Oh! Moon bright Lady of the night sky.

My Lord Pan of the green woodlands.

To you both I send the tears I cry.

Oh! Moon bright Lady of the night sky.

I long to be enfolded in  Divinity’s sigh.

Held safe in sensitive, protective hands.

Oh! Moon bright Lady of the night sky.

My Lord Pan of the green woodlands.

© Carolina de la Cruz – The Vixen of Verse – 2015.

Melting Pot

A Rumanian mother, an Irish father, a Belgian grandmother,

And a French grandfather, I am quite a mixture, born in England,

Was schooled by strict Irish nuns and finished my education at the Sorbonne!

I speak English, a little Gaelic, fluent French and enough Rumanian to get by.

I love to sing-in French-mostly songs by Edit Piaf. I write poetry and plays in English.

I went to the Cannes Film Festival where my short play won a prize.

There I met and fell in love with a baseball playing American, we got married!

We produced twin boys named Dexter and Brandon. They were healthy boys.

Dexter went into the Air force served in Afghanistan and survived unscathed

Brandon became a famous opera singer of whom I was so very proud.

©Carolina de la Cruz -The Vixen m  Verse – 2015.


The Passenger


She teetered up the central aisle of the bus

in a pair of pale lemon patent 5 inch heeled shoes,

which picked out the lemon colour in the pattern of her blouse.

She wore tight, skinny, black jeans on her fantastic model-perfect figure.

A short, black leather biker jacket finished off the outfit.

Her hair had long careless, brown curls, complemented by blonde highlights.

Nothing careless about this hairstyle, it must have taken hours!

Shampoo, conditioner, curl control spray, styling wax,

ionic hairdryer, straighteners, hairspray and finally shine spray!

Her skin was an even, blemish free, golden tan colour,

but it wasn’t achieved by spray tans or from out of a bottle;

rather by birth, à white mother and an Asian father.

It gave her a lovely colour the envy of most of her paler friends.

Her small, neat, black leather, handbag was slung over her shoulder.

Two women on the bus commented loud enough for everyone to hear,

about the young woman’s very high lemon coloured heels.

She pretended not to hear, waited for the bus to stop,

then the doors opened with a swishing whisper of a sound.

Holding onto a safety rail with one hand, she lowered herself from platform to pavement.

Without a single wobble of the 5 inch heels , she made it look elegantly easy.

The whole bus watched her as she tottered with small, determined steps

towards the tram stop, just as the tram pulled into the Oldham Mumps station.

The soft swishing noise of the tram’s brakes accompanied her walk onto the tram.

The doors closed behind her, the tram set off, the vision of loveliness was gone.


© Tom Page – tram photograph.

©Carolina de la Cruz – The Vixen of Verse – 2015.


Haiku 1 – Raindrops

Sky falling raindrops

driven against dark windows,

beat steadfast tatoo!

Haiku 2 – Umbrellas

Bright, coloured circles,

raindrops – like diamonds – glisten

patterns, colours gleam.

Haiku 3 – Wellington Boots

Paddington wore them,

as he splashed through puddles;

happy little bear!

All ©Carolina de la Cruz – The Vixen of Verse – 2015.

Holy Laughter

What makes God laugh?

The fact that he is not alone,

I’m not referring to Jesus either.

I mean the Goddess with whom he shares his life.

He created us in two images, male and female,

He made sure one could not produce a child without the other.

He created night to be followed by day,

Day always followed by night.

He created light to brighten the darkness,

Then dark from which will come the light, his light.

Opposites but equals, each needs the other.

So when God stops laughing he will introduce us to Goddess.

Then we can pray to either or both of them.

It won’t matter, it will have the same effect.

Just as God has many names like Lord, Father, Emanuel;

So has Goddess, she is Lady, Mother and Brighid.

So human male or human female our holy family is complete.

Let’s sing hallelujah! Send our joy and love to Goddess and God!

©Carolina de la Cruz – The Vixen of Verse – 2015


Family Love


Familial Love is not what it seems,

Portrayed daily; the perfect family on TV.

It haunts our minds, our night-time dreams.

Familial love is not what it seems.

Away from prying eyes it falls apart at the seams.

Not one member sees my tears, listens to my plea

Familial love is not what it seems.

Portrayed daily; the perfect family on TV.

©Carolina de la Cruz – The  Vixen of Verse – 2015



13 of 30

Your skin is warm, smells of aftershave
Hugo Boss or Jean-Paul Gaultier, confused by smell
Your mouth searches out mine and we kiss.
Softly gentle at first but then, more insistant
With probing tongues we taste each other’s taste.
You taste of Pepperoni pizza and potato wedges.
As do I although perhaps you can taste Ben and Jerry’s.
Either way you don’t seem to mind what I taste of.
Your strong fingers gently part the lips of my vagina,
I panic; will it become wet or will I need lube?

Have I got any in my ‘special’ drawer?
Oh! What on Earth am I doing? What is happening?
Hell, I can’t say stop now can I?
Suddenly I realise you have stopped.
“It’s OK,” you whisper, holding out your glistening
Wet fingers. I tentalively take a slow lick.
I smile, he smiles, returns to what he was doing.
It’s going to be fine, I just know it is.
Come on Hugo or Jean-Paul or whatever your name is,
Let’s do this!

©Carolina de la Cruz – The Vixen of Verse – 2015.

Flight of Fear

Black mirrors, black magic, black ice
Fog in a black night sky,
Propellers whirring above us.
Outside what seemed like cotton wool
Whitish-grey, sightless, soundless,
Blacking out stars and a sliver of moon.
Flying only by instruments, trust in our pilot.
Trust in his talent and professionalism.
At last! The order to return to our base camp.
The helicopter banks steeply into a turn,
We only see ground when we land upon it.
Hearts in mouths, hands on Berets,
We run towards the darkened buildings of camp.

Huddled together in the Sargeant’s mess
We drink tea laced with Irish whisky,
To calm our shattered nerves.
There is talk of overnight accommodation
If the night’s fog does not lift.
We are lucky, another hour
And the night sky was clear.
We clambered aboard the Chinook
The load-master helping us on, one by one.
Strapped in , the flight only took twenty minutes.
Then hovering just above the ground of our home base,
We made the jump; more graceful than our male colleagues!
Then we ran doubled over into the cover of buildings;
Just as we’d been trained-home again-safe and sound!

©Carolina de la Cruz – The Vixen of Verse – 2015

Note: This poem was written from personal experience during my time in HM forces from 1978 – 1982.



Sadness seeps grey, mist filled
Onto each page, tear-stained, ink quilled
Until all the sad words I know or have learned
Are transferred from heart to paper. Almost spurned
By tears that cannot be cried. Instead they well up in my eyes,
Painfully unshed,cursed by ill-will and lies.
So I allow my cat to curl up, comfortably on my lap.
His melodic purr as I stroke him, breaches an engulfing gap

Between a reason to live and the taboo of suicide.
Depression’s companion, he’s out on the edge; likes to hide,
But you know he’s there present, in your here and now!
A sort of grim reaper, following the rusty old plough.
But as long as I can identify a reason to live.
He has to walk on by and my mind like a sieve;
Has to stop the water from dripping through.
Me? Use the suicide word, did I? I really did!
Sieving dripping water will I ever be rid of Depression?

©Carolina de la Cruz – The Vixen of Verse – 2015


Note: I found this picture on Pinterest but do not know the cópyright. If you do please let me know and I will attribute it. Thank you.