Day 08 and 09

day 08 a poem you know by heart

I was Mrs F's favourite for reciting poems at Elocution. There is nothing wrong in bragging about your childhood. Iam missing it. Everyday as life is shortening and you say you are only growing. However, though I may be growing 'wiser' I have failed to save a poetry piece in memory but childhood never turns a blind eye on me.
It may be a nursery song, but it still is a poem with rhymes. Heh.


Stop says the red light,
go says the green
change the amber one
blinking in between
thats what they say
and thats what they mean
all must obey them
even the Queen.

day 09 a poem that you want to read in bed to your lover
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair
silent and starving, I prowl through the streets
bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.


I hunger for your sleek laugh
your hands the colour of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body
the soverign nose of your arrogant face
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes
and I pace around in hunger, sniffing the twilight
hunting for you, for your hot heart
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.


Thank you Pablo Neruda for being more than love could provide. You take me on a vacation to the moon where I am balmed by the sun's muscle and watch your words like wild horses running in beds of fodder through your sonnets.