Friday, March 27, 2015


An end - reached
An end is in sight, it has finally been reached.
Throughout the journey, much was preached.
 
Back to the beginning, when stories where first told.
Many are far to exposing, are much to bold.
 
Telling stories of other souls, got some attention.
Telling stories of mine, as well, got some mention.
 
In the end, one comes to realize, the soul, the spirit
that came to the fore, opened a door, but nothing fit.
 
A long five years, delving into buried history
opened eyes to, once upon a time, that was the story.
 
All the stories believed, perceived, brought to light.
All the stories lived, insight did give, slipped out of sight.
 
Given wings once again, now to take a final flight.
All that lay before, exposed, wrong or right
 
will, more than likely, go down in silent flames
as one, wordlessly, comes to the end of the games.
 
It has been an interesting and rewarding journey.
Time to be laid to rest, creativity laid upon a gurney.
 
Carried off into that great and glorious ether
where all becomes as one, as you and I either
 
share in the common cause, or go our separate ways,
to make the best out of what are our remaining days.
 
B. J. “A” 2
March 27th 2015

Wednesday, March 25, 2015


Reminiscing
 
There are hours when I still long to hold you in my arms.
I feel strong, thinking about what I know of your charms.
Constantly living with these feelings gives one cause for alarm
but as reality would have it, reminiscing can do no harm.
 
So my dear Xiao Ling, memories of you will continue to ring,
at my memories hoards – door -, your sweet voice doth sing
to the ears of my soul,  your spirit, to me, a dance doth bring.
So, if there is nothing else for me ?, knowing you, is a great thing !
 
B. J. “A ” 2
March 25th 2015

Last great Adventure
 
The road had, for some strange, mysterious reason, beckoned.
There was to be one more great adventure, I had reckoned.
 
Alone ?, maybe ?,  - this fair haired, green eyed Lady –
would she consider being my companion ?, just maybe
 
she will contemplate, join me – this autumn green
eyed beauty – as in my wildest of dreams seen.
 
Journeys End
 
I have come back to a lesser place, than before.
My Princess no longer – closeness no more –
After the plane landed – she seem to close the door
on all the beauty we shared – from shore to shore.
 
I wonder ?, where will she take us – to what place ?,
what plane ?, what will be my fate ?, what will I face ?,
during the days to come ?, photos, memories, out of the race ?
or will she ignore and encourage me to give up the chase ?
 
B, J. “A ” 2
September 7th 2007

Tuesday, March 24, 2015


An unexplored Adventure !!!
I know what will be !!!
 
There is an emptiness, creating – depression – a hole
that a deep sadness fills – thoughts of it, take their toll
on an alone heart that seeks a destiny with so much more.
The choices one makes, become the hands that close a door
on all that hope was crafting of  - those elusive, sublime dreams.
All that is, all that is felt, all that one sees, all that could be, it seems,
comes down to sadness, emptiness, heartache guided by the hand of fate.
Fate guides these words - these feelings, the voices of the gods do state,
that it will be the courses upon oceans, seas and all  the rivers of life.
And so, as end days near, what will prevail will be blinded strife
who’s tears cut deep into the heart, like a surgeons, keen knife,
removing emotions, feelings, memories, and without a notion
as to why ?, things are in a void, at a standstill, no motion
left to carry forward, give one hope, give one a reason
from one loved- in the game of love – in this season ?
 
I feel like a dissipating, fading, disappearing man.
Becoming invisible as my departing hour – soon at hand –
will open a door through which – as swift and sure as it can –
all I sought will run to another, and there, alone, will I stand,
once again, with heart in hand, without hope, the dream is dead
and only photos, experiences, memories, heartache to fill my head.
I will always remember the joys, the pleasures. and all that was good,
All the walks, the talks, the adventures, all the pain, where we once stood
in the silhouette of the others shadow, the others glow, what we came to know
of the secrets that make up you and make up me, secrets that seldom show
their veiled faces to ourselves, yet we have told the other some truths
as we have come to see them, having been born in our youth.
Where has she gone ?, her beauty I have touched twice.
I have to say, if I could every day, how nice.
I will – my Dear – cherish every tender morsel !, until the end.
I will – my Dear – always be ( if nothing else ) your forever friend.
 
