Words: David Thewlis, Image: Nekota Yonezo

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket


The moon was booked to appear in this poem,
But due to stress
and overwork,
Countless appearances in sonnets and haiku,
It's going to be difficult to express how much
I like you.
It's been holding it's breath
And turning blue,
Once in a while.
Smiling for children,
Styling the tide.
Inspiring sex,
And suicide.
A backlog of allusions to deal with.
Feelings to justify.

It's done very well for a lump of white rock,
With a peak time slot in the night sky,
Sharing top billing with it's straight man, the sun, The best double act
in kingdom not come.

Mystified and delighted
With the interest shown
By painters
And writers
And people alone.
But at the last minute NASA phoned
And bumped up the residuals,
So your poem's been postponed.
I'm sorry.

~David Thewlis~

Not quite Opaline... more like Crimson... but then again... We are not here to make sense...

Green changed to white, emerald to
opal: nothing was changed.

The man let the water trickle gently
into his glass, and as the green clouded,
a mist fell from his mind.

Then he drank opaline.

Memories and terrors beset him. The
past tore after him like a panther and
through the blackness of the present he
saw the luminous tiger eyes of the things
to be.

But he drank opaline.

And that obscure night of the soul,
and the valley of humiliation, through
which he stumbled, were forgotten. He
saw blue vistas of undiscovered countries,
high prospects and a quiet, caressing
sea. The past shed its perfume over
him to-day held his hand as if it were a
little child, and to-morrow shone like a
white star: nothing was changed.

He drank opaline.

The man had known the obscure
night of the soul, and lay even now in
the valley of humiliation; and the tiger
menace of the things to be was red in
the skies. But for a little while he had

Green changed to white, emerald to
opal: nothing was changed.

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Poem: Ernest Dawson

Drawing: Toi Hasumi

And So We Begin with a Poem and an image of Lacy Lust...

I dreamed of you last night.
You were trying pose after pose
In a long sigh of contentment...

My roaming tongue tasted the full,
Succulent fruit you are,
Probing everything.

I was supple as an oiled
Spring, a coil
Unleashed rewound unleashed.

You my love were as live
And light as a gazelle,
Quick and strong...

When I woke up in your arms,
There were more festivities,
More piquant now and closer to perfection.

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Poem: Paul Verlain

Image: Toui Hasumi