Champagne eyes -hic!

Lines 1, 2 rhyme Lines 3, 6 rhyme. Lines 4, 5 rhyme

Your smile fills my brain
with the finest champagne.
....Oh to swim in the pools of your eyes.
I'd dive into the bubbles,
those crystal blue puddles.
Now I am drunk as a skunk, I surmise!

M. Moran
09.02.07

Contemplating life
From my hospice bed brings thoughts
Of a welcomed death

The milkman's

From the crest of a cedar,
the fresh, clear warbling
call of a
blackbird
breaks the hush
of the suburban street.

Then, through the
Cool, misty morning air,
a distant hum of
a motor;
its electrical whirr swelling,
bringing with it
the dancing commotion
of glass crated bottles.

Suddenly, like a conductor
Swishing his baton,
The crescendo:-
:Stops:
The dance
Spanked with a yank
of a handbrake.

Silence...

Ernest grabs a frosty crate
And walks towards
(Like a lifetime's refrain)
The tower block.

There was a time,
Back in the '70's,
When a third of his round
Was taken up
In this, one block.

like the sandy hands of time
The deliveries slipped away,
Stolen by progress...

times are changing, eh?

Now, here he stands,
A loyal relic, of a man:
A milkman,
with pinched cheeks,
and faded beard,
at the tower's foot,
Looking up, way up,
To the last customer
Left needing him,
wanting his service:

The stoic, Lady Beatrice

He pushes the intercom:
Nothing...

Then with a toe,
He nudges the ever broken door,
Over hallway floor

Next, he calls the lift
Nothing...
Voices, a couple emerge
From a stairway.
"Its' broken mate"
Ernie sighs, "that figures"

And so...

In his fingerless gloved hands
He begins his assent, with:

1 x pint of gold top,
1 x small granary loaf (Monday's only)
1 x pot of yogurt

On the 1st to 10th floors:
Prams, toys and broken black bags
With assorted spilt displeasures

Ernie takes a breather,
On the 15th floor
He remembers fondly
A very good customer
Sharon - oh, what a beauty,
Oh, what a tease . . .
When down on her knees
That girl always got extra cream!

Now with renewed vigour
He takes the stairs once more;
Memories reminding him
Of fitter days

21st to 25th and his legs
Are shaking, quivering
His large hand pulling
On the metal banister,
Heaving himself up each stair.
On each landing he stops
For breath, yes, to mop his brow, that too, but, also
To gaze over London Town
Its changed so much;
An ever changing construction set,
A fluid concrete, steel and glass landscape

With a heaving chest
And ruddy cheeks
His stumbles onto the
30th landing...

As he rises and wipes
His sweaty forehead
He wobbles and loses
His balance,
Falling backwards,
His head cracking
cruelly
And unforgivingly
On the stairs.
Ernies crumpled body,
Twisted unnaturally,
Lying in a pool of bloody cream
Outside flat 201
Is an empty bottle
Of milk, with a note:
Ernie, my dear
Please find my final payment
And notice of closure of the account

------------------------

I
pull my
forehead from
splintering dead
that is my black mirror
my torment edging nearer

As
I smash
My forehead

Hard into glass,
A dark passenger's
Rented dungeon lit up;
Drizzled now with his effort.

Manic laughter echoed harshly,
Angling shadows from aged pages,
Kept within a box that slowly unwinds
Each mechanical click brings that certain

Heinous gravity of grinning teeth
Each one ready for tasty meat
Losing the
L

L
A
Up and Jack
Grasps my
Heart

H
U
R

T
S
slithered in unseen
dark inky