We’re Alone Now

We're Alone Now

We’re Alone Now

We’re Alone Now

Fragile souls in the arena
bristling claws and teeth,
Bloodied by caustic tongues,
haemorrhaging self-belief.
Their words dissecting,
Still unable to summon the strength for the fight,
nor the bile to counter.
A last pitiful cry…..

… We’re alone now

Touch Of Cinnamon

Lyrics for James Blake – Retrograde

I decided to alter this piece. I prefer it this way, hope you do too.


He... 1

He moves on all fours,
malevolence igniting fervour,
delicious in his maleness, unrelenting in his pursuit.

He circles me,
bellowing his intent,
stomping out boundaries; ominous warnings fired at other males.

He savours each battle,
bathes in their defeat,
worthy of each bloodied form; deserving of the heart he already possesses.

He captures the sweetness,
conquers with calloused fingers and tender persuasion,
whispering words, beautiful and rapturous. Fracturing me to a kneel.

He makes me feel extraordinarily female,
delicate and tiny,
hiding among sinew, distended veins and protective menace.

He’s unfolding before me,
gentleness seeping from his soul, cleansing; atoning,
this is what makes him beautiful. He’s vulnerable; like me, he’s caught by the heart.

He’s earned the right,
all rights.
Don’t go into battle, you WILL lose,
for we are armed….we are armed with love.

Touch Of Cinnamon

Re-posting one of my favourite pieces because ‘He’ drives me crazy.

Down We Go

Woman Praying 1

Oh father tell me, do we get what we deserve?

How do I climb out of the belly of beast,
when his skin is all I want to wear?

How do I stop the lick of his flame,
when all I desire is to feel the burn?

How do I get these feet to carry me home,
when my legs only know how to kneel?

…but only for him.

Oh father, we get what we deserve…
so down we go.

Inspired by the song ~ Way Down We Go by Kaleo

Ode To Facebook


Come sit beside me,
lets take a look
at what I saw
on my Facebook

Cryptic updates,
attention seeking
widespread ‘LOL’s’
and people freaking.

Stolen words
so bland and trite
from foolish pens
that cannot write.

Another photo…
my neighbours brunch
there’s one of breakfast
and Sunday lunch!

Loads of (((((HUGS)))))
and talk of karma
from catty teens,
the queens of drama.

Greetings galore
a birthday thread.
“I wuff oo babes
I wish you were dead”

Kids speak “text”,
“Hey, hows yu m8?.
Adults ponder…
and participate.

Numerous photos
of hideous sprogs
Cats abound
and ugly dogs.

Politics, dogma
in boxes, square
“Down with this one…
and that one there!”

My work is done
Please hear my call:
Write on paper…
not someone’s wall.


Remnants of War

Remnants of War

Steely jaws blunt with condemnation
replace the cries of the wounded.
Wielded with cold disdain
they cut away the beauty,
revealing only her betrayal.
Silver tongues whisper contempt
announcing her treachery.
Delivering her sentence with a final cut,
she wears her shame for all to see.
Like an invisible crown of thorns
she carries her burden through the streets,
its weight raw with humiliation.

Embrace Me



Do you not recognise me?

I am the sum of you all
yet free of gender and race,
measured not by my wealth
nor the allure of a face.

Evolution and deities
draw a truce in this shell,
it is a place of the ageless,
where the tolerant dwell.

I am no stranger,
I am the reflection of impartiality.



This ageing body is my coat of retribution,
grudgingly worn, familiar, but of no comfort.
I find myself sniggering at my fingers’
attempts to rub out the years,
The touch itself feels leaden and crude.

Again I recite the caustic words to the mirror,
picking out my crimes one by one.
Is this contempt or disgust?
Either way, I dress to the sound of recrimination,
and paint a smile on my thinning lips.


Deadwood - Family Tree

I’m pruning the family tree tonight
putting an end to further growth
you should have kept your sap within
and honoured our wedding oath

New shoots you have been sprouting
in a garden not your own
her plot was on the larger size
where many seeds had blown

Small wonder that I’m seeing red
and giving in to rage
I’m chopping off a rotten branch
to create another page

I just got Gold in a poetry contest with this little ditty.  Yeah I was shocked too!

Marks Of The Past

Soul-mate - “Love is simply the name for the desire and pursuit of the whole.” ~ Plato, The Symposium

Soul-mate – “Love is simply the name for the desire and pursuit of the whole.” ~ Plato, The Symposium

Adriana Mezzadri – Marcas De Ayer (Marks Of The Past)

I grieved your absence long before I knew your name
You were the time-worn scar carved under my skin
The severed necessity I could feel but not see
Your mournful echoes were forever wounding the present
But still I slipped the guilt on my finger and wore the lie
For he was not you, yet you were always the other half of me
Tell me querido, can you feel the marks of the past?

Touch Of Cinnamon

“According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.”

“Love is born into every human being; it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature.”

“Love is simply the name for the desire and pursuit of the whole.”

― Plato, The Symposium

Temporary Light

Temporary Light

Apollo The God Of Light – Caden

Riding on the back of bullish charisma, you touch down
Infecting those caught in your storm with confused excitement
Blind to their own dismantling, they conform, wide-eyed and awestruck
Placing heaped plates of creativity and hope at your wandering feet
These diligent little worker ants await direction, but will inevitably starve
For you are oblivious to the furore; already restless; already moving on
Did no one tell them your light here was only temporary?

