Helen Crutchett

Restless spirits wrap cobweb
threads of endearing sonnets,
capturing words of soothing soliloquy
beyond the sound of silence.
...

come.... sit with the beloved in the garden
of tranquillity......
where nature's essence flows
like the ancient Nile
...

I am the weaver of your dreams
the gypsy in your soul seeking
revolutionary paths
I am the gentle breeze beneath your wings
...

A frenzied surge adds brilliance to my canvas,
new brushes sweeping sweet abandon
paint thick from nature's paintbrush
ready for a renaissance
...

A special day they say...
with flowers and verses delivered
sexy cards with sweet nothings.
...

I am Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile
Miriam, discovering Moses in the bullrushes
Sarah birthing her longed-for child in a Bedouin tent
I am a princess locked in her ivory tower
...

They are the weavers of daydreams
The gypsies of your enquiring mind
Leading you on paths to worlds unknown
Sending your thoughts to heavenly heights
...

I chanced upon you one fateful day
bathed in your glory for the whole world to see.
The plunder all around you left you unfazed.
As thunderous sounds of trees falling around you
...

You could show me the rivers of paradise,
it would be nothing if your love ceased to flow.
The shade of the palm trees would not ease
the burning of my soul, if you went from my life.
...

Through the dark night of the soul
With no treasure maps to guide me
No helpful signs along the way
No hiding from that bird of gloom
...

You stepped out of my dreams
into my September morn
dappled sunlight caressing
Autumn leaves bright and
...

The fire burns with white hot fury
streets run with rivers of blood
The doves of peace can find no resting place
In this tormented world as the wolves of war
...

Take wing with me, soar o'er trees
To faerie realm's distant dreams
Mirror moonbeams flirted,
Dainty butterflies skirted
...

Will you waltz with me in the moist midnight air...
Take my hand to the passionate strains of violins
In our newly discovered rose gardens of
secret delights
...

When day has taken to her bed
‘neath the comforting blanket of night's
warm coverlet
mysterious moon lights her lamp
...

I, too, am a player in this strange play of life
On a stage too big for my comfort.
A sea of faces making up the audience.
Some have left their mark as they played their
...

Tread Softly thy spirits of the night
Her sleeping doth still the blinking stars
On blushed cheeks falls a lock of ebony hair
Crescent moonlight drifting on alabaster
...

When I was a child the raw
earthy decadent smell of carnival,
flashing mirrors and bright lights
frightened me.
...

My heart will go on beating
When sweet blossoms bloom until
Butterflies announce in flight
renewal is only fleeting.
...

Night drips inky blackness
around a crescent moon,
as silent clouds delicately
float soft silver beams.
...