Andrew David Dalby

The Deer
I
The heavy scent of pine, oak, birch and hyssop,
Spins like secret sacred garlands within the breeze;
...

Come on! seize that hard fought road!
That steady stained and chiselled path,
Scratched out from our chalk filled thoughts
Which touches on our naked dreams.
...

He stares:
Swirling,
Unfurling,
Unleashing,
...

This season is full of secret hints: of mustard spiced tints,
Which wrestle between the steps of rusted slow-dancing.
It is a secret, sacred space, where the night fingers of crows,
Stretch out in slowly expanding, ever circling swirling curls;
...

The Vamp's song.

Darling, let's detonate and render obsolete this day;
To bring about the triumphant mistress of the night.
...

I
Her eyes reflect such subtle beauty,
As in a vast and cloudless star filled sky;
While her luscious hair, weak curled, is rolling
...

O secret sacred silver world
you divinely shine here whole
and in this now pure growing light
In the hints of such subtle night
...

I sense her as she gently slips between the sheets;
While I slide along those sacred lines of near sleep,
To then rest within twilight's gossamer tainted dream.
And here I smile, for in her arms, I am so self-defined,
...

As I slowly lift my head to face the sky,
I feel the warmth of the summer rain,
Slowly kiss open my swollen eyes;
And in the midst of their fall,
...

She has these lovely butterfly eyes,
that lustre in their sweet fragility.
They look at me, so bold and unafraid;
despite her twenty three years of age,
...

The sun shimmers upon her gossamer skin,
to shine ever onward now and for evermore.
it glimmers with hints of radiant rippling;
giving an illusion of a starlight's lord.
...

The Deer
I
A heavy musk of pine, oak, birch and hyssop;
Hang like sacred garlands upon the blue breeze.
...

The golden echoes of the rising sun
erupts though the stain glass pane;
eclipsing my now new exhumed form.
so, from where cold cruel death
...

There's nothing in the world of matter,
just mere rocks that collect dust
In spirals; outside is a vacuum
a cacophony of silence
...

I drink her in and then I spit to spout her out... entirely.
I thrust long, deep, with a sigh of plumped rich precision;
But I pace my bleeding aching urges to a gentle glow.
Oh... to sup this real bitter blistered free communion,
...

I recall with such vivid giddy wonder,
The way she so loved to gently play.
And how she slowly stroked my soul,
With her tender misdirected sway.
...

Forever

There is Light! She shines behind these paralysed winter trees:
A mere hint of tangerine, which melts into a burnt blood orange;
...

Love is more than a collection of random words…
Love is more than a mirrored reflection of emotion...
Love, charged directly at the heart, changes lives;
That, when touched by Love, are made new...whole... entire.
...

We spent many warm summer nights,
simply twisting threads of echoes;
Into clustering meadows of starlight.
While throwing our tender passions,
...

padding silently,
so dark brown its almost black as night;
with its feelers outstretched,
every step is cautious careful delicate.
...