The Forgotten

A Master

A Hand

A Talent

A dollar

A Path

A dream

A cottage by a stream

 

A fire

A kettle

A hearth

A home

A place well known

 

A rock

A measure

A portion

A slice of bread

A hunger unfed

A Little bit

A Little late

A baulking at the gate

 

A shot in the dark

Blindly

Wildly

A grave

A robbing

A deep throbbing

An empty hand

Nothing left to make stand

 

A white flag

A hoard

A valley

A flooding

Open arms welcome a home coming

 

A giving in

A new resolve

A puzzle solved

A planting of feet

Walking firmly up the street

 

A door

A Window

A path

A gate

It’s Never too late

 

A flower

A garden

A kettle

A hearth

A home

A place well known.

For Miss B.

Now hearken to my voice

 

Winter is upon us

And the frost of distance creeps into my heart

 

Whence have you gone?

Whence shall my eye’s rest upon you?

 

Do not stay your heart from mine

for Winter is upon us

The buds of Spring lie dormant

 

Waiting

Waiting

Waiting

 

The sun is cooled

And the earth lies in rest

 

Waiting

Waiting

Waiting

 

It longs earnestly

Summoning its strength

 

Waiting

Waiting

Waiting

 

When shall mine eyes rest upon you

And Spring fill my heart?

The Country

In the country

There is life

Sit quietly

It will tumble over you

Slowly becoming thunderous as you open yourself to it

Life is here

 

Urban Chaos challenges it

Unable to hear anything above its own din

It asks

 

‘What do you have to offer?”

 

The cafes hum like a hive of bees

It watches nature through a wall of glass

Lattes and loose change clink and chatter to themselves

 

Gravelled footsteps walk the path

And tourists carry prizes from places they’ve been

The dirt stains their white shoes

They wipe it off and grimace

 

Nature sits and watches quietly

Keeping its judgment to itself

The Edge

I sit on the edge of anxiety

But it finds no foothold today

Small voices attempt to regain their strongholds

but they are made silent

One screams..

“Are you certain?!”

I reply, quiet and firm

“Yes, you are complete, therefore return to where you came , and be heard no more.”

I am lifted

My feet do not touch earth

I am air

All burdens are buried

And I am one with the wind

I only hold that which I desire

And that which makes me whole.

The Currawongs

The Currawongs enter the garden today

A surprise

For they are Strangers

They flock

A little fear tugs its way into my heart

Superstitions warn me of a bad omens

Do I welcome them or frighten them away?

Will they come to stay or do they forewarn?

They show fearlessness

Only the Minor Birds welcome them as friends

Willy is no where to be seen and he is King!

He awaits their leave

Knowing danger lurks

I watch from the shadows

And wait to see if they are reckless

But they maintain themselves

They hold power

And they know it

I shall wait to see if they show themselves friends or fiends.

Nina

Nina sing yourself to me

Tell the world about sadness and despair

You know it well

Lazy calm oozes

I sit on the front porch

Imagining I am in the deep south

Sing Nina!

Tell me of despair that I will never know

The blues and the Sun collaborate

Strangely made for each other

Heat and heartache

Smelted together in smooth sympatico waves.