Sunday, 26 June 2011

Night and Day

NIGHT AND DAY, DAY AND NIGHT (Villanelle)  Wendy Webb


The sea comes in, the sea goes out, so bare
in shades of nude, all rolling on the tide;
while light is changing, eyes can simply stare.

Twice every day her creeping mermaid hair
sweeps flashing scales and swirls where mermen ride.
The sea comes in, the sea goes out so bare.

Young sun wraps rising summer everywhere;
proud bouquets touching train of vestal bride,
while light is changing, eyes can simply stare.

Soft increments of time trace fins, compare
crude harbour clocks to tables, catch to stride.
The sea comes in, the sea goes out, so bare.

Sink solstice, tone to autumn airs, so rare;
chime lengthened shadows, plainsong’s deep-wrapped hide,
while light is changing, eyes can simply stare.

Pale lunar tides, like hallowed flows of prayer
or convents where bride light and dark abide.
The sea comes in, the sea goes out, so bare,
while light is changing eyes can simply stare.

Saturday, 11 June 2011

Love on the Throne

LOVE ON THE THRONE (Sonnet)  Wendy Webb


I tear apart quilt words to scent-fresh pine,
dull routine absence hollows out my time:
a homely cesspit of free-flowing slime.
I need your cistern’s flush, where loving’s fine.

Although you rise where morning fails to shine,
no limescale builds to silt love into crime.
Air freshener bouquets - signatures of grime –
where moist to moist and skin to skin’s a sign:

One flesh, one heart, one red rose that you’re mine,
angelic choirs of snores tone me to rhyme.
No loveseat thrones such warm and comfy clime
and you will always be my Valentine.

I simply need your loving mess each day,
romancing me in passion’s caring way.