Winter Haiku

Cold lonely night
Crisp white ice
Mushy peas and starlight
Log fire and frost bite.

..............

Sleep

I'd like to go to the land in my dreams
There's no place better,
Well so it seems.
I'd like to ride on that big blue wave
That washes the past and frees the slave.

I want to swing from tree to tree
Like a person finally free,
I need that heat,
That love,
That hurt,
The rest and fight in awkward night.
I'd like to speak my mind at last.

No tone,
No fool,
Just slow but fast,
I feel my life blow away,
In sleepy dreams I need to stay.
I'll find this place each time I cry,
I need this place so I can fly.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I love you

Take a picture of the ideal and lock it inside your heart
I love you
I love you
These beastly words carry a numbing sting
A pain beyond description
It can cast a spell over any man or woman
I love you
I hear it ring
False melody
As beautiful as Lucifer
The fallen angel
I love you
Sweet lies
As real as hedges
Conditioned and restricted
I need you
Undefined hope
As true as religion
There are different interpretations
I love you

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Guitarist

Guitarists’ hands.
His hands move up and down, strumming the guitar strings and expertly
caressing each chord.

He must be an artist,
So nimble, soft with force like making love to every bar.
Each fret quivers as seductively he moves on:

A, D, Em, GM. 1/4

He is experienced, knowingly touching the guitar, predicting the
Strings’ answer before the question

Orgasmically they sing.

He is not an old man, no age spots or visible veins, but he isn't young either.
Visible cuts and calluses show his past, all that his hands know is
this guitar.

I close my eyes to listen to his intense pleasure,
Professional yet free, as if he is expressing his soul through his
hands to my ears

A, D, E.

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