Beyond Motion
I am wondering why,
Charm is in short supply,
So please sweet valentine,
Open your heart sometime,
Redeem the fading dream,
By making love supreme.
I must profusely confess,
You make me breathless,
For all I have to do,
Is look straight at you,
Then I’m lost in your eyes,
Left floating in blue iris skies.
A special affinitive notion,
Has taken me far beyond motion,
Kickstarting love’s heartcore source,
Generating my life force,
So pull the power ripcord,
To be completely adored.
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Energy Angel (Live For The Feeling)
On a magical starlit night,
Heaven’s gems shine so bright,
Terpsichorean moonbeams,
Create dazzling scenes,
With celestials lambently defining,
Weft clouds coruscant silver lining,
Full moon becomes firmament window,
A gateway to an astral aural glow,
Electrically energised clouds’ jissom,
Released within lunar light so lissom,
Conjures an angel that resonates,
So much vitality it evaporates,
Every internal doubt and disbelief,
Ridding my spirit of all its grief,
By touching and injecting my heart,
With her uplifting and infecting art,
Ameliorating edification inside,
Giving out the vibe to come alive,
Her soul is made of energy so pure,
Becoming Love’s epicentral cynosure,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Nascarpus
On a snow settled battle scene,
Death is shaded by trees of evergreen,
Last gasp breath condenses in the air,
Life gradually trickles from fleshly tear,
Mind becomes dizzy and body does swoon,
Left with vacant eyes staring at the moon,
Conscious left swirling in spiralling sky,
The whole universe spinning in my eye,
Suddenly an argent spark, a selenic scion,
Sprouts a vixen riding a lunar lion,
She comes to seduce my soul to the stars,
To wash away all my earthly scars,
Coaxed into her black asterisked cloak,
Clutching cyan coloured mane we float,
Upwards into the cosmos on the winged lion,
Which glides to the constellation called Orion,
Here my spirit collides with corporeal bonds,
Yet every fear takes leave and absconds,
As I am given life again and reborn,
This time in salient and ambrosial form,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Natural Rhythm
Looking at a meadow, a field of spring’s delight,
with insects fluttering and twittering in flight,
chirping thought the day and in to the twilight.
The butterflies flap an unkempt melody,
contrasted by the sharp humming of a bumblebee,
all balancing an earthly composed symphony.
Even the clouds cast lightning like a conductor,
followed by a seemingly catastrophic blunder,
a raucous rumbling blast of cacophonic thunder.
Now when I look out of my window,
I see the clouds casting a shadow,
upon those fields so open and fallow.
With their grass and flowers swaying in the breeze,
matching the rhythm of the leaves,
a musical rustling amongst the trees.
The whole world seems to mimic this mime,
all moving to and fro, always in time,
as if dancing to a melodic chime.
Maybe the world is not asleep,
and the patter of rain, that the clouds do weep,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Monsoon
Storm clouds are overhead as there is a monsoon,
but no need to despair because we’re over the moon,
all the running and fighting in the street,
stops because the angels have begun to weep,
their tears falling and splashing at our feet,
people then start rejoicing and dancing in the street,
because the water from heaven is so sweet,
so won’t you take my hand,
and help build up this newly moist land,
then we can all be together,
rejoicing in the lush and wet weather.
The dark grey clouds of the monsoon,
destroy the gloom and start a season of bloom,
so all those people in the street,
that you keep on wanting to meet,
open their arms in a gesture to greet,
as the falling precipitation peppers the street,
the resonate pattering, a golden treat,
as this is their lucky number seven,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Affection Infection
When I’m feeling down hearted,
you always get my love restarted,
as you’re like the angels above,
forever raining down their love,
and I can feel it soaking my skin,
lifting my wounded spirits within.
My mind is guilty and has a confession,
it’s waiting to be inflicted by your affection,
and it’s so contagious it will spread,
my body and soul now set to full steam ahead,
for they’re infected with your disease,
that leaves my whole being feeling appeased.
You seem to find ways to innovate me,
and have the loving touch to re-motivate me,
for you give me a boost everyday,
with all those sweet things you say,
never before have I seen love advertised,
in the reflection of someone’s eyes.
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Bunfight At The Okay Cafe
Go to a café,
With your mum,
Order a latte,
Or a cream bun.
Thumb twiddle bore,
Just cake and tea,
Kids’ restless snore,
No fun for you or me.
So empty your teacup,
Fill up our tums,
Arm yourself with ketchup,
Then go for your buns!
‘Cos this is no tearoom,
Aim your sugar-coated fingers,
We’re in a wild west saloon,
And we’re the bunflingers.
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poem by Dale Mullock
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God Is A Chef
There is a sign in heaven's kitchen,
That says enter at your own risk,
Be mindful of the lichen,
And the low flying whisk!
No idea what they are baking,
But following the recipe,
This is what they are making,
I wonder what it could be?
Start with 5oz of enthusiasm,
Knead cheer in the dough,
Then heat some sincerity,
For that golden glow.
Marinade in courtesy,
Grind some inspiration,
Pepper it over the top,
With gusto and dedication.
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Life Of The Leaf
Colouring the seasons up and down,
and all around with green, red and brown,
on the end of the fingers of trees,
we dance together in the breeze,
going to and fro, always in a flap and a flutter,
whilst on the ground we block the gutter,
back to the soil which gave us birth,
decomposing upon nature’s earth.
During the seasons of summer and spring,
we suckle upon the light the sun does bring,
giving our grand mother tree,
some of Mother Nature’s energy,
absorbing her warm and loving kiss,
whilst giving you oxygen from photosynthesis,
for you see the air that you breathe,
is our gift to you, which you gladly receive.
Once we’ve died and settled upon the grass,
where the wind did come to pass,
you show us great respect,
by bending knee in genuflect,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Who Do You Believe In?
Do you want someone to come to your rescue?
Do you want someone to believe in you?
Someone who believes in what you do,
And sees everything through,
Someone to give you credit where it's due,
And know that what they're saying is true.
Do you believe in people, who wear a crown,
Do you believe in people, who bear a regal gown,
Do you believe in people that make you frown,
Do you believe in people that break you down?
Do you want someone to answer your prayers?
Do you want to find someone who cares?
Someone who ventures and dares,
Just to be there,
Someone who wants to share,
Their love without compare.
Do you believe in people, who play with lives,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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