Realm of the elm

There’s no-one there
to wipe away my tears.
No-one to care
who’ll alleviate my fears.
There’s no tender voice
to tell me it’s okay.
I made my choice
to walk the other way.
Away from the one
who could not tell
how I flew into the sun,
to await the tolling knell.
Death has become me
I can hear its call.
I sense the urgency,
feel the pressing pall.
As a stake is driven
deep into my soul,
love and life are riven,
out of my control.
Hold out your hands,
call me to your realm;
to far off meadowlands
to rest beneath the elm.
There, to lay at peace;
no more this weary world,
where once, upon my knees,
the angry daemons whirled.

Squeeze Me, Please

It’s amusing to muse
as the poetry flows
Appealing to peal
as I ring out my prose
Enchanting to chant
as the mantras I call
Alluding to lewd
as inhibitions fall
Amazing to maze
sometimes twisting and turning
Licensing senses
as I feel the yearning
To riddle or rid
the thoughts tumbling round
Playing with wordplay
as feet leave the ground

Grateful for Grae
(although he’s absurd)
Appreciate his precious
encouraging word
Shower him, to show
for a special birthday
I present this present
and whisk him away
to a castle to cast
away all of his stress
Swearing to wear
my sexiest dress
Squeezing closer to Squeeze
on an Atlantic shore
with a doggerel dog
and another one who is rather scruffy and eats poo,
but who we adore nonetheless.

Happy (early) Birthday!

Let’s get this road trip on the road.

Day off… or is it?

When the new year began
I made a grand plan
To post something every day
On each of my sites
And try as I might
I’m struggling to find things to say

Should I be witty
Or just write a ditty?
I’m finding I don’t have much time
“Or do I?” I ask
As I get through this task
Today’s ‘day off’ post turned into rhyme!