can tell the way you hold yourself half turning
the unfinished smile
I look out and watch the bright waves
the sharp sunlight washing over us
and the great weight of restless dreams
pulls at my cuffs and sleeves like
deep water

You are a distant island whose sand I
once walked on Whose campfire
knoll captivated me

you are a dream now
drifting like the patternless cloud
masses slowly
but surely away

I watch you escaping our history
your sure legs swaying
along the busy pathway

Where have all the statesmen gone?
all we seem to have are politicians
party hacks who only see
as far as the next election

Their only love is keeping power
led by polls instead of moral compass
willing to cut any deal
..betray their office
...betray their constituents

Do anything

to stay on the public tit
one more year

No concern for country's good
(must look good for sound bites)
while passing the buck of blame
utterly lacking in courage
is this the best we have?

the crow fills the air with dark-winged presence
a black iron fence stands guard
doors and windows open,
life passes through.
we are strangers here
with moments of glory
on battlefields of hope
who can speak of victory
and the injury of loss?
but if the sun rises
turns leaves to gold
on a mid-summer's day,
all there is
will take a bow
and the stage will be lit
from the inside out.

.

bright downy feathers
aerodynamic form
freshly painted beak

written: 25/02/2008

when you stare at a dim star
it vanishes
then you see it
when you look away

it was an analogy waiting to happen
i left it too long

autumn or sunlight or
long shadows, does that help?
how about hawks, do you know now?

what i want to tell you
can only be said by
avoiding the subject

With clogged lungs, I awake
I cough up all this phlegm
Even though my airways are baked
I torture them again

I've tried to quit, but it seems
That my willpower is just moot
More smoke filled with tar and nicotine
I can't give these cigs the boot

I can't play, and I can't run
and no matter what the task
My body says, "Hey I'm done"
"Where's the oxygen-mask?"

Ten bob hooker,

Street corners she uses
for easy cash,
hotel rooms are costly
always brash.
Scuffed boots she’s now
worn a while,
denim skirt short, frayed,
out of style.

Friendly pink or lace
that’s all gone,
had to grow up early
to face a horrid dawn.
Father was a good man
maybe to damn kind,
mother was weak
and always love blind.

forgot about you old freind
the sunshine streaming bright as then
the lithe and limber youthful you
now tall and limping thoughtful view

we celebrate our birthday way
the sunny sun another day
out mute raindays and puddle view
the sorrows joys and things we do

SEASONS I

The branches on the old birch trees
Began to feel the weight of ice and snow
First a brief crackling to show their resistance
The weaker ones fell in the hush of the ground below
All that was green and alive died to winter
Lingering ghosts frozen still
until the first breath of Spring
There is no resurrection without a death
No continuation without a Spring
Each of us dies to our season
And we let go of one dreaming
To wake and dream another

Submitted by Geremia on Mon, 2011-07-11 02:49

there's a bird on the wire
eyeing his world from my vantage point
worlds collide

we see each other through the window of
perception
and reality takes a bow

there is grace in this moment
I pedal uphill and down hill with ecstasy,
crossing thresholds with robin's wings

there is a blade of grass that sings.

I listen to my listening.