when the four winds came looking for the egg,it was hidden from them by a mist,tall like a pillar,holding them away ,the wind rushed around the mist and tried to consume it , but its colour was white and it melted into the umber earth and was gone,the egg with it .the winds went their four ways,still looking,but the egg was broken by the winds and the the wind was a gift from elan the fair wind god,when she was very young. the new wind that guarded it put the break together by using golden wire and then colouring the top red and the bottom blue and locked it tight .but before it did, it placed inside a small coach made from a worn black stone with jaded gilt trim that crept between the layers ,it was not shiney ,it was ancient ... few days had seen it .the wind then hurled itself around the coach inside of the egg and sealed it shut.It was to belong to no one.when found it would linger in their gaze for a few seconds then as it was opened the wind would unfurl and flow out of the egg and then it would fade into nothing,the wind then returned and sealed the egg once again.
many centuries had passed ,some had found the egg , and tales of its mystery had been told many times .The witches were blamed as they always are and it was said the wind was a sign of the witch's presence 

presence.

It was a dark day ,the woods were ringing in silence as she entered the columns of oaks and elms.she had come to bury her child .she had lost it in birth and was in sorrow and alone. Wrapped in a green scarf, she held it in front like a precious stone .
She chose the oldest oak,
'hello' she spoke without looking ,
'look after my child'
dropping down on her knees she chose a spot to scrape away the leaves ,they were warm and umber.she mourned gently under her breath and a tear began its way down her pallid cheek .the oak was green like emeralds are,viridian like the sea and.... yellow like the skin .as she pulled at the rotting matter it felt soft and she buried the child ,tucking in the green scarf .as she did, her hand brushed against the egg.she picked it up and looked at it , then placed it down alongside the morbid hole.
the egg had waited a long time for this day .the wind inside howling and in turmoil around the black stone carriage it threw all its might into the stricken space so small ,but stayed sealed .
the cold body of the child was laid to rest and as she got up she picked up the egg and put it in her pocket,with no thought of it ...the tears now blinding her way as she retraced her path out of the darkness .
the wood was now within night , a dark black blue,taking the colours as it did every day, but with the 4 coloured winds whispering through low to the ground...still looking... as the night closed in ....no child was more loved.

he is there again , walking slowly by looking up ..my breath quickens ,my heart releases and small thuds wail in my ear winging there way through my head out into the air.why doesnt he just knock at my door and say can I take you for a drink , is he naive in love?a child does he expect me to take the lead ? what man is he to be so weak , or is this game one he always plays, the predator stalk , the temptation ,he is telling me he wants me , but is not brave , he wants me on his terms , I must go to him ,. is his blood pounding and is his big cock up thinking of me , she told me he has a big cock , how does she know? , women gossip , fantasize about their orgasm , she is lying to make me tempted , how sinful ,wicked friend , exciting herself , how girlish to say that , but the words go round my head now they wont go, why did I listen , is it what I wanted to hear , oh damn filth and fornication , is this my end .. he waits in a shadow, hoping ,panting like a dog .am I a bitch too wanting to be his mate ,or am I just fascinated by adoration , my mind is stimulated by love , my body too , it is my soul , the love of a man . I need it to mask my fears of failure . of past weakness .,or do I want a child , again , another , am I still in fertile soil cold and calculated , no matter who it is ? .. shall I go to him ,I do want him , he is rich , or well off at least , he could help me with my work , is that shallow , no its survival , not love though .. but its better , its sex , I do want sex , I am still a woman with feelings and he is attractive not easily though, he would not want that , I will pretend to go out to the shops , he will grab hold of me and push me into the corner dark and passionately he will kiss my lips , I will not respond , let him think me frigid unapproachable , hard to get , all those things that men think .... see how much he wants me .. no he must not be encouraged in his childish approach to a match in this way ,, he is not adult doing this , or maybe he is a child really with immature ways ..some men are .. is this the kind of man I want ? no , I want an intelligent man filled with heart and love as well as creativity , not a bang and a notch on his bedpost .,another artist's conquest .. , he is conniving and deceitful to approach me this way with a girl waiting for him and his lies ..had a nice day darling , not rally just work , while he has been' knocking me off '..fuck him .. I think ... is this what we do ? take from each other love ones , the weak first .., what if his girlfriend found out , maybe she knows... he is like this and she just allows it , better the devil she knows .. I should go to her ,tell her , watch his face as I unfold it... as he squirms , but its worse to do that as I want him too .. that big cock , I hear it again , go away , go away . words glued themselves to my mind , spin around my head, wanting him , but on my terms only , am I such a fool to want to be forced into deceit and brusque risky raw sex in an alley,who knows who was before me ... laid down and whimpering like a child .. no I am better than that ,I will let him kiss me then suggest tea ..,I want someone who is exciting but can be all things to me , not just that .. he must ask only if he is free , but only then..oh so victorian I sound lol I do not want a man chained to his cock..or he will walk away afterwards , like a cockerel does and crow

good to see you , you were very together... good
such a pretty girl you are you are

you're so much prettier by far you aregood to see you , you were very together... good
such a pretty girl you are you are
you're so much prettier by far you are
than you were before, by far, by far
goodbye, that difficult word
sombre while spoken once to shed the tear
the distance great that sped you away from waterloo
its change is in the air of time
I watched the many hug and cry
parting with eye to eye
holding onto them as they sigh
lips that part moist with fears
when again that train appears..
to bring them back
unless fate interferes

than you were before, by far, by far
goodbye, that difficult word
sombre while spoken once to shed the tear
the distance great that sped you away from waterloo
its change is in the air of time
I watched the many hug and cry
parting with eye to eye
holding onto them as they sigh
lips that part moist with fears
when again that train appears..
to bring them back
unless fate interferes

Voices in the dark

The Bogus Man

He dances in his marionette
while the world seems blue Or dark
the wooden face, a nemesis unloved
a mind to move his stick of paper and glue towards the past
I know this wind,it waits on me
it knows me , I held it close when like you
the poems are not me
alone in a bed of fantasy
the horrors of a word lost on many
no broken bones or bruises
love done in a shameful hour
no weapons or bloody souls at hand
that prowl with sharpened claws as cats
just a murder here and there
a scowl seen as better,, more fool them
unjust punishment for loneliness
never on stage does blame lie in contempt of the mime
barren musky breath from above, like a beacon or a mascot of cruelty
close to sterile wards of death at old age
righteous deeds nor moral wrongs take place
holes for the dead just two feet across
cruel lies from bibles, read at our face
pissed on graves and a mother's fair child beckoned to
a woman dressed to kill for a blind race
reminders of the chains that bind men that go wild
demanding the ropes be tight and breath gone
he hangs them in a land of frail ungodly gods
a brother, a man, neither red nor blue, the simple violet child remains
is that all he is, that burning chariot of desire
bearing down on her, wild sweating horses all three mounted
no name no place that knows him
never free