Wheelchair Olympics

Hardly wheelchair Olympics, dumped in a corner
Carer giggles with friends minus little Jack Horner
Waiting for the nurse like furniture in the hall
Conversations are worse- like I'm not there at all.
Speak at me! I feel I should scream
I still exist outside your disabled dream
I'm not a geriatric who likes the odd tipple
My spirit survives; intellect is no cripple
My eye absorbs all art; my heart feels deep the prose
I live every classic part minus the waist down to the toes.
Hardly wheelchair Olympics, touring Sainsbury's with a guide
Inspecting every joint of meat, clinging to my pride
'Anything you've forgotten? ' my helper opts to talk
'Only a bag of frozen peas, and the ability to walk.'
Self pity, someone will say, some naive cheeky chappy
Whlie i sit in cold light of day, waiting for my nappy.
Talking louder is a prerequisite
As they stop with grin so plastic
Manners to be exquisite
When conversing with a 'spastic'

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poem by Kevin East
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Oh I Do Like To Die Beside The Seaside

Oh, i would like to die beside the seaside
In dreams that set me free
My spirit blowing out to sea
Body ceasing to be in this wild deep cemetery.
Wonders cast will fill my soul
While my past on tide will roll.
To breathe the one clean air
To find her in dreams somewhere
One foot on Heaven's stair
-But then i wake up in a chair.
Oh i would like to die beside the seaside
Sunlit diamonds scatter the ocean
As seabirds, freebirds, chatter in motion
And schools of whales teach love and devotion
The haunted songs that they bring
Across deepest waters ring.
As i climb to nimbus height
Flying like a roguish kite, embracing blue moonlight
Chasing dancing stardust sprite
On fiery journey burning bright

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poem by Kevin East
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The Film Of Love

To those who have heard the Cuckoo
Before I.
Or remembered
The lights on the lake.
Whose tears have fallen away from the crowd.
And their golden thoughts escaped unwet
From the silver rain.
To those who have danced
In the garden of paradise
Where feelings grow.
With a dream lover
Naked as a flame.
Realising
Everyday.
It is
Beauty making love to beauty.
The film of love.

Like that passing embrace of a stranger.
Sweet notes you will never hear again,

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poem by Kevin East
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No Strings

Nothing written, nothing spoken or sung
But the poetry is there just the same
No recollection that a bell was ever rung
But tell that to my heart when you speak my name.
And midnight will never take you from me.
Free like the wind together, now we run,
Blind lonely years but now our eyes see
Our tears drying in the morning sun.

No moonlight or roses cling to cottage door
But memory paints a softer hue.
My guitar lies upon the floor
Unplucked, my tune still reaches you.
And every kiss you blew to me
Stolen by the breeze for eternity
Returned to my lips on morning new
With perfume only made for you.

No string quartet, fanfare or dulcet tone
But music fills the room just the same

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poem by Kevin East
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You Kiss My Heart

You kiss my heart
With words from afar.
And touch my hand,
You are
My maiden
You stand
Forever flowing in white.
With glowing dreams
In darkest night.
And warm me
With shivers of love.
That tingle
Mingle
In my soul.
Whenever beauty in verse
Is read from heaven's scroll.
And stars cry tears
Of the universe,
Then glisten with sunlight they had stole.
From a million years ago.

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poem by Kevin East
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Believe

As trees are robbed of Autumn leaf
New colours congregate beneath
A tapestry just He could weave;
Sunset reminds us to believe.
Dawn's kiss awakes the winged choir
As dewdrops flee the leaves to bask
In promised warmth across our shire
As morning mist removes its mask
Sweet childhood memories retrieved
And seeing is to be believed.
With Winter's breath the night is sealed
A starlit Eden is revealed, moon rising over open field
And muted trees that long to speak of frozen beauty,
Tonight just creak; silly people never stop to muse
Just shake the stardust from their shoes
For such times we all then grieve
Life's sonnet rhymes when we believe.
From Winter's bite comes Spring's soft kiss
And Nature's metamorphosis
From shrouded, clouded angry sky

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poem by Kevin East
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Simply.

How wonderful it will be
When all our waves are calmed.
All our fears unloaded.
To walk hand in hand
Through colours that exploded
In flowers
With Heaven's scent.
And
This love that almost died
Now
Like Lazarus defied
Death's silent sting.
God knows our everything
It blows upon the wing.
Then
Lights fields of purple and blue.
That patience
That only love grew.
Simply
All we were destined to do.

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poem by Kevin East
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There Is Love

There are diamonds of the night.
And dancing flames
On walls
By lamplight.
There once was a crescent moon
Where golden promises hung.
And a ballerina pirouetting
As cathedral bells
Through dreams
Were rung.
There are flowers
That dance to the breeze
Holding hands
To rhapsodies.
In pink and blue.
Then there is love
And me.
And you.

There are mighty waves

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poem by Kevin East
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A Slide Show Of Sparks.

Will you let me
Take you
To places you have never been.
A taste of tangerine
In summer kiss.
Our bodies hiss
Like a snake in Eden.
The poem that I posted
On a subway wall
Echoed through streets of your mind.
As you heard love ache
Flashing neon exploded
At our wake.
As Prince met his Princess
By chance to find.

Will you let me
Heal you, reveal you.
Where naked wanton lust
Was dispelled by blue stardust

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poem by Kevin East
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Any Love

Your candelabra from cousin Barbara
The softest lighting for the hardest heart
You have your trinkets, you wear your mink It's
So very you just acting out a part.
You've had your botox you wear your low frocks
Say you only want to be alone
All very Dietrich a very cool pitch
So many rings, unlike your telephone.
You have your shag pile you wear your false smile
That 'mirror' face- you think you're sex on a stick
You loathe to cook love, take off your white glove
And utter 'Garcon' as your fingers click.
You top the charts of lonely hearts
Your only friend, the falling rain
But lady take heed as you struggle and bleed
Because any love will leave you pain.
He's such a Lothario, A perfect scenario
A winer- diner working from a script
Never fell in love though once he tripped
A heart not torn but slightly ripped.

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poem by Kevin East
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