Used to ramble, bus-ing areas

Personally considered remote

Expanses – usually plush, lush

Blanketed green crowned with tall trees

And, the obligatory bodied

Water hopefully, bears wildlife

Socially convenient deemed

Also, highly appropriate


Woods, almost annexed to parkland

Added independence, which helps

Enthuse isolated solitude

Quirky-feeling self-confidence

Quietly exhibits control

Squirrels hide – play one-sided games

Quickly disappear, when acute

Interest stops all movement and

As a flash, soon gone – far distant

Fixed stares survey home territory


In dense, solitary, vacuum-filled

Nothing-laced silence, I would write

Without thinking, and my flow is

Incredible – Poesy unleashed ….

Furiously painting image

Speckled emotional outbursts

Slyly goading invisible eyes

Through sexily promiscuous doors

Tabooed since childhood – all the more

Accessible, now; zip lazily

Slides over heaving, slippery mounds

Made so much, more difficult when

Frantic – deep breaths suck, rise and fall

Swollen, hard – adrenaline coursed blood




From: ‘To the Po.  June, 2nd. 1819 ….’

… What if thy deep and ample stream should be

A mirror of my heart, where she may read

The thousand thoughts I now betray to thee

Wild as thy wave and headlong as thy speed?

What do I say?  ‘a mirror of my heart’?

Are not thy waters sweeping, dark, and strong,

Such as my feelings were and are, thou art,

And such as thou art were my passions long

Time may have somewhat tamed them, not forever

Thou overflow’st thy banks, and not for aye

The bosom overboils, congenial River!

Thy floods subside, and mine have sunk away

But left long wrecks behind us, yet again

Borne on our old career unchanged we move;

Thou to tendest wildly to the wilder main

And I to loving one I should not love

The current I hold will sweep beneath

Her palace walls, and murmur at her feet,

Her eyes will look on thee, when she shall breathe

The twilight air unchained from Summer’s heat

By: George Gordon: Lord Byron