Succeed!

What does it mean to achieve

to think and feel

to love and grieve?

what does it say when we believe

to have faith

and strive to see?

but when one’s blind

is all lost?

or are other senses

used to find

what otherwise

will ne’er be gained

unless with patience

we refrain

from sudden action –

thinking fast

with such a thought

we’re ne’er to last

the distance needed

to succeed

and come again

as if to feed

our conscience –

that which thinks so slow

without which we share

no afterglow

yet if it’s there

we feed the air

and birds will fly

and eyes will stare

upon the scene

we cherish, first

like when we struggle

for a thirst

that hydrates

our sense, our need

as if we hunger

for a creed

that fills us

with the need to glean

the bluest sky

we’ve yet to see

and as our senses

feed our mind

what else is left

for us to find?

what else is there

for us to need

except to strive (and yearn)

to succeed?

Camellia

He walked amongst the many
and came across the one –
the one who made him feel
like he was walking on a cloud.

Wearing Leopard-spotted ‘happy shoes’
she was a slim little thing, five foot six at most,
wearing black, skin-tight yoga pants
that hugged her legs,
and a silky beige shirt hanging out over her hips
that showed her bare back when she bent down
to check for a book
on the shelf below her.

Her hair was black, long,
drooping over the nape of her neck
and resting half-way down
her slender back.

She rested her hands on her legs
lifted herself up from the crouching position
she’d maintained for a moment,
and as she stood up
she threw her hair over her left shoulder
and turned to face him.

When she walked her shirt slipped open at the front
to reveal her belly.
her soft, supple skin was like a baby’s bottom.
her face silky smooth, surely gentle to the touch,

She wore no make-up,
for there was no need to improve on perfection.
she had a gold stud in her lip,
but even that small admonishment
to her beauty only seemed to add to it

He felt his body changing
in ways over which he had no control.
he felt short of breath.
he was entering a place, a feeling, he was uncomfortable with.

Yet the feeling made him aware he was alive,
physically – mentally,
and able to appreciate the finer things.
he knew not whether to feel awakened and welcomed
to a brave new world
or whether he should feel aggrieved
by having been shut out of that very same world.

Had this girl awakened a sleeping spirit
or had she provided a teaser to something,
like a rainbow, that was just beyond his reach?

One girl – once. He had found his ‘camellia,’
blooming sweetly in the Spring.

wings of the dove…

The Commonwealth Games are almost upon us and my home town of the Gold Coast is having the Queen’s son, Prince Charles come visit for a while. He’ll be sure to want to visit rainforests and such but cyclones not far north may impede his trip somewhat. Only time, precious time, will tell.

In the meantime, Cobblestones and thatched roofs is a poem I dreamed up recently he might like. I include it here for your reading pleasure:-

More from Cosmofunnel:-

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/cobblestone-and-thatched-roofs-141182

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/my-kind-134662

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/the-wings-of-the-dove-142236

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/your-smell-131435

All the best to you all…

 

 

the funnel in the cosmo

Well, I’ve come out from under the shade of the tree. Now for Christmas, and my shopping basket is empty. Where to find those presents of value with a tad of gimmickry attached that friends and family will enjoy? Perhaps a book of poetry would do the trick, like Prism – an anthology – hmmm, now there’s a thought.

For the time being, go to cosmofunnel.com to find an assortment of poetry from an assortment of poets, including yours truly.

Click on the links shown below. I hope you enjoy!

Poem#1: the-sentinel-and-troubadour-

Poem#2: completely-

Poem#3: you-too- 

Poem#4: you-are-

Cosmofunnel V – thoughts

What is it they say? It never rains in Southern California?

Well, I’m here to tell you the same’s true of the Gold Coast, on the south-east coast of Queensland. They say it’s beautiful one day, perfect the next. I think it’s just bone-dry

Except that the farmers end up in drought as 80% of the state I live in is drought-affected. And over there in the US of A you’ve got Hurricane Harvey.

My thoughts go out to those of you that have been affected by the floods, especially those of you in Houston.

I wish you all the best.

Here’s a little poetry for your reading pleasure. Take care…

  • Thoughts LVII

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/thoughts-lvii-124157

  • Hung out to dry

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/hung-out-to-dry-119346

  • Umbrella moon

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/the-umbrella-moon-118603

  • Of character a face can tell

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/of-character-a-face-can-tell-116616

Cosmofunnel IV – an ode to love

Well, my life as a Copy-writer has recently begun and has provided me with a positive attitude. Not that I didn’t have a positive attitude already, just that this copy-writing caper has energised my free-thinking and directed me to thoughts of love.

Ahhh, love. Now there’s a topic we all, well…love.

So here’s an ode to love, coupled with a few other poems of mine written long before my latest venture.

I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Bye for now…

  • An Ode to Love

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/an-ode-to-love-123639

  • Dance

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/dance-118249

  • Minstrel

https://cosmofunnel.com/poems/minstrel-116710

  • Epiphany – a short story

https://cosmofunnel.com/stories/epiphany-115586

Are these the words?

Are these the words I needn’t say?

You say them for me when you pray

You kneel upon a wooden floor

Sit on a bench they call a pew

And talk to those who cannot share

 

Your presence in the holy room –

Who sacrificed so you could live

And care for those who cannot give

What they receive to those they love –

 

Who treat them like a waveless shore –

They cannot see you anymore

But where they go there will be care

And one day they will see you there

 

Yet now, the congregation flows

Singing hymns we all would know

From the hymn sheet given them

 

And once done, in sight, the choir sings

A hum is heard from those ahead

Then the scriptures will be read

By the Reverend that fine day

 

And if a Bible you don’t have

No need for you to worry, so –

One will sure be given you

 

And inside that holy room

Where words are said for me through prayer

I wonder whether I could share

The sentiment being written there