Her Delight

I had a brief visit from my muse tonight, and she’s left me this little piece. It’s somewhat abstract, and yet again I don’t think I’ve captured the images she attempted to convey, but I hope you like it.

She paints the roses, not for love,
But for the very reason that
The colors scattered here about
Are not to her delight.

She warms the rain drops, as they fall,
And for the very reason that
A shower in a cooling fall
Is not to her delight.

She parts the clouds in thundered sky,
Just for the very reason that
The sunlight gone from silken skin
Is not to her delight.

She paints the river, not for art,
But for the very reason that
The water flowing far away
Is not to her delight.

She takes the world, all for her own
And for the very reason that
She’ll keep it hidden in her heart
Just for her own delight.


We All Howl At The Moon

Dark dreams do come, and voices rise,
When night arrives too soon.
Alone with thoughts of what has past,
Our faces lit as cheap faux glass,
We all howl at the moon.

Against the will of stubborn world,
We play our dying tune.
Where is the hope that serves our hearts,
The dreams we hold and pray they last,
We all howl at the moon.

Caught up in fights against the tide,
The rising waves of doom.
Such gathered fools who test our will,
Who laugh along with feelings ill,
We all howl at the moon.

Power kept by those in thrall
To money’s sickly bloom.
And though we rage that it’s unfair,
The unkind world just doesn’t care,
We all howl at the moon.

A madness swift to overtake
The grinning of the loon.
A life of trials will drive us mad,
There’s nothing worse than world gone bad,
We all howl at the moon.


Another one that popped into my head, more or less fully formed and posted here without editing. Not sure if I like it, but my muse seems to have decided to pay me a visit so I’ll keep riding the train of inspiration while it’s here.

Abstract expression of feelings well bought,
Not able to hide the true nature of thought,
Who guessed that the lies would be easy to spot,
When the time of the heroes is quickly forgot.

Paint me a picture of seas far away,
Where interesting people drink to the new day,
And when all the madness has swallowed us whole,
Our minds will be willing to forge a new goal.

The scuttling people who swindle and cheat,
All claiming its skill and they think on their feet,
The lords in their manors who laugh like sick drains,
Not knowing that greed is a bruise on the brain.

They’re not for the taking these images here,
But given with pleasure to overcome fear,
And what of the fools who still dance while they burn,
Why they will be saved if they’re willing to learn.

So drink to the masses of who can’t see the truth,
The half broken oldies, the belligerent youth,
As long as there’s some of us willing to strive,
We’ll cling to the joy and the hope so alive.


I fantasise ’bout peace and love,
From Lennon’s song Imagine;
But life with all its kicks and stabs
Makes sure of one reaction;
A raging ‘gainst the day to day,
The pettiness of people;
How can a race hope to improve
And treat all kinds as equal?

We victimise the lower class,
And those of lesser station;
Those with all and everything
Control the living nation;
What chances do the normal have,
Those struggling with living;
What can we do to ease the pain
And promote a world of giving?

The politics of social change,
The crying of the needy;
Ignored by those with bonuses
The evil and the greedy;
With dark despair I face the day,
All hope of changes fading;
The effectiveness of charity
Withdrawing and degrading.

Come join with me my fellow man,
And make the change we’re needing;
Together with a strengthened will
We’ll listen to those pleading;
As Lennon said those years ago,
You may think me a dreamer;
But if these dreams will make a change
Then I’ll gladly be that dreamer.

Watching The World Go By

He sits to watch
the world go by,
with cynics leer
and artists eye.

Colours dart from
clothes and such,
a laughing face,
a lovers touch.

But nought from this
disturbed parade,
will lighten load
nor soul to save.

His mood is black
with scowling brow,
he can’t abide
this maddening crowd.

To approach this man
would a folly be,
his storm cloud face
so clear to see.

Best avoid his
artists eye,
as he sits to watch
the world go by.