expectations...




disappointments


waiting


to


happen









































no


situation


ever


parallels


our


prevision


of


it









































i


was


so


pissed


off


with


the


whole


thing


i


threw


it


into


the


corner


!









































i


 dis-solve


into


you









































is


it


possible


to


love


someone


intensely


and


yet


dislike


them


a


lot


at


the


same


  time ?


i


think


so









































the


bloated


sickly


moon


smiled


down









































i


feel


like


death




does


he


feel


like


me









































joy


has


gone


out




like


a


candle


flame




snuffed


by


one


blow




leaving


darkness









































our


sexual


nature


so


completely


at


odds


with


our


intellect









































all


i


have


to


do


to


see


tragedy




is


look


down


my


lane





cancer


infidelity


alcoholism


blindfaith


and


slow


demented


death




turning


inward


they


are


all


there









































what


a


sad


old


bitch


she


is




look


at


her


now




straggling


hair


hung


over


her


brow



tears


trickling


down


lines


etched


in


her


face




wouldn't


you


think


she'd


have


more


grace





wailing


at


mirror


and


lover


alike




far


better


to


tell


him


to


“ get


on


his


bike ”









































a sunbeam thro black skies









































we've


run


through


all


our


possibilities




come


back


full


circle





as


much


the


same


as


differant




spirals


within


spirals









































trying


to


hold


on




to


what


was


never


grasped









































of


pure


imagination




dissipating


like


a


mist




so


wraith


like


was


her


lover




he


barely


left


her


kissed









































pale


snail like


emerging


into


sun




be-dazzled


frazzled


now


on


the


backward


run




back


into


that


hollow


space




that


room


for


only


one


place




where


it


all


begun









































it's


interesting


insightful


actually




what


things


of


imagination


you


choose


to


keep




and


which


you


choose


to


throw


away









































a homily reply



andrew writes




life's



a



farce



if



you



don't



feel



and


a



tragedy



if



you



do !




i



favour




not


feeling !







my reply



you


cannot


separate


farce


from


tragedy


a


lot


of


tragedy


is


farcical


and


farce


quite


tragic









































another's


tragedy


and


grief


might


appear


romantic


echoed


in


their


eyes




the


reality


of


one's


own


is


gut


wrenching


and


ugly




not


romantic


at


all


unless


viewed


on


the


outside


and


non


involving


of


self









































i


saw


it


all


'twas


pre


ordained


the


tearing


up


of


this


love


so


stained




already


ragged


now


too


care


worn


how


else


could


i


end


up


but


forlorn









































alice


thro


the


looking


glass


might


very


well


be


me





and


when


i


lived


in


wonderland


i


cried


a


million


seas









































think


ill


give


up


men


and


take


up


poetry




with


it


i'll


learn


to


fly









































no


empty


receptical !





rather


a


cut

glass




vase


full


of


flowers





me









































sun


and


showers


cycled


thro


the


flowers


in


my


garden




with


out


so


much


as


a


by


your


leave




or


even


“ i


beg


your


pardon ”









































shouting


doesn't


make


truth


of


a


lie









































give


up


your


quest


yon


knight




it


is


to


no


avail




the


dragon


is


the


girl


you


seek




the


girl


an


un

true


tale









































no


longer


blinkered


i


see


my


companion


in

sanity


apathy


blindness


and


death









































spider


webs


and


dust !




far


from


the


days


filled


with


passion  “not lust”



now


this


not


new


marriage




a


broken


wheeled


carriage



is


empty


of


all


except


must









































at


the


backs


of


tall


houses


the


allotments


stood



on


a


stretch


of


waste


ground


in


tangled


scrubby


wood





scruffy


plots


of


of


cabbage


stumps


and


waterlogged


weeds




surrounded


by


low


railings


not


serving


any


needs









































a


pale


moon


casts


a


thin


cold


radiance









































i'm


not


stupid


he's


not


subtle


only


in


his


wildest


dreams


could


i


believe


in


his


rebuttal









































words


that

 just more of the same
freeze


my


blood









































it's


not


a


matter


of


choosing


to


be


with


a


wanker


or


not




it's


choosing


which


wanker




Hmm...


