding
Sun of reality.

Those things you put
Aside for those things
That are related to
Everyday life, the
So-called responsibilities.

Those things that
Seem impossible,
Improbable, irrational
And yet they pick at
You like a guitar player
Picking at strings.

Do you?
Do you believe
The impossible is possible?

Do you believe
That you deserve those
Pretty, sweet, irrational
Things called dreams?

Do you believe
That your dreams are
Possible?

Do you believe
In your dreams?

Untitled

Head thrown back,
Arms extended,
She spun around,
Faster and faster
Until she fell down
In a fit of giggles.

In the past,
I would have rushed
To get her, to dust
The dirt off of
Bruised knees,
Hips, whatever.

I didn't,
In fact,
I sat back
And chuckled
Before taking a sip
Of lemonade,
The ice shifting
In the sunlight.

With the ticking
Of time, seconds,
Minutes, hours,
I grew to understand
That this was her
Adventure. In
The days, weeks,
Years, I accepted
That it was not
In my place to
Interpret the world
For her, but to
Allow her to discover
It and all its
Glory and madness.

With cupped hands,
She rushed towards me,
Soon to reveal
A creature yet to
Be identified, its
Diminutive body squirming
In her soft hands.

She would ask me
What it was and
I would answer, truthfully,
Knowing there will be a time
When she will be asking
Not about a thing that
Could fit in her hand,
But things that unfurled
In her mind, body and
Soul and once more
I would answer truthfully.

After the creature
Had been returned
To its life,
After the lemonade
Had been consumed.
After the sun
Had set,
This little girl with
My nose and his eyes
Would tuck herself
Into my arms and
I would savour
The moment because
It, they never last.

Morning

A rooster's call
Broke through my dreams
At the wee hours of
The morning and ripped
Me out.

It left me blinking
To see the LED
Numbers of my alarm
Clock that was
Deprived of the
Duty of ending my
Slumber.

Three minutes to
Spare. Three minutes
Shy of the blaring
Beep, beep, beep,
Or was it
Beep, bip, beeeep?

Whatever it was,
I waited patiently
For it to deliver
A death blow
To my nocturnal
Mega nap.

And just as I grew
Tired of a minute
Turning into another,
My eyes were shut
And dreams creeped
Into the empty spaces
Of my mind.

Only to be rudely
Shown the door by
The insistent
Beep, beep, beep,
(Or was it
Beep, bip, Beeeep?)
Of my alarm clock.

With a groan,
I join the masses
To another day
On the hamster wheel
Of life.

We Shared.

She dreams in
Shades of sepia
And I dream in
Technicolour madness.

Yet somewhere
In the differences
Heaped between us
Wh found something
To share.

In sharing we
Found love.
Not a light,
Flighty love but
The kind of love
That was heavy
And meaningful.

A love that had
Many layers of
Conditions but at
Its core it was
Unconditional.

A love that
Fought,
Hurt,
Failed and
Triumphed
Then failed again,
But somehow
It was still
Winning.

And as her
Shades of sepia
Began to be invaded
By rude colours of
Red and neon green,
And mine grew softer
In this part and that,
The differences became less
And the similarities became more.

There was always
One thing we shared,
Love.