Jaksie.com

Clear View Mirror. . . Even on the easiest days There are intimations of the future Which is fast approaching now, The different parts of the self Accepting what is soon to be. Youth seems a very long way away, Along with the carelessness it finds, But there are other compensations. . . .

Enid Blyton Perfection. . . It is eight o’clock on a Sunday morning And there’s the whole day not touched yet. We’ll have papers to read and coffee to drink There’s doors to unlock and birds to feed Nothing to do and all day to do it in, What more could you ask of the [...]

. Black Hole. . . You can paint any word pictures you please, You can talk unctuously ’til you are blue in the face But it will not change anything, You are a natural killer and you know it. You say you are aware of the weight of the truth, There were reasons that you [...]

This Is The Real Thing. . This world we know Is not a playground, It is a testing ground, A school of thought For who we think we are. It is like a sweet shop With the door unlocked, An electric line-up Of  hanging chickens. We have a full free will To take until we [...]

Snapshot In A Life. . . One of the best memories ever Was deciding to drive up to Beadnell On a beautiful summer’s morning. We took all the Sunday papers, Along with the bar-b-cue, some fat sausages, A few buns and a great big flask of tea, We already had a picnic blanket in the [...]

Beyond Here There Be Monsters. . . No wonder that children Think there are monsters Because I find that Even in our well remembered room There is not enough light To see familiar things And now I find myself Veering back into childhood. . .

Journey’s End. . . As we pass by On the motorway Towards the big town, I see the shape Beside the tangled verge. We are already past it But I wonder what it was, A large badger perhaps Or an unlucky dog Trying to take a shortcut. Sadly, it did work. . .

To Come Upon You Unaware. . . Each time I see you After a short break I am struck once more By how beautiful you are, Even though I know you well It still comes as a shock To see you with fresh eyes, Until I grow used to you again. . .

Wandering Eyes. . . It is hard to speak to her Without being stumped for words, So bemused am I by her nipples, Especially on a cold day. . .

Hush Baby . . Hush baby, go to sleep, I am  here to love you, To keep you safe From harm, For this short time You are mine completely, To feed you, hold you, kiss you And to keep you warm. . . . ..

Spring Clean. . . In the chilly aftermath Of winter’s harsh domination All is left beleaguered and bemused, Dull brown and dried out crispy leaves In slimy carpets underfoot To catch a step unwary. It’s a spring cleaning we need now To polish up the coated paths, Use elbow grease to shift the muck, Then [...]

Fetish. . . Her feet are beautiful, Long, thin and elegant, Showing the length of tendons As she restlessly moves them, Sitting, legs up, on the soft velvet settee Close before the living room stove. One pretty toe, capped with a blood red nail, Is encircled by a silver ring. . .

Mother Russia. . . Her name is Mother Russia She holds their devotion fast, From central cities To the furthest reaches Of her frozen earth. By night, when all is quiet Her children sleep, They sleep, their breathing Matching every rhythm Of her ancient beating heart. . .

So I’m Not Famous. . . So I’m not rich and famous. OK, so I’m not rich and famous. It’s only me after all Living an ordinary life, But I can understand Even people like Hannibal And the mighty Kublai Khan Are dead and gone now ‘Cos it is only a life. But these moments [...]

A Learning Curve. . . The lessons you learn Can be surprising And not the ones intended By an oblivious parent, Not after having observed well During a complete childhood. . .

Bruiser. . . He sits benignly on the garden wall Yawning lazily in the morning sun, Long tail hanging down showily In a foppish dandy curl, Torn ears like hoisted pennants In the aftermath of battle. A hulking Kosset Carpet cat Always keeping a weather eye out. . .

Comedown. . . It’s funny isn’t it. There are things you want And things you create hell for. Time, thought, money and plans All expended upon the total need For being satisfied in the long run. These are things you really want But it can be truly scary to get them. . . . .

It Is All From A To B Anyway. . . Do we welcome A sudden crossroads In the flow of life, Do we look To try the unexpected Unfamiliar road Or follow a Roman plan, Quick between the start And an unexpected end. . .

Second Guess. . . There are definitely Two of me. One is outgoing Spontaneously fun, The other is a secret Wishing only to hide Wrapped in flannel. I tread a middle path Torn between the two, A sort of possibility. . .

Shy Beauty. . . On Saturday afternoon We went for a walk Down by the riverside. It was a cold day, All very stark and wintry With bare sleeping trees And muddy underfoot, But it had a definite beauty Full of nascent promise. One of the big bushes Was wispy and bare boned With a [...]

Dimples. . . She has the cutest dimple On the left cheek of her butt I like the way it winks at me When she walks away from the bed . .

Spanish Don. . . ‘Hola’ he said All flashing eyes All honeyed words And perfect smile, I knew his love Was hackneyed But believed him, For a while. . .

The Faintest Gleam. . . They are fleeting, Touching with a tiny breath Before they disappear, A once in a lifetime, wisp of otherness. You must attend them, Drop everything and make a note, Like diamonds in the rough Looking exactly like something else They come only the once. . . A

Shadows. . . Is it true that We attract What we think about. If nothing else, That should promote Happy thoughts And good intent. Let’s not pursue shadows. . .

Change Of Heart. . Soon I will see you again At the wedding of our friend, By then it will be eleven months Since we broke up. I cannot get to sleep For thinking about it, Worrying about that particular Moment when our eyes meet. Shall my heart stop beating In the aftermath of the [...]

Words Unspoken. . . Did you not read the letter That was written out in acts Of sweet devotion. In all the care that was taken Over the course of many years Of loving service.

Common Experience. . . Clearly, in many ways I am not exactly like you. But, equally, in many ways I am exactly the same. We see with similar eyes The exact same aspects of life. It is only in our reactions to them That we are so  dissimilar. . .