The Prince sleeps

As Shakespeare said: ‘what dreams may come’?

Lying spreadeagled under the moon

no tension there but an occasional moan,

Morning light will come too soon.

Resting on his laurels now

The leaves of which will flavour

His dream meals of tomorrow, 

And the joys he has yet to savour.

And his throne will hide his tired eyes

Imperiously drained,

He dreams not yet of how far he’ll rise,

The future cannot be explained

So slumber on, little prince, 

With carefree snores and whines

What dreams may come, no one can tell,

But tonight your dreams are your design.

A New Avenue (poetry prompt #2)

I’ve seen it now,A new avenue

Straight and wise

Like a volcanic plume

Nothing is new 

under the sun

It was said 

by those who know

But I am here 

Far from our star

Not off the ground

But far below

Below our earth

In a space never seen

The tunnels run

For days and years

My mind is expanding

To fill the gloom

I carry not enough 

Light or food

To explore the vastness 

Which I have found 

In this tube of lava

Far underground.

A Wild and Gentle Lover

The wind can so often be subtle and sweet

The lover of wind must be light on his feet

He must dance along gaily with its gentle sough

And allow it to caress him from *neck to elbow

It will sigh like an satisfied lover one day

But its energy can never be wasted away

The days will come suddenly where kites it will fly,

And the cord like a garrotte will cause it to cry

It screams among power lines, antennae and vanes

It skirls up the litter and strews it down lanes

The wind has been known to be biting and cruel

The lover of wind is an innocent fool

That fool becomes breathless, excited and scared

Whenever his love’s cutting teeth they are bared

On sea or on land, there are many who say

That the wind is a mistress who will never stay.

For the wind it blows hard, above and beyond;

Of its freedom the wind is most jealously fond