it


is


a


matter


of


choosing


to


be


with


a


wanker


or


not









































no


one


believes


in


his


lies


as


whole


heartedly


as


the


liar


Himself


tho


there


is


an


occasional


repressed


recognition


of


the


underlying


reality









































can't


stay



can't


walk


away



how


will


it


end



this


tragi


comic


play




---------------------------




can't


stay



can't


walk


away



there


is


no


end



to


this


tragi


comic


play









































exhaled


breath


plumes


in


the


frigid


light


of


dawn









































silver


birch




solitary


silent


sentinal


stands




a


wraith


pale


moon


looks


down




---------------------------




a


silver


birch



silent


sentinel



stands


alone



wraith


pale


moon


looks


down









































a


full


moon


bright


on


a


bone


cold


night









































pleasure


and


rhythm


are


out


of


my


grasp


reassurance


is


nowhere


to


be


found









































you've


always


been


an


unusual


creature





lover


hunter


poet


and


preacher





amoeba


seaslug


mud


skipper


ape





rip


van


winkle


not


quite


awake





three


inches


high


yet


ten


feet


tall





oh


the


ways


i


love


you


all









































a


sweet


melancolia


now


fills


my


evening


air




why


could


i


not


clearly


see


what


was


always


there









































i


saw


everything


in


the


garden


that


day


and


it


set


me


free









































i


put


her


away


from


me




the


child


who


refused


to


see




what


my


life


was


meant


to


be




no


longer


her


i


am


now


me









































as


certainties


fell


into


place


i


felt


upon


me


settled


grace









































as


your


words


fell


into


place




i


felt


the


spell


fall


from


my


face









































poems





boo


hoo


i


lost


2


day


dreaming


about


u


;o)









































my


mind


as


boundless


as


my


body


bound









































our


love


be


midnight


blue



as


rare


as


tis'


true









































some



things



fell



into



place



while



working



in



my



garden





there



is



no



need



for



futile



tears





nor



for



my



heart



to



harden











































sometimes


i


lose


sight


of


us


but


it


always


comes


back









































we


were


meant


for


each


other


because


there


is


no


one


else









































boundaries





struck


by


sunshine


and


sudden


thought


bent


over


in


my


garden






those


words


you


spoke


on


your


birthing


day


my


leaden


heart


ne'r


hardens






air


full


of


song


and


clear


blue


sky


perfumed


flowers


like


my


spirits


die





cs lewis


on


a


sunny


day



no


longer


reminds


me


of


childhood


play









































andrew writes :




women



are



so



special



and



unique



they



horrify



me !



-----------------------



my reply :



men


are


so


limited


borish


and


predictable


i


still


find


that


hard


to


digest









































doctors


used


to


use


leeches


to


bleed


their


patients


now


they


are


leeches


that


bleed


their


bank


accounts









































memories


gather


poignancy


like


dust









































whispering


green




tinkling


stream




wet


velvet


leaves




nod


in


the


breeze









































water


ripples


gently



over


rounded


mottled


stones



brown


and


amber



ochre


yellow









































wind


chimes


crystals



winked


in


the


sun



like


a


handful


of


diamonds




thrown


up



suspended


in


space









































never


love


an


adolescent


male



they're


cruel


and


hurtful


things




take


great


delight


in


causing


pain




and


pulling


off


love's


wings









































what


streak


of


madness


does


it


take




what


kind


of


creature


does


that


make




spite


mixed


in


with


tar


black


despair




a


broken


child


left


standing


there









































to


hurt


me


so


on


today


of


all


days



you


took


delight


in


your


own


little


way





to


bring


you


gifts


i


spent


my


time



you


trashed


my


feelings


oh


so


fine









































oh


callow


youth



you


callous


prick




thorn in my side



why


do


you


smell


as a rose


unto


me




while


your


rotting core


blackens


all


you touch









































misty


sun


shone


on


dappled


silver


bark


tiny


new


leaves


made


an


answering


shadow


on


emerald


grass









































the


first


mild


sunshine


of


spring


brings


a


frisson


of


excitement


and


promise