* Angel poems : Personal Poetry by an Archangel *

doors open, doors close, all around us, worlds are being born. . . . . leaves fall stars abide I wonder if it will ever be true. . . . . The road is even pegs hang the clothes up down comes the rain. . . . . Trees straddle the mountain like green corn. . . . . My pillow holds worlds, in its sway. . . . . the force enters and I awake, the flower. . . . . on a wave I ride, to the sun my heart , centred. . . . . radiant hues a groundless swell. sun’s beckoning, Encounter. . . . . A glimpse A return. A maze. . . . . I search, for eyes, meaning, Delight, Electricity. . . . . Glamour, and peaches Like ice-cream Befuddle. . . . . Eventually, all things, are, addled.

the days have only just begun when the world shall hear crumbling the wind has its ways the wind has its ears speak gently like breath weaving magic time hides I fly silly, you are no-one. Come take me the heart of all things knows embrace as I would know you the silence is in seasons and between the ripe plum and the seeding listening to the cares we forge steel and shape history in sounds of light the reason becomes exotic. Thunder in ancient testimony the lance finds its way again these pure calls arise as the spirit, wills on opening eyes the day touches a soft soul this wisdom filled storehouse bequests new breath. Solomon A bird hovers a leaf blows my heart’s astir. In quiet rows the flowers bloom. all too soon they fade my heart has tender desires that come back, to Rest even in the sea spray, the dolphin’s jump and the camel’s lope I see you, Movement The partners are lightning and thunder but the Will is forsaken. No dance, the day breaks again night is shrugged off a te

heart s gaze a heartfelt sigh a ribbon of colour a moment in time Delicate. * * * I step from rock to rock from cloud to cloud knowing Balance. continuing we are close the lamps light our paths and the hmm begins. in the quietness I leave my body rarefied, to you. Doom would be a day older than itself. Yet I would be a fruit to be picked. The Night comes closely even tighter. I could lift Veils Yet one cannot be embittered. This holy ground on which we walk is writ, holy writ. In the tears straight fury we walk a treasured path, flowers at our feet. The moons quandary is to know which person to follow. And the skies and the seas quake for our fathers, whom we would love. A heart calls Little feet run wonder is in the offspring. In the service of starlight the fiery elves play. down on one knee, I wait.