Touch Of Cinnamon

We’re Alone Now

We're Alone Now

We’re Alone Now

Fragile soul in the arena, bristling claws and teeth.
Bloodied by caustic tongues. haemorrhaging self belief.
Their words dissecting.
Unable to summon the strength for the fight, nor the bile to counter.
A last pitiful cry
I’m alone now
Defeat’s ponderous hand, final, heavy.

Suddenly there was you……

Rising up, you position yourself between us.
The room falls silent. Muted in disbelief.
Look away now little one
Moving slowly the challenge is on; eyes fixed.
Dark heat. A pulsing fury. A bellowing
No longer alone.
The beast is free. No more defeat!

Roles reversed, their time to feel pain.
Swift retribution. Slow blood. A reckoning.
Baby, please stop now!
Gathering me up, you build a fortress around me.
Prowling it’s perimeter. Watchful. Ready. Breathless.
We’re alone now but for each other.
They have the company of their defeat.

Relentless vigilance takes it’s toll.
Baby, come in from the cold. Put down your fists.
Let me soothe you.
Tenderness chases away the animal, delivers me the man.
Female warmth and exhaustion finally claim you.
Sleep querida, we’re alone now.
Let me be the girl you love.

Touch Of Cinnamon

Lyrics for James Blake – Retrograde



Yasmin Levy – Firuze

Belted silver coins cascade, kissing flank and rounded thighs,
each step rousing a seductive melody; calling him to her.
Delicate fingers lost in sinew; reading the man….soothing….igniting,
half hidden by his thunder, a brooding body of stone.
A body desecrated by battle hungry men and rubbed smooth by her surrender….
female, honey sweet surrender…warm….soft….breathless.

Moving only for him, hips sway in unspoken beckoning,
a whisper of white against liquid amber flesh.
Blood thirsty cables trace their way under ochre skin….male….burnished and musky,
his heady scent still covering her, staking its claim.
A primal, unchallenged claim. Kneeling she offers her wrists in submission…
feminine, honey sweet submission…..total….delicate….unashamed.

Touch Of Cinnamon

Till Death Do Us Part

Till Death Do Us Part

Extras in our own ill-fated drama, teetering on termination; awaiting the axe.
Playing obsolete roles for the ignorant masses,
Too fat and complacent to catch the shift in us,
Too close to the stage to see the sleight of hand; the illusion.

All they can do now is clap on, unaware.
Confused when the lifeless thing in the corner is examined and pronounced dead.
Stunned when the rings are thrown into the crowd as they separate and take a bow.
Leaving by different exits to take up new roles, on a new stage.

Touch Of Cinnamon

Warriors Cry

A warrior's quest to possess and win the heart of the daughter of the lake.

A warrior’s quest to possess and win the heart of the daughter of the lake.

The Warrior & The Nymph

Music: To Zucchabar

“Flee daughter of the lake, for today begins the battle of all battles,
Hide among the shadows and blackened reeds,
Run from me for a thousand years,
Drink the air from mine lungs, if thou will,
But little Naiad, thou WILL be mine to possess.”

No more hidden meanings, a revelation of intent,
An absolute.
A whispered proclamation, not a tentative confession.
“Little Naiad, thou WILL me mine to possess.”
Relishing the kiss of her scent as she takes flight.

“Flee daughter of the lake, let the lovers dance begin,
Hide among the shadows and blackened reeds,
Run from me for a thousand years,
Drink the air from mine lungs, until I am no more,
But little Naiad, thou WILL be mine to possess.”

No more chivalrous restraint, weapons drawn in pursuit,
A crusade.
Dark pools deplore, echoing out his defiant cry.
“Little Naiad, thou WILL be mine to possess”
Exquisite is the hunt; delicious is thy resistance.

“So flee daughter of the lake, the chase almost as sweet as thy submission,
Hide among the shadows and blackened reeds,
Run from me for a thousand years,
Drink the air from mine lungs, watch me perish,
But little Naiad, thou WILL be mine to possess”

Find shelter in devotion; the warming kiss from loving lips,
An awakening.
Thou have mine heart, mine blood I spill for thee.
“Little Naiad, please be mine to possess”
Pallid is mine flesh; fear and pleading fill mine eyes.

“Don’t flee daughter of the lake, stay close so I might see thee before I cease,
Don’t hide among the shadows or blackened reeds,
Don’t run from me for a thousand years,
Don’t drink the air from mine lungs, hold me in thine embrace,
Please little Naiad, be mine to possess.”

His tender words tumble, creating a breach in her defence,
A weakening.
Reasoning unfolding, his arsenal shattering her sensibilities
“Warrior man, I WILL be thine to possess.”
Throw down thine arms, cover me in forever and ever words.

“No more fleeing, daughter of the lake; bind thine wrists together with mine,
Walk along the shallows and gilded lilies’s,
Love me for TEN thousand years,
Kiss sweet breath into mine lungs, I beseech thee,
But little Naiad, I AM thine to possess.”

Touch Of Cinnamon