Irelands Best

To Devour

Love, come back to me. 

My heart says it should be. 

My soul speaks for us constantly. 

Even when I want to smother this

Suffocate & get on without you.

Freedom is right there and beyond

The phantom of the future way out

So much in the brake of dawn

The ambient airs,and dust call for me

Eyes,hands,names,gifts of o' others- 

Tempt my lonely pale needs-

But my lungs will not budge.

These bones do not crumble

My fists will not cease!

My tongue needs to taste..

My teeth cringe for desire

My veins glow a brilliance

Air,power,glory,truth,purpose-

Travel through my breast

O' beauty flying through my flesh

Blessed the sights I have seen

My mind needs to think and question-

My mind needs a harmonious war to fight-

Blessed the dreams I've dreamt

The fragrances of the scenes 

I could capture it all in my palm

Hold it so hard my tender charm

I need the sent I remembered 

Dear I hold this so tightly

No one will break the stride

Dear I fantasize your sight

Merely the most faded image

I settle for the faintest vision..

My blood is petrifying solid

I've grown to a stone in a grave

A dull decadent drear plain

All the life killed in the garden

This ill state can't be repressed!

I will not rest, I heavily roar again!

I will not sleep, I repeat my aims

My heart beats 6 beats,7,8,9,10 fast

I cannot pardon and lie, lie, lie, lie

My thoughts are putrid, rotting vice 

I never thought vice could live within-

Lover feel,lover hear,lover speak

Lover come,lover taste,lover need

Lover please,lover see, love me

My damned, fast beating heart says "should Be!"

I want you sensually,passionately,embracing

I want your body, that hot friction to devour 

I want to kiss the hollows of your beautiful smile

Daze into your volcanic eyes forever and not think

Even when I constantly want to smother these things..

Even when I want it to go away and never return

I never do, I want it to go away-

I am suffocating without you.

And choking for my life to return.

O' beauty flying through my flesh

I will be solid as a statue, & reposed as the dead-

Until you come to save me til I bloom again.

Come please-

Poem-Born Again by Jean Stanton

The short days of adult

How I thrive now, still I do now

Digging in holes in sand and hay

As cattails are flimsy and fluff off

Wind in my ears, it is down hill

In boiling beams under sun razes

Dear, where did my child break to?

I shattered the fathomless imagination

My bliss dreams used to be first

As guessing clouds making forms..

Dreams are now second best

And I worry as I walk along pass

I used to draw flowers, o' star shine

Chirping in the bushes out after rain

Those tranquil moments, when I slept

Now I'm holding my eyes as here I go

So keeping prayer that I remember-so

Tuning into the simple days of life

kites, and the hill, balloons, and daffodil

Youth can't die like those mimicking shadows

Thoughts raising all these impressions

With love I will remember,

The child will bleed out lively ambiance

And nostalgic sounds give me chills

They wax into my old, my wrinkling skin-

As the thoughts memorize

As I am still seeing way out

I'm convinced

That I'm still pushing

Poem-A Perfect Fire by Jean Stanton

Wondering in the pine and the wheat

And the paint brushes with the seed

Indian style a man sat there humming

He with charm stretched in longevity

Soaking in humid floral decay for peace

And the frogs slowly cling sticky paws

Lizards move further, they did, they did

These were walking rainbows with teeth

Their ray glows in the dew from the river

They try and meditate to other places Oh'

The animals and the men just the same

As the lumber burns a lavish aroma grain

Beyond the brush and the loneliest twigs

Landscape parades, covering a mystical face

An elegant haunting build, from cheek to nose

Baring painful thirst in fasting matrimony

Pure and flawless as the silk water-lilies

Tanned, the native sun mechanic of corn

Knowing not the bitter language, clockwork

Still popping timber surrounded in moss

His eternal voice wail heavenly in the dawn

Singing his customs for his many brothers

Glaring wide into his loving spiritual gifts

When solar raise to morn, the animals know

They can tell time from shades cozy on his brow

& the jux patterns on his high wide cheekbones

Lowering his face, then higher, then to the side

I've been to the pines once. I wished to return.

I came again, he the dark- the native was gone.

When will I see the cultural masterpiece ?

The endless time is hurting me.

I want to smell the sent of....

The fragrance, burning sand & ashes-

And water, dust, mud and sweat.

Poem-Artist Without A Heart by Jean Stanton

As I pick up myself why does it hoover like violence-

Over pale and dull and sickness?

Then I get out my pen, a death strikes in the clocks tick.

Feathers have not a bird to fly with.

Sometimes I try to type towards no remembrance, no agreeance.

My best friend gave me the brush.

And It was my portrait thick of paint yet thin in heart.

Can't flowers be less grainy, less stainless?

Can't water make no separation to a desert?

A lush green mountain in a nothingness stagnant field..

Words are all I have to get back with-

How I wish you well, how I care.

The navy that wasn't so gray is now blunt & all somber

Forgive me sister, forgive me companion-

Let me know what is done?

It was always the blue skies who beamed down.

To pose solo was my place, but never when I was good

It was never when I was good-

Just pale & dull.

And never when I go on.