(ii) wistful thoughts

fingers unwind, the very same that
caressed when intertwined, mine in yours.

and as we part, the halting caresses relive
the painful moments of canorous, crooning,
warbled words.

wistful thoughts…

the very words, your dainty fingers, sometime
before this sepulchral silence,
on my gnarled and mottled skin, wrote.

(i) end….at the beginning

like a whisper chases its shadow,
around a domed gallery made of stone
we leap-frog from liaison to liaison, yet
in the end, as at the start – are left alone

Hullo All…

Just a quick note to test the waters of the Pirean Spring, so to say.

Hullo and well met!



An aeolian enterprise;

perse-tinged zephyr,
the caliginous expanse
of night’s tresses pester;

coruscation in her eyes,
sculpt each venial qafir
to a penitent impasse;

as softness of lips whisper,

plot a subfusc surprise…..

dovile (i)

some alchemy,
in the silhouette and daguerreotype;
caressed by caliginous contours
of plumes,
all negativity turns to light!


Tender is the night,
tender the sighs, susurrations and gasps
of delight.

Passion is the moon,
passion the caress, the touch, the piety
of moonlight.

You are the tenderness
of the moon, your kisses delight;
your voice rasping sighs, the
sucking in of breath.

You become the night….


…and the story in her eyes.

recondite as eternity, ineluctable as fate;
a congeries of the unsaid –

then there is her smile….


intransigents in this ‘relating’ to her –

stone-cold catacombs of her heart;
the tortuous maze that is her glance,
and a half-smile playing on lilac lips….

specious like his words of seduction.


lips turn cerise with the
passion of her words, the love
of her emotions.

and sussurations of desire
curdle the ridges of his
cochleate heart…

( such are the secrets lovers share )


You are unearthly beautiful;
was there some cosmic conspiracy
in the heavens the day you were conceived?

Is there a numinous
stellar synchronicity to sculpt
and hone your form from celestial
alabaster it seems….

…did the firmament eschew some colours
such that your irises could glow
and did the constellations mulct
the beauty of the stars
to give you shape.