Poetry (words)

Ain’t No Other…

Ain’t no place on earth I’d rather be than anywhere with you beside me. Ain’t no other person in my heart, it’s been you right from the start. 

Ain’t no face I’d rather see, your beautiful warmth gazing back at me. Ain’t no hands I’d rather hold, your touch worth more than its weight in gold. 

Ain’t no mouth I’d rather kiss, no other lover holds such bliss. Ain’t no other man I’d rather touch, I’m lost in you so very much. 

Ain’t no other man who’s swims in my depths, you devour me length and breadth. Ain’t no other heart I want to protect, your soul will never know neglect. 

Ain’t no other man who knows my dark desire, the fantasy that you inspire. Ain’t no other love I’d move mountains for, ain’t no other woman could love you more. 

Poetry (words)

Train times

Schedules and platforms filling my gaze. I know where I know when and the number of days. I have patience enough for the times in between. No doubts could disturb all the beauty I’ve seen. 

The ticket machine like a box of delights I punch in my reference and it prints in bold type. I like the sound the doors make when the button is pressed. I love where I’m heading,  the butterflies in my chest. 

Embankments littered with the remains of the day. Wildlife scurries to keep out of harms way. The darkness of tunnels reflecting only my gaze this journey to you is a beautiful haze. 

The clock on the platform ticks in time with my heart. Final destinations that allow life to start. I’ll never tire of the time spent or the distance I’ve come, the scramble for luggage, the disembark scrum.

The miles that separate us are the same miles that bring us together ❤️

Poetry (words)

Beside the sea

I dislike the smell of candy floss. Sickly sweet, cloying. “Kiss me quick” hats and fish and chips mixed with alcohol. Amusement arcades, noise and cash. I don’t like this seaside.  Hen parties / stag dos, those English traditions belong here and are welcome to it.

I like the ocean, the sound of the sea. Tiny harbours, inlets and coves. Natures sounds are breathtaking. No cafe for miles, no burgers flipping on hot plates. I become me, but allow the tide to rule.

I can think here. I can breathe. Sand between my toes, I watch my footprints fade in the ebb and flow. No one will know I was here even though part of me remains I will never disturb the silence.

A sense of belonging is a beautiful thing. To be at one with something so powerful, to see all of the colours in the blink of an eye. Peace in the heart even on restless days.

Poetry (words)


I listened to you shower. I felt the warmth of your smile and watched the water drip from your hair. I saw you dress….I like to watch you. 

As the morning slipped away I drowned surrounded by you. No ticking clock to announce the seconds that passed, but pass they did.

I think I paced the bedroom floor a hundred times. I think I fiddled with the window blind. I know I held your shirt to my face I know I drowned in you.

I ran my finger down the empty bottle by the sink. I smiled I reminisced I felt you. The living room smells of candles and lilies. I pressed  my hip against the indent in your cushion. 

I imagined how it would be, impossible in hindsight to capture the scale of emotion in saying “good bye”.  I never said the words when the time came. 

The day didn’t pass in the blink of an eye, it was drawn out and painful. I wanted to write to leave something behind, but it wouldn’t flow.

I showered. I packed my case. I held your shirt to my salt stained face. I breathed you in so deeply. 

The rush ensued to make it on time. I wished I’d planned better.  You moved your hair from your eyes and picked up your keys. I adore watching you. 

I remember feeling chilly and how the sunshine hurt my eyes. I don’t remember the journey, but for the duration I was lost.   Soaking you up. 

One last moment to pull you close. To breathe you in. It will never be enough time. Kissing you is beautiful. Mesmerising and sensual, even when it’s goodbye. 

I hate ticket machines. I hate anything that separates us, platform 9, the underground walkway. I hate leaving you. 

Poetry (words)

If music be the food of love….

…..then write me a sonnet  and sing it from your heart’s depths. 

Dedications of love. In passing a song that’s already been dedicated to every love you’ve had. 

You’ve never loved like this before? Yet the words are the same words the and the music so familiar. Like a comfort blanket used again and again. 

It’s quite a cruel gift these second hand feelings. No matter how beautiful the words, when used to define what you’ve already defined they become meaningless. 

Originality! I don’t want to be a ticked box in a little black book of “love songs” I want new feeling not old memories. Give me something to sink into not a crowded room full of past loves and what ifs all singing the same worn out words. I don’t want those feelings. I don’t want your cast offs.

The feelings they evoke in you are nothing to do with me. It’s like a love letter with a thick layer of tippex over countless names.

Love is….. never repetition. 

The Beautiful South – Song For Whoever 

Poetry (words)

Without him.

When he speaks I sometimes see his soul in the emotion that falls from his mouth. Listening changes completely I change completely. To feel his lips on my fingertips, to soak him up, to have him always close. 
Sometimes it feels like a dream, but dreams are for sleepers and I’m wide awake. I’m at my best beside him at my happiest in his arms. In goodbye the only sadness lies.