Chemistry of love

This is an old poem, 11 months old to be precise, somehow it avoided being posted until now

Chemistry of love

Stick probes in every orifice

Or needles in my brain,

If it will help decode

The chemistry of my love.

But why do I love you?

I don’t know

But I just love

To hear you laugh.

We can send ships to strange planets,

Red roses to the stars

Or a monkey

In a tin can to the moon.

But why do I love you?

I don’t know

But I just love

To feel you close.

Shall I analyse the Beatles,

The lyrics of the Stones

Or the plays of Shakespeare

To find if there’s a key.

But why do I love you?

I don’t know

But I just love

To hold your hand.

We can search the hieroglyphics

For truths buried ages past,

For love’s Rosetta stone

To synthesise it’s DNA.

But why do I love you?

I don’t know

But I just love

To see your smile.

The scent that lingers in a room

Long after you have gone,

The hope that you will be back soon.

But why do I love you?

I don’t know

But I just know

That I do.

© 2014 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

I Am Free

Orlando Espinosa

Freedom comes from knowing you were created for greatness and embracing it wholeheartedly! Are you free?i am free-orlando espinosa

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“Ravishing beauty dancing alone”

Beautiful writing


Steve Henderson www,tuttartpitturasculturapoesiamusica,com (27)belly_dancer_turkeyd1bb4ddce964c9cf53747f089a48a3d5 (1)

Ravishing beauty dancing alone

We will masquerade  as many people. We will be hopeful and filled with dreams when youth
is our advantage. We will strip to bare essentials and dance fearless and unafraid when good
wine and true love is near.

Love is fair. The karma of love lead us to real justice. People who worship love and stay true
to the purpose. Can get lost in the emotion of love. They will have danced in the peril of the sweet kiss
and can burn and roll. Knowing love is like a free and wild river. Can’t be controlled or imprisoned.

Ravishing beauty dancing alone on the moon lite beach. Her long dress flowed with the ocean breeze and
her soft feet caressing the sand. Her beauty can overtake you and a wise man can understand by looking at her
sad eyes. Love is dead to her. I watched…

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Soundtrack for March

If you would like to make your way over to the Soundtracks page the new entry to the archive for March is now up and running.

Form an orderly queue, no pushing at the back.

All the best.



“Unless Otherwise Stated”

A poem with a beautiful sense of wistfulness musing on the nature of our existence


photo credit: Shadow Chess via photopin (license)

photo credit: Shadow Chess via photopin (license)

He had not expected the King to be a woman. But his briefing had given him very little information, all he knew was he was meeting an agent in a shabby cabaret bar in a Vienna backstreet who would recognise him.

A blonde, long hair falling onto bare shoulders, had sat herself down next to him her skirt rising as she slid herself along the seat towards him revealing long shapely stocking clad legs, he had been about to tell her to leave when she had given the password, her voice intoxicating as she whispered in his ear. He had asked whether she had the package but the King had not answered just placed her hand on the inside of his thigh, her blue eyes staring challengingly at him as she stroked her hand up and down his thigh.

Hurriedly they had left the cabaret, making their way through the deserted streets lit only by a crescent moon, to the nearest hotel, his mission forgot in his desire to have this woman.

But then after, as he lay naked in a pool of blood a knife in his belly, he realised he had not expected the King to be a double agent.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Things of Importance.

Beautiful words that stay with you

Americana Injustica

There are things of importance in this world;
things that only come to us one time, at all –
things that we don’t see for what they are,
while we hold them in our sweaty palms,
we look past the beauty at the spaces beyond;
we don’t send them trinkets in the mail,
as we really, really should,
we don’t send them letters describing to them:
a worth that can’t be mirrored or matched,
it’s too easy to get caught in the nets of –
“tomorrow’s tasks” and “today’s necessities”,
we take for granted: what these things mean to us,
what these things are for us – the work that has been,
back-breakingly and unfailingly – out of loyalty;
A loyalty that doesn’t bend or give with pressure,
doesn’t burn under the heat of a torch’s flame,
these things of importance, take heed of them –
they are a gift…

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The girl in the hat

Don’t turn your head,

Hiding your eyes,

Pretending you don’t see.

We both felt it,

We both know

What it could mean.

Just turn your head,

Look back my way,

For I long to see

My future in your eyes.


© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

I rise up

A wonderful evocative poem

Random Musings And Wanderlust

When darkness
falls upon me

from the ashes
out of the mist
breaking from
the confines
once strangling me

freed of the grip
you held

of pure


I was there
would not see


to the bright
lights and
that danced
across the

your attention
enticing your

I stop
in your
laid bare
as you gaze



no reflection
of my figure
no glimmer
of my frame
imprinted on you

I now see
what you
haven’t seen
for who knows how

where once


photo credit: Cover via photopin(license)

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You can see the end of the world from here,

You can get the clearest view,

Of the preachers and the pedlars

Who watch on from higher ground

With their rhetoric and artillery,

Bombing hell out of those below.

Going to be the beginning of the end,

Shells flying endlessly

Until the Earth turns blood red.

The fire and the burning

Drifting columns of smoke

Will blot out the light of the sun.

But don’t worry that you won’t see

Because the tracer fire will light up the sky

Like those floodlit football games on TV.

You’ll see the end of the world from here,

It’ll be an awesome sight.


© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.