Saturday, 14 April 2012

An Ugly Woman

I have a blind date says I to Billy
She is the one that hosts at The Blues on the west side of the city
Egad! moans Billy I know her man
She is an ugly woman

At her home..I am full of fear and apprehension
I cannot make a decision
I have tapped her door..but I want to run
She is after all, Billy says, an ugly woman

The air rushes by as she swings open her door
My eyes take her in and immediately hit the floor
She says hello and come on in here
Her voice is smooth and sweet on my ear

I take a risk..and look into her eyes
A deep blue, the kindness is clear, they mesmerize
The wrinkles at the corners are hardly crows feet
But tracks of love and knowledge of great things complete

Her lips are full and familiar with laughter
She has the grace of wisdom, the gifts of sons and daughters
When she takes my hand in her own
I can feel the strength and still, the gentleness she has shown

And when she took me into her embrace
I knew that heaven had more than one beautiful face
A lovely woman with needs and passions
Her strength only moved by my muscles blissful contraction

Billy is a handsome fool its true
This lady I have met is beautiful through and through
And in the mirror on the wall in her hall
Is the ugliest man of all
Gunner©





Tuesday, 3 April 2012

The Ladders Angel

  I found myself, once again, clutching a rung of Jacobs ladder

 contemplating my choices and other rathers

 And here the past spread out before me

 the future, only a glimpse from the rung above that I could see


 And there below me spoke an angel in all its glory

 "Hello again poor Man, its been a wonderful story"

 I laughed out loud the way only joy can

 and wondered if this being I loved misunderstood the god given gifts of man


For pity the angel, not scorn,

who will never find death and be reborn

or the demon who drowns in his own lust

never a breath of calm to fill it's withered soul gone to dust


We will each, the angel and I,  admire the beautiful rose

but it is I that finds the gift of the roses' scent in my nose

The angel will be what it be for an eternity

while I for an eternity, live and die but choose each time what I will be


And if we throw ourselves into the sea

It is I that will  feel the cold cloak of its squeeze on me

While the angel remains stout and strong

The physical senses you see, to it just do not belong


Tell me sweet angel

What know you of hate and rage or envy at your table

While I have swam in their fires

My soul taught the measure of their power untired


We see the sun you and I, its beauty undefined

Unlike you, I feel its heat, the warmth great and kind

We see my child born and grow

I feel her heart beat, her breath on my brow


And so you see my magnificent creature

We have gifts each with different features

Yours like the large decorative box void, but ribboned and bowed

Mine perhaps damaged and torn, but full with a heart of gold


Poor Angel of mine so dear

To make it real and so clear

of all my sorrows and joys, I wish I could gift you a small portion of each

and show you why I have come again, the rung in my reach

Gunner ©