POETRY

Tonight I Ride Upon a Song

Tonight I’ll ride upon a song, not any tune will do,

A melody that haunts my soul would be a mournful brew,

For happy sad am I tonight that inwards I will look,

To wile away an hour or two,

Lost in thought to dream of you,

That you may be my bride.

Let others ride upon a star but melodies for me,

Tonight a ballad romance-filled that I might better be,

Companion to my poem-songs, eternal good-night friends,

To hide the strike of midnight hour,

That I might better sweet devour,

Nocturnal hours with you.

A glass of wine, a melody; refrain or Irish Reel,

Sweet laments of Latvia to nourish thoughts I feel.

Perhaps tonight, my reverie astride a tune that sets me free,

Evoking pastures, brooks and streams,

The forest, vales to whet my dreams,

That you might share with me.

Michael (Walsh) 24.11.13.

quite_write@yahoo.co.uk

Sleep and Dream

Sleep but stay awake in dreams and may your thoughts reveal,

A part of you denied to us, who can’t know how you feel.

Sleep but stay awake this night, but dream as dream you must,

Those stars that shine so bright tonight are sacred angel dust.

Sleep but keep your secrets too, they’re yours, they are unique,

And may you dream from dusk to dawn and feel the dreams you seek,

Sleep when all the world’s in bed, but you shall dream with me,

We two shall wander love-lit paths where dreams shall set us free.

Sleep and dream as angels do with harmony and grace,

To radiate divinity from sweet your sleeping face,

Slumber thine, for you are mine from twilight to the dew,

That when your future is your past might I have shared it too.

Michael (Walsh) 21.11.2013

The Veiled Woman

I saw her but I didn’t as my eyes met hers that day,

Whilst neither hint nor murmur passed her lips,

Then inwardly I swore that I had to know her more,

That we could never be two passing ships.

I wished her for my bride tho‘ my eyes were sad denied,

Capricious smile was hardly plain to see,

In her bonnet-hat and veil, might my heart this eve assail?

Or if forsaken should it pay the fee -

- Of woman in a veil whom my heart alone could see,

When mind-eyes are but simple soul’s redoubt,

A garland for her smile, her veil would sweet beguile,

The heart that knew no more than endless drought.

I saw her but I didn’t in her veil that perfect day,

Forgive me, I would wish her heart to steal,

That my eyes might light upon, a heart I fair had won,

Then all her love would gentle sweet reveal.

Michael (Walsh) 09.11.13

quite_write@yajoo.co.uk

Dressed to Kill

No beast of field, no fish nor fowl,
Shall be that different be,
As man and woman often are -
And as they’ll always be.

The lion and the lioness,
The queen and worker bee,
Or monkey sat on branch with mate,
They look the same to me.

But woman in mascara,
In lipstick sets afire,
The helpless male, her prey tonight,
Seduced by love, desire.

The mantis has her way with male,
Then takes the shorter kill,
Whilst ladies in their ardour ways,
Prefer the longer thrill.

Divine the female shape is suave
So different, poles apart,
A woman’s sleek, so tender, meek,
Whilst he has harder heart.

A stylish woman, coiffure, dressed,
Eye-liner, dressed to kill,
May bring a coarse man to his knees,
And bend him to her will.

A much less likely pair they are,
She’s sweet and shaped divine,
But he is hard in tongue and mode
He’s beer, she’s sparkling wine.

Peacock and dull hen reversed,
But ladies dress to kill,
They hold the looks of lesser years,
When he is over hill.

Michael (Walsh) 08.11.2013

The Babbling Brook

Where have you been, my babbling brook?

You’re passing then roving afar,

The pale moon is distant, I see it so well,

And further away is the star.

Your waters are lucid but your birth is unclear,

As you sing and you skip on your way.

You eddy and prance, you frolic and dance,

Whilst we flowers are rooted in clay.

“My mother was moss on a sweet mountain knoll,

And my droplets were sweet mother’s tear,

When taking my leave there was no time to grieve,

By a spring that was crystal-like clear.”

“I took and returned as I dampened the fields,

With rain and the sweet morning dew,

So I dance on my way through night and through day,

The fountain of life, I renew.”

But where will you go as your sing your goodbye,

We shall miss you, my sweet mountain stream,

Will you seek the great sea to roam the world free?

And leave the sweet meadows to dream.

“In a lake I shall dwell by the pastures and dell,

Where the lilies and reeds are my veil,

The breezes will blow and your flowers will grow,

From my bosom for forest and vale.”

Michael (Walsh) 07.11.13

quite_write@yahoo.co.uk