A New Galaxy
Climb on board
Let’s take a trip
Higher, higher
Rising up.
In between,
Above, below
And all around
We fly.
A new galaxy.
“Second Coming”
A child’s fingers tying canvas shoelaces.
Tentative steps out the door,
Burdened with books,
Fraught with anxiety,
Answering uncertainly.
A soldier’s fingers tying bootlaces.
The smell of polish before morning parade.
In the service of the nation,
Orders are barked, and followed.
With resentment, not pride.
An adult’s fingers tying Doc Martens.
The frantic push through carriage doors,
“Mind the gap!” is exhorted.
Papers shuffled, phones answered.
Mondays hated, Fridays awaited.
A father’s fingers tying his child’s laces.
The morning commute crawls along.
Stress builds, tempers fray.
Model nuclear family?
It’s a myth.
The mortician’s fingers now tie his laces.
Mournful faces file past,
The resplendence of his Sunday best,
The endless slumber in oak pine cedar.
It comes full circle.
Elegy
The page opens to snow on a field: boot holed month, black hour/ the bottle in your coat half vodka half winter light./ To what and to whom does one say yes?
Yes, I must welcome this new winter of the world.
I’ve shunned her before and paid the price
In callous coldness- in a winter alone.
I can only hope that by my own emitting light, I can take away the internal chill that brings on your oblivion.
For warmth can be found in the coldest of winters, but this must start by welcoming in the night, to illuminate it later.
Eternal Optimism
Scales of Justice
Aptly my symbol.
Compelled to mediate.
Longing for peace,
understanding,
in a world divided
by extremes.
I spend my days
using my gifts,
diplomatically debating:
Why disagreeing doesn’t
equal hate.
Frustration finds me
flailing in hopelessness.
Words fall on deaf ears.
Minds remain closed shut.
Am I wasting my breath?
Could be, maybe, possibly.
Though it matters not.
My heart won’t let me sleep.
Glass half full,
I persevere.
#3, Named
Hold my name on your tongue.
Warm and loving.
Let it roll down your throat.
Burn you from inside.
Hold my name in your hands.
Soft and gentle.
Let it crawl up your arms.
Silken your skin where it touches.
Hold my name in your mind.
Bright and pure for you.
Let it fill the darkest voids.
Waking your mind to the possibility.
Hold my name in your heart.
Shining and glittering.
Let it flood your heart.
Treasure my name the way I do yours.
LA
Los Angles bound
Back to movie town
The place we go to be found
Stars & Lights
Where dreams are bright
And people fade like the smoggy night
LA bound
Back to creature town
The place u want to be
True Colours
If Colours were all we had
This would be a colourful world
It takes time to know
That not all that glitter’s is gold
Sometimes the things you love
It does not make any sense
as it may not understand
the colour of your love
I can see true colours shining through
It all shows in a different light
That’s right.
Sounds easy
Writing one poem every hour sounds easy, not so. It’s an emotional process. Poetry is about feelings and how we react, both reading and writing
Cat and I Hour 3
It is still dark on Maui
The birds haven’t started in yet
My cat lounges close
My behavior a study for him
The fan whines in the quiet
Here we are alone together
The rest of the world cannot
Does not exist
I falter though words and sounds
Too easily lost in my own thoughts
Thoughts that are lost in silence
We are sleepy, melting
2 strays living as family
Cat snuggles the couch
I snuggle the poem
The one that brought us together sleeps
Far far away in another room
The cat and I are content
Waiting
Listening for the morning light