D AND R!

Two remarkably caring people

With the initials D and R,

Have an incessant disposition,

Giving unfailingly with an open heart,

They're two of life's rare treasures,

A strong family love they impart,

To know them is to love them

No matter who you are.

They find joy in giving surprises,

One's gratitude seems not enough,

And whenever there's a crisis,

They're the first to see things get done,

Giving of their time too, is constant,

It comes quite naturally,

Seems like 'no' is not an option,

If they can help, so it shall be.

And for their Sis's landmark b-day,

T'was a beautiful foreign treat,

It took her breath away so much

Thoughts of home would not compete.

'How marvelous you two are doing

Such a lovely thing!'

Here's a toast to you D and R...

Thank you both for everything.

Blessings!

LARGO DI COMO.

Outstanding!... Whose senses could not be shaken,

By this glorious scene unmistaken,

It's like beauty's soul has awakened.

Is it love manifested as a sight in weary eyes?

Or a symphony:

Overtures caught, possessed in nature's physical

guise,

Bound in rustic affluence of classic splendour,

Rich is history proud outgoing, the native tender,

As the smooth noise of latin tongues speak,

Though commendable, never spoiling for the air of

being meek,

While unspoken whispers in flowing waters carry

Insatiable peace

Overseen, in all majesty, by the imposing grace of

Tree-lined mountain peaks.

Are the vibrations of eden's garden vested here?

A sense of enchanted paradise, the persuasion

Of magic ensconsed, are felt dancing here and there,

No other place captures beauty as potent as this

to bear!

D'ESTE, PULL OF THE LAKE!

Through classic curtains and large french doors onto the balcony,

Stepping into stunning sights rife in picturesque alchemy,

A piano's heard, a backdrop, playing recognizable tones,

The ear-licious sound floats daintily in the breeze creating love...

gentle sojourns to those authentic zones.

Even the seagull takes a spurious moment from flight to chill,

Whilst the lake, ah the lake mysterious, magnificent, surreal,

Expresses a lady like response that would break a heart or kill,

Touching sweetly, she kisses with her unlimited, irresistable air

Yet strong sensuous will.

As evening roams the twilight, and night descends,

'Here's' beauty captured in romance, omnipotence

Flaunting in ernest a satiable pretence power to pretend,

Shown through the ages, those souls leaving worlds behind

Seeking refuge for either, long or short whiles, come

To this exquisite repose for whatever means, proposed to expend.

MAJESTIC WATERS.

A palatial atmosphere,

A colourful past,

An enchanting air,

Steeped in magical essence

floating, unknowingly set to last,

Kings, Queens, Celebrities

Businessmen, Heirs, and

Characters of the Arts,

Have been, and are touched

by the grace and splendour

The great lake imparts,

Looking through large windows

From the presidential room,

She caresses and embraces

Imagination... no less than

How Heaven would bloom.

DREAMCATCHER!

In her white roman style kaftan flowing,

She admires the bewitching, beguiling sea view,

Transfixed, serene like a siamese cat expressing,

Warm beatitudes describing the lake's mood, glacier

range and sunny sky so deep blue,

Emphatically her words fill ears with passion as if

Like willing it to be, so this wish could come true,

That living on these shores of the briny water poses

To be a lifetime achievement, a jewel,

Without which no-where else would come close or do.

MIDDLE OF THE LAKE.

Do you know of a place like this elsewhere?

Exceptional time graces the charm of fragrant air,

It cannot be measured and is so without compare,

Lost in the silence of its tireless golden space,

Is a cradle of beauty at the centre of the lake,

Seen by most kinds of boats through ages past,

Chance has come soaking the time at full mast.

Inquisitive eyes can see the general lay from there,

Textures hitting the senses like a tonic of aromatic

Nectar lost to lonely cares,

Picturesque sightings of villages posing generously,

Peer through the trees show off classic architecture

displayed precociously,

Cannot be captured at the waters edge only at the centre

Where the heart captures nebulas glimpses of wholeness

And welcomes the unaccustomed hum of being blessed.

Moods of silence strum to the feel of insignificance,

The motor boat stationary suggests altered indifference,

Urging impressions of the mind to rule,

Doth yield helplessly to the call of gratitude,

The centre of the lake air, curbs the pride of defences,

While love that looms, bathes in timeless reverie and

Savours an extraordinary moment toward reminiscences.

CLOUDS!

The teacher was happy and loud,

''She said yes to a date I'm so proud,''

His brother scoffed said ''That's naughty,

She's eighteen 'n' you're forty,

Get real take your head out the clouds!''

LIGHTNING BOLT!

There was an old racehorse from Stoke,

Won the Grand race as a colt,

Was the prize of the city,

Head swelled what a pity,

One night was struck by a stray lightning bolt!

MEAT 'N' POTATUS!

And sycophants hang on every

Word he squawks,

Not cross questioning a thing

When he talks,

Saying they love his capers,

Whilst looking for favours,

No meat 'n' potatus they court!

SHEHERAZADE.

She came the 'Daughter of the city,' (concubine)

With intent of marriage poised on her breath,

His kingdom flowed with gold, spice and riches,

The grand prize was to be Queen in his bed,

Betrayed by love, he took his revenge,

Marrying others but slaying them each night,

She was summoned to his chamber,

Touched by this beautiful stranger

With exotic charm, telling tales making him blind.

Her stories kept hold as nights followed days

Until the King fell madly in love,

She broke the chains of his vengeful pain

Captivated, he heard all 'til they were done,

Sheherazade rose to become his good faithful Queen,

A journey she'd set out to achieve,

Bore him three kids, showed how deceptive she'd been

Saving her life and attaining her dream.

Love filled the King's heart where great pain had lived

Both had won, now joy was grand once again,

She lived out her life with full honours as Queen

Knowing the King's love was hers forever amen.

THEN.

Fashioned into positions of acceptance,

Life assures through consequence,

Child, adolescence and adulthood

the common sentence,

as the in-betweens, emotions, dreams,

Psychological issues, move with the

physical appliance,

Modes of conditioning, intention and

guidance,

Lay air filled foundations, rebellious angst

courting degrees of determined hunger for

ambitious vainglorious reliance,

There's no physical past to live and comprehend,

There's only the present; show to live and tend,

There's no future but its space filled with intent,

But the manifestations of a blessing or curse cannot

show before then.

A SHORT STAY.

Suspended in the swift present,

How delicate and beautiful it is

As distraction enters the reverie

of 'nows' involvement,

Patterns of living take to their

usual appearance and positions of

residence, carrying on pursuing the

everydayness that proudly persists.

PAST SHORES REVISITED.

Tinges of shadowy impressions creep into the present.

Stories, reminiscences and schoolyard whiles told;

In hotel rooms a scene's captured watched by the

moon's shiny essence,

An occasion printed for memory whilst on the road.

Holding court, a catalyst of sorts, but there's also a

tendency, under influence, to bark, brace and balk,

Telling many tales creating much laughter and retorts,

An atmosphere alive with spirited fun and frolic spark

gut wrenching guffaws of laughter when cartoon imagery

from stories are caught.

A smoke shared, graced by a glass of Bolly,

Loosening the tongue forging a rouse towards states of

folly,

Bringing more of the past back into the nights charade,

Making all appear rather good, game and most jolly!

Yet still living in a world of glamourous re-runs,

Faded glamour, clutching onto residues of whispery,

transient fame,

'Oh how wise, it seems, these nights are; to manifest

themselves somewhat allowing revisits into those

nebulas, illusive, yesterdays,'

But irrepressible is the mind's constant knocking of

nostalgia; never tiring

And never stops looking through its tinsel coloured frame.