How to write a poem (for all that wondered how)

Take a pen,
make a mark
on your chest
then...
pull out your heart.

Hold it high
but not too hard,
watch it beat
then...
make a start.

Grab some paper
and that pen,
write your poem
then...
you have art.

Language of Love

I need it in writing
like a death warrant.
"Guillotine, 9am"
Irrevocable vocab.
The last language.
My ivory tower
of p's and q's.

"just friends"
Loves vernacular
fuck off!

Morning Chorus

Your face stands out in a crowd
like the whistle of a man
in love that echoes
around the streets of Paris
in the early morning.

It lifts high above
the sleek,
regal buildings,
leading the morning chorus
in a wonderful procession.

It dances along the surface
of the Seine,
causing ripples
of excitement
in my heart.

Up and through the Louvre
it cascades
like a waterfall of renaissance,
gathering strength
as it goes.

As it reaches the Bastille,
the song
of your resplendent nature
ferments into
a triumphant revolutionary fanfare.

Your rapturous day spring hymn
leaps into the sea above,
escaping its worldly cage
with the grace of a flying fish
jumping with a hastened evolution.

And, at this moment,
the suns glorious beams
fill the balloon
that is our eternal horizon
with your very Being.

You breath life into me.

An Icelandic Paradox

for every season
there is a moment.

the stillness of winter.
silent snow
falls
dead from above.

for every reason
there is moment

the joy of spring,
sprung,
sprang from my heart.
life below.