Bought some Bergamot that problems can bring For too much money my parents hinted Might over rule the soundest, best thinking But the incense I've bought, let it be said For more wealth for you, word-smith wealth for me Doesn't seem against nature, or man, nor God. With much thinking of you, your thoughts freely Visit me, though spirit not body's odd - Do you kiss me? Does your hair touch my brow? Never have my thoughts been this delightful. Oh tonight Bergamot will bring each hour Riches beyond wishing, beyond earth's soul Oh and if more money corrupting comes Let's in our corruptness spend till it numbs!
The day mirrors your love as mirrors do Not first hand with kisses yet clearly well And sitting alone the search brings sighs new; I count the signs like a banker can dwell On misplaced funds found, not found by pure luck. Your beauty drives me to look back deeply So not to miss one ray the mirror's struck. Once found the love-thoughts, love-actions please me And I marvel at earth's love's warmth and grace. Would your kiss bring such delight? I wonder. Oh yes! yes! but the act I must retrace - The mirror would cloud from breathing closer. The day mirrors your love as mirrors can; I tremble at what a kiss might make this man.
Oh who is that outside my bedroom door? Who can it be but Love's Spirit for me; Candles lit, incense wafting - which called more? I might seem eager but to gain entry Where is your name-sake? Promise me she'll come. 'Let me stay till morning and we will see.' I might seem eager but she and I are one; I fear by break of day forgetful I'll be. 'You treasure love and love you'll have tonight And I will pass on our passion to her.' What passes this night will surely flame her heart But hide from her excesses that might deter. Oh Love's Spirit I know I'm in love with Love Yet whole love I want - Yes! love, I want all of.
Lord Byron, troubled yet passionate poet, Handsomest of men with a flaw that knifed Into your soul - we all have a cleft foot - We must beware of those 'Have not' they've said. Trickery is used to devour not love; In nature openess is beautiful - True deceit's there, an underhanded move - Praps there's no good or bad in nature's call? And it's all in the minds of men - beware! But harm caused through deceit surely cuts deep. Love is best open, love is best aware, Love on a sure footing avoids lovers'-weep. Lord Byron my love and I dare tell all - Take off our shoes and all defenses fall.
Tonight my mind's slow; well your quick mind knows My winter before spring, my winter rest. Youth's outside, in my prime inside I chose Not to savage you with poetry's waged best Rather show love that millions of ways show Yet one alone like the sun hiding warms With its power and goodness rivalling earth's go. In mellow mood, not wishing circling arms But rather love shows that show arms lessons - Never removed, never tiring, never! Yes, never unsensing, parents not sons Nor daughters to Love - could I be so clever? Tonight my mind's slow; your quick mind knows well Though hearts, my heart 'I love you' can long tell.
Don't fear failure in Love's hands held proudly Unless such feelings lead to faster ends Unless only seconds will is stilled deathly 'Such fear's not weakness, such fear Love commends.' Yes! Love that's loved lightly is not our wish - A feather's tickle matches not fond holds, The lover with two minds halves Love's sweet dish. Yes! fear forever (for a moment) folds Then know your love and beauty has won me - The blood of wars, the full moon lost, can't shake. Yes! I've feared but not after eyes did see The sweet peace in your moon eyes that Love makes. With fear dispensed and failure discounted Nothing bars the door to a candlelit bed.
I held the hand of Dream today, Tuesday; You held his other hand and walked with me. I held gently and tickled that he may Pass it on to show dreams connect truly. I'll hold the hand of Dream Wednesday too And be pleased if you pass back a message. Hold the hand of Dream everyday - will you? See the sunlight colour Dream's hair and gauge The warmth with which Dream laughs at our desires. Let's hold Dream's hand from Monday to Sunday - Dream loves lovers, loves love that never tires. He has connections with bright future's say. I'd hold the hand of Dream without meaning If you were not holding too with yearning.
These are the best times - but are they really? If I think they are, they are, yes! they are. Yet the act of love's no closer to me - Surely the kiss, while the kiss takes one far, In the actual act of kissing, it's then We're in the best moment or second best? Now earth and sky speak through your heart often - Happiness this hour shines from your caress As words of your voice wander all 'round me - Born are the children of my tomorrow; Eye wrinkles from smiles, large heart - born proudly. These are the best times - they can't be bettered Unless love's said with a kiss, pre-love's word.
I Look in her eyes and say with my eyes 'Let's make love never made before' But she hints neither yes or no - no sighs. Some men would look in her eyes one time more And their eyes would say what they shouldn't say But I look with a smile and my smile knows Though her lips are silent it's best to stay. Some men would leave her side nursing their woes And miss the look in her eyes that said less But more of her heart that moment of time. Better than to bed her I must confess Is her heart smile now, later her sublime. When men look for gold and their pick strikes stone It's foolish to forsake the mine and moan.
The Possum Your beauty brings sun to this wintery place, Your song pleases those even underground - Pardon I watch you in feathers like lace. The Bird You are strong and listen and love my sound - That you watch means I'm wanted not wasted. This song's for you, this dance no one else sees. The Possum I'll leave on the ground a leaf and twig bed; Tell me all your needs so you I can please - I can make loud noises to scare off foe. The Bird You are romantic and have much passion And though you're a Possum I love you so. Meet me here often, we have a mission. The Poet That the bird's and the possum's love's doubtful Is the mind of only the unmindful.
If one's dear love could not decide some course Then the male with lesser means no sense makes Yet in love, with love he can well be source Of breeze that sways his sweet flower from mistakes. No, in matters of love the male lacks wind Gentle enough or strong enough that's sure To hold sway of love or even begin. But something, some wonder brings love that's pure. The flower has opened, no one thing the cause Yet everything I am now, the breeze, the moon, The sun, the stars, the dew, without a pause. Everything I will be on earth soon. If my dear love has yet to decide How will I live with love I cannot hide?
Be pleased that in my plenty, less am I Likely to think not of how this place formed With doors opened to where windows don't lie, Where fresh fruit's eaten and no doom is forewarned And coins spent with love become notes of note. Without your beauty and love this place dies And barren soil grows not sonnets that gloat On rich love, beautiful love, love that sighs. This land of plenty was formed by your hand Where poetry's the rock on which safe love towers And words in love's name jump and skip dressed grand Play grown up but at heart children - wear flowers. This land of plenty would be less pleasing If swayed that I earned the riches shining.