Mary Champion

That night,
as the music played
and our eyes met,
everything else vanished
...

It hardly seemed possible
that I could ever surmount them-
the myriad obstacles that hindered my way.
How could I break through the negative cloud -
...

Oh, hurried, harried Man, rest here a while,
set foot upon these silver-sanded shores
whose air so pure and fresh, it will beguile
to fill a man with bliss while it restores
...

Our planet - this Earth

Is, in Truth, the broken hEart
...

Thousands of starlings

form whirling sculptures at dusk -
...

Rock God, centre stage

electric phallus in hand -
...

Soft wind lifts the dust
from the nuclear fallout,
poisoning the air.
...

Borne on the cool evening air
I seem to hear your sweet soft voice,
it speaks to me of dark despair.
How I regret the foolish choice
...

Hope hovered in the air that night,
we'd lost the icon of the right.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
but iron ladies only rust
...

Vivid memories -
like photographs collected in the album of my mind.
I flick through them as I toss and turn,
restlessly trying to sleep.
...

SPRING
...

Time's been arrested for speeding-
a danger to life and to limb.
No highway or byway was safe from
the peril that's been posed by him.
...

When our star was born
is time began a count-down to eternity.
Now its dark energy is running away
with our world,
...

Pinocchio wanted to be a real boy
Though his body was just made of wood.
His heart could feel passion and pain and great joy.
But his body was just made of wood.
...

Take it and keep it safe. Don't let it go.
Then hold it all locked in your memory,
ensuring it is all where it should be.
Maturing in Wisdom, learn to say no.
...

The first time we met it was in a dream.
You were my hero, my chivalrous knight.
Close by your side, all my terror took flight.
Burned in my mem'ry I still hold that scene
...

The Holy Spirit - thus they defined you-
in the mysterious incantations
that were all devoid of explanations.
As I passed from childhood and my doubts grew,
...

Now time passes by with blood on its hands,
Foreshadowing death with each broken spell.
The shifting grains of its treacherous sands
cut short the stories our souls try to tell-
...

Roaring, raging, rattling windows,
timbers shudder as the wind blows.
Howling like a wounded demon,
whipping waves into a passion,
...

1.
The least lovable
is the one who most needs us
to offer him love
...