Little Voice

Oh

little voice,

who can

but whisper.

If only

you

would live

out loud.

Made of Rubber / If I Dared to Be Brick

For you,

it seems I am made of rubber,

bouncing back

only after having given in.

For you,

it seems I am a young thin tree,

shaken and bent by the wind.

If I dared

to be a greenhouse,

all this picked-up debris

would shatter me in seconds.

If I dared to be brick,

your knuckles would be bloodied

from pounding against my walls.

So I must be a thing that waits,

and wanes,

or else we two shall be injured,

together.

Apart:

pain for me

and pain for you.

Roar

Even roaring at you,

like a lion fighting it’s corner

or calling out it’s victory,

I feel as though I have lost the war

and should have stayed a kitten

purring in a hidden place,

if only to let you win.

You Are Echoes

In this little room of ours

you are echoes

of the softest whisper:

calling out to be heard;

the same each time –

but different

– as you bounce off these walls,

and come back to me.

Between Your Lines

Like a good book,

I feel as though

I have read you a thousand times

and yet,

with every turning page,

discover something new

when I read

between your lines.

The Poet Roars for You

Could there be any doubt

that all of these feelings

would burn a hole

in the centre of my chest,

when even the poet

who lives in my brain

should struggle to find words

that come close enough to the truth

of what roars in my soul for you.

An Anthology Only of You

Even if every single poem

set upon these pages

we’re an anthology only of you,

I could never say enough,

nor tell you all the truths

that beat inside my heart for you.

So you will simply have to trust me

and read between the lines

of every time I tell you that I love you,

and every time I write it

for the world to see.

Tangle-Limbed Wonder

Let me wrap around you,

little one;

my tangle-limbed sweet thing –

oh curled up wonder;

you tight-hold softly-sleeping boy,

let me wrap around you.

I am here.

First, Us –

Then:

Fireworks.

Little Compass

But of course,

you knew where to find me,

and

just how to bring me

back home;

oh,

little compass of mine.

You Stand

You see into the centre of my chest

as though it were

a tiny little window,

but little do you know

that to me

it is a two-way mirror,

and hidden behind it

you stand in the centre of my chest.

At Last – A Haiku

Where have you been, love?

In fact, it hardly matters –

at last you are here.

When the World Stops Burning

When the world was burning

things here took a turn and

I had to step,

to step away,

to keep us safe –

to take my place

in front of you,

like a wall,

wrapping all of you up.

Really,

I didn’t go so far,

but another 60 minutes

broke my heart.

It was like

you were light years away,

and not enough bricks could be found

to build a wall around,

around,

around you,

but nor could I get close enough

to love you then,

and heal your hurting.

But somehow the world keeps turning,

and when the fire is gone,

we will cut sixty minutes down to none,

and I will take my place

in front of you,

one step away

and arms around you –

when the world stops burning.

Wrap You Up a Little Every Day

If it keeps you safe,

I’ll close you in a box.

careful with the paper’s folded edges.

If it makes you feel a little better,

I can add ribbon and bow,

but – you see –

you hardly need it:

you are gift and precious thing

and just as special

as anything could be,

without it all.

But if I must keep you safe –

and I must –

let me wrap you up a little;

a gift to myself

(how lucky I am)

– every day.

Even the Earth

One day you might realise

that gravity is the earth’s way

of holding you close;

even a planet

cannot imagine letting you go.

Lightning Back to Life

Like a bolt of lightning

to the centre of my chest,

you have left a scar

so beautiful,

that its webs are a welcome piece of art

upon my skin.

And so,

thank goodness that

you earthed me here and –

in a flash

– sparked me back to life.

Every day. Absolutely. Not Ever. Yes It Seems.

Sometimes

(every day)

I cope quite poorly

with a changing plan,

and maybe

(absolutely)

I can find myself

gritting my teeth at your misdirection.

But,

then again,

you

have always been a change of plan –

a never-thing

(not ever)

that I did not mean to do,

so perhaps

(yes, it seems)

a plan

is a rule made to be broken.

Little Rabbit

Never fear,

little rabbit;

this tunnel leads you home,

where I will wait to greet you

and curl up

under your ears.

Little Thief of Heat

This little cold creature

in my bed

thaws me out

time and again

while he thieves my heat

with his ravelled-up legs

and drifts

gently off to sleep.

Solid Stone

You fall asleep

and turn to solid stone,

but with you

bricked upon my chest

my breath is light

and so am I.

All The Colour That You Bring

To write you down

in black and white

is really to do

an injustice

to all the colour that you bring,

but it is the only way

that I can think of

to give you permanence

for the world do see,

without tattooing your name

across my chest.

Nothing Else But Time

Here,

in this place,

like running water,

every moment flows –

indistinguishable

– into another.

Rippling from a single second,

into forever.

Here,

in this place,

we have nothing else but time.

Four Seasons

Here you are,

sweetheart.

You are

the first bloom in spring,

and

the longest day of summer.

You are autumn’s early

falling leaf;

the first snowflake of each winter.

Because –

you see,

– you are the beauty

in every day,

all day,

every day.

You are four seasons,

into forever.

We have nothing else but time.

Encore

Days without

the sound of your voice,

are twenty-four hours

of pounding,

painful concert music,

from which

you would never ask:

encore.

Every Time You Fold Away The Edges

Every time

you make the bed

when I leave for work in the morning,

you fold away the edges

of my anxious brain

and leave it ready for me to fall calmly

under the covers,

and more deeply into you.

Long Drive, Ending with a View

You are

a long drive to the coast:

all twists and turns,

some

getting lost,

and so much waiting,

but always ending with a view

that takes your breath away,

when you realise,

at last,

you have

made it to exactly where

you had always intended to be.

Holding Up Your Bones

You are holding up your bones,

when your muscles

just refuse;

your skeleton should be grateful

that you haven’t

given up yet.

Paint You Back

You make being

in a huge amount of pain

look like

the most beautiful piece of art;

I would

paint you back to health,

if I could.

Steadfast, ‘til Morning

Have you ever noticed

how the corners of the mattress

and the duvet

placed on top

never seem to wrinkle

or slip

on those nights we share a bed?

Like we are holding each other in place;

bedstead,

and steadfast,

‘til morning.

Don’t Tell Us We Can’t

When the world

is on fire,

it helps to remember

that each of us

is sixty percent water.

How

could it possibly be

that we can’t put out the flames,

and

still have enough left over

to nourish the earth –

and ourselves

and each other?

Don’t tell us we can’t;

we can.