James Sinclair Poems

Love and music are much the same,
both ailing dreams and timpani barrage.
The smallest note,
In the smallest song,
...

Death has marked this holy place
With stains as black as night.
Woe has crept across the stars and plucked them out of sight
Colours fade into grey and love has lost its spell
...

if sweet sugar is the lust of the mouth
if music is the yearning of the ear
if the sun rises east, then she is south
If love is war then she is the frontier
...

What can a pen at best be-trove
To paper stains that Ink has spread,
Though words we use to speak the truth
Ink dark thoughts inscribed in our head
...