B. J. “A” 2
July 15th 2007

Monday, March 23, 2015


SO much do I want  !!!
Of that which  I may never have ???
 
Upon the retina of these eyes
- burned deep, are the images of your face –.
Upon the synoptic lays the essence of you
- burned deep into the psyche of this man -.
Upon the empty hours of my days, my nights
- my soul cries out, reaches out to touch you –
- my spirit cries out in a desire to fly with you –
- my heart cries out with much love for you –
- my eyes cry out, they bleed for the sight of you-
- my being cries out for the gift of love from you –
- my essence cries out in pain !, knowing that you
reject my love, my passion, knowing my hope for you
- all lie within the burning flames of a funeral pyre -
-  all of my fallen dreams, of dashed hopes, of my reveries-.
My dreams, hopes, desires, reveries, all slain by cruel winds
of time passed, of experiences, of memories that haunt.
I fear that my dream will never see the light of day
nor dance among beams of light, light of the full moon
nor  ever mazurka to tunes of love – together as one.
Fulfilment of
 
I want to tear down your stone walls, lift your veil !
I want to kiss away all the debris – turn your face to the sun.
I would love to kiss your soul, your spirit, your intellect ,
your inner and outer beauty, your stone cold heart – buried
behind those icy, steel doors, in walls erected to protect
that keep me at bay, keep me away, keep me from touching you.
I would love to kiss the lady, the artist, the free-spirit within you.
I would love to walk – always – hand in hand, arm in arm
with all of that which makes up the beautiful person I see.
I want to kiss to be able to away all of your past, your pain.
I want to kiss life, back into, what I feel is stagnant passion.
I want so much to kiss your gorgeous mouth, your sweet lips,
your pulchritudinous smile, kiss fire into your Autumn green eyes
and every molecule, every atom, every strand of your D. N. A.
that has gone into making up the woman, the beauty, the Moneca.
 
Desire
 
To eradicate and be able to kiss my way into the depths,
the depths of your heart, your life, your acceptance.
I want to kiss away all that seems to bind you
to your current state of mind – your desire for aloneness –
that shrouds millions of miles of empty, shallow, painful
journeys that have brought you to the edges of this abyss.
 
Reality
 
Of coarse all the above is but an old man’s dream,
a desire for a beauty, I delude myself into believing
I could ever know intimately, this unattainable illusion
that comes from my pen,  that tells a story of, from
the perspective, the desire for, the experiences with.
That is life !, and what is life ? but the tragedies known,
the joys and pleasures of the journey that got one there.
 
B. J. “A ” 2
July 10th 2007

Sunday, March 22, 2015


You
 
I would never ever want to be a house to billet your soul.
I would never ever want to be a cage that imprisons your spirit.
 
I
 
only want to be an invited, a welcomed guest in the house of your soul.
only want to be the key that might unlock the gates, the cage to your spirit.
 
With you
 
I would love to walk, hand in hand with the pure essence of your soul.
I would love to dance across rainbow skies, feel a free, uninhibited spirit.
 
I would
 
love to be the wind you soared upon, the fire that lights up your soul.
love to be the force with which lifted, set you free to fly your taut spirit.
 
B. J. “A” 2
June 28th 2007

Saturday, March 21, 2015


An unclaimed Gift
 
For you, I have placed my beating heart on a silver plate.
You have chosen to let it die – not to become your fate.
 
You see me through eyes of a miss perceived past.
You hear of me through troves of gossip – believe – cast.
 
You cast me in a light of doubts, uncertainties and fears.
For me – knowing these things, brings on a world of tears.
 
