Sailing to windward Poems

Can you hear the cicadas calling
Can you, can you?

Can you see the dream filled yachts
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Pink confused a red rose white
Dipping sun leads day to night.
Guileless dawn joins light with dark;
Hateless, awe-filled, works of art.
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I could hear that plane coming;
the field's not far from me.
The plane you caught here out of love,
to be not far from me.
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Here lie Rob’s bits and pieces
Don’t dig him up, - beware diseases!
Buried at last, out of the way
Quiet for once – nothing to say
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“Wine with you sir? ”, said the sly one,
the, I won’t look you in the eye one,
at the other end of the long oak table,
where I’d placed him whilst still able,
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Your multitude of desolate platitudes
Leave me inconsolably destitute;
Resigned to prostitute and pollute
Beliefs before held resolute
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All the browning leaves;
seems but yesterday they budded.
Veiled, shy, tempted open alongside starry webbing,
suckling spring and summer sun, sweet sap and whispered song,
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In bitter sweet memory,
the horizon never appeared
to get any closer
and he voyaged in love, blissfully.
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We are shy children.
Why wish us ill then,
When we sing our songs for pleasure?
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Even in the planning my palms give me away
An odd mix - adrenaline and wonder.
Shaping the course, , the angst is upon me
Is it right, or will we go under?
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