Thief of the Night

I look to you
with longing
a need so intense
it can only just be satisfied.

Clouds scurry across
your beguiling, dazzling gaze
as if saying no,
you can’t have him,
he’s ours.

They hasten in pace
rolling quicker and quicker
yet somehow you’re still there
luminous
impenetrable.

As if saying
Look
look at me

want me,
need me,
adore me,
love me.

You are the man
I have never found,
mysterious, elusive
suave, charming,
uncommittable, gorgeous. . .

a thief of the night
stealing the show
stealing the light
stealing my heart.

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Moon Ride

I would ride him
be the devil on his back
cling to his silvery flesh
rear upwards until we were taller
than the earth itself
then gallop away
far across the endless desert
of night

going so fast
we could be mistaken
for shooting stars,
a flash of white
all you see
before we disappear
the love, the light
forever ours.

I See With My Heart

I see a saucer of milk
skimming the treetops,
I see over a dozen twin droplets
shaken from a pair of whiskers
and my heart
stops.

I see the icicle stars
diamanté paw prints
padding across the whole sky,
I see a half-smile
soon to be a grin
and I swear I see the moon slumping
heaving a contented sigh.

I see with my heart
as well as my eyes,
maybe that’s why
tonight of all nights
the earth seems so very
alive,

if only my tongue were long enough
to drink every last sight up,
and if only I were tall enough
to reach out and give the world
a hug.

The Eye of the World

I saw him tonight
the eye of the world,

he was poised so perfectly
a crescent of beauty

he looked like a white flame
nestled on a slow burn,

with a haze surrounding him
making his arch of sharpness
seem all the more defined.

I’d love to pluck him from the sky
and wear him as my only diamond

polished, with a hint of rough,
yet somehow he seems
perfection itself.

I love how this always happens
my mind wandering and
poetry forming. . .

for as long as I live
I hope the night
will always be an open book

with the moon its spine
and the stars all the words in between,

with the sky my pot of ink
waiting for the touch of my hand,

for inspiration to remain as endless
as the darkness before me,

for as long as I live
for as long as I breathe

may life always be my dream. . .

Moonstruck

I stare, awe-struck
wondering if you can hear
my trembling heartbeat
beating faster and faster in my chest,

I dare not
breathe you in all at once
for I fear if I drink you up now
there won’t be any of you left tomorrow. . .

Looking at you
is like viewing the world
in black and white;

opulent white
instead of a trembling blue
husky grey
instead of a raw green,

making a patchwork map
you are the earth
in monochrome.

When I hold up my hand
and spread my palm wide
you fit snugly
in the centre

like a coin
a ten pence piece
which has been flipped
and landed, seemingly random
but almost perfectly so.

You are the reason
people get cricked necks,
you lift the head
as hope lifts the soul,

your craters and dents
like ribs on a skeleton
your sleek flesh stretched across
to within an inch of their lives.

Your heart sends a beam
out amongst the stars,

it’s the light
at the end of the tunnel,
the breath of relief
in the mournful, winter nights,

you are the stopper
to our eternal sighs,
may one day you burst forth
and flood the whole skies.