You espy me in a light that is filled with many shadows
- from which I am unable to extricate myself, escape –
that drown out possibilities, the desire - to shine - I have
to know you, as all the colours harboured by this universe,
as they are transformed, refracted through the prism of you,
- the refracted, the reflected,  the unfettered by inhibitions –
the you that seems to desperately hang on tightly to the past
and all the past experiences that keep you back from taking,
taking in every nuance of joy, enjoying every flake of a moment.
Ah but therefore, lost for ever, all that might have been.
B. J. “A” 2
April 13th 2007

Friday, March 20, 2015


Reverie
Saturday in the arms of Mother Nature
That state – in between – just before one leaves consciousness
in order to cross the threshold into that  world of the subconscious
That place between semi wakefulness and the land of dreams
where life is surrealistically richer, deeper than reality
and clearer than the images one sees in the world of dreams.
In this fantastic, altered state of being, I felt, I touched
a beautiful  pink, where all life begins, and begins !
My lips. my tongue, my fingers tips sailed across a body
of pure water, caressing every atom, every epithelio
of life, stroking your soul from head to your little toe
and back to the world of pink, where sweet lips met mine,
lubricating my tongue in the most passionate French kiss
your motherhood has or will ever have known !
My state of reverie !, my dream, but not your reality.
The reverie of my Saturday, I’d love to make your reality !
B. J. “A” 2
February 18th 2007

The morning after

Is there any reality to ?, or is it just another Dream ?
Four AM, and again, I am awoken by a dream,
That dream tells a story, is that story a truth ?,
- a truth that came to light Valentines night –
as I came to visit you – your girlfriend is there –
our exchange of words are brief – you want to leave –
you walk out your door – your friend and I remain
behind – your decision – your friend begins to tell me
you are involved, in fact have been for a long time,
- I am nothing more than a filler for your empty hours –
then I awake with a pain in my heart and a knowledge of.
What ?, a premonition !
 
Monika :
 
Four AM, pen in hand, words begin to flow.
They speak of a beautiful Lady, I would love to know !
My heart ache, bleeds, - it is my desire for her – it doth show,
in a million tear drops that run wild through my veins
until the knowledge of, is absorbed and all that remains
are the memories, the moments ( good or sad ) of the pains
I have had to endure – your words “ be patent ”, “ be this ”,
 “ do that ” – the implications ? – the dream is realized.
In all honesty Monika, - I thank – never from you will I
come to know your compassion, your passion, a closeness,
nor affection, love and desire – the things I desire to give,
to receive – or anything I wish to experience, to know.
I feel that I mean nothing more to you than the gift
- of Christmas Love ( those black and red lover entwined ).
A block of wood carved into – intimate – lovers twisted
around each other’s souls in a passionate kiss,
a sculpture that you saw as a musical symbol (Treble clef )
An item left on a shelf. looked at but never toughed.
As always – I am conflicted – living with uncertainties,
living in doubt of where I stand and what I mean to you.
 
Wm. J. Atfield Jr.
Love Bill .
 
B. J. “A ” 2
February 15th 2007

A rising on Valentines
Resur – e – rection
 
Four AM Valentines morn, I awoke,
stiff as a board – stands a mighty oak,
 
reaching up to heavenly skies – empty –
whishing upon a star that would not be
 
a heavenly body for me – that pink cloud,
sweet, delicious – ecstasy wrapped in a shroud.
 
A surprise !, standing against the ravages of time,
- for a long, long time – this gift with no place to go
for deep down – in my heart – I have come to know,
that upon this tree, you have no desire to climb
nor upon this mighty oak come and take a rest
and maybe find, that doing so, could be the best
 
wood, the wood that greeted me, will never greet you,
will never be a pillar you wish to climb upon.
 
To pulp – my wood, this mighty oak – becomes, gone.
What does an old man find ?, - when realizing so few
 
moments arise that he might sing a glorious song
to the goddesses “ Isis ”, “ Ishtar ” – not a clue.
 
B. J. “A ” 2
February 15th 2007