Imagination

Sometimes Words Stick

It’s the surprising tone of them
Those secular words
And offset phrases
That topple from your mouth
And hit me like truck
They fall
Like snowflakes in June
Emerge
As an earthquake in Brixton
Their unexpected arrival
Inspiring awe
Inviting fascination
They seep into a mind
Like mine
Stir with imagination
And repeat
The words turning
Over and over, in my ears
On my tongue
Mouthing the meter
As the image plays through
In my mind’s eye
Again
I can’t imagine it,
but I like to try

“Body slamming walls in the shower”

The Power of Three

1
It’s the little things
Silly offerings of defiance
Lashings of hubris
Teasing and confirmed
To sit with my literary life

2
It’s the sweet things
Gentle suggestions of romance
Ribbons of happiness
Trusted and concerned
To knit with my fanciful life

3
It’s the silly things
Little gestures of compliance
Pockets of humour
Twisted and conformed
To fit with my imaginary life

Meditations of you

The soft graze of stubble against my skin
The intense gaze from shimmering irises
As you look with pools full of conflict
The secure grasp of your arms locked,
winding around me, holding me safe.
The gruff tone of your voice, that tilts
To a tinkling ‘hmmph’ when amused
The ability to force me to shudder,
Involuntary,
without being near me
The tight craving inside
when conjuring your image
just to amuse myself.

These are the reasons
That I can’t evict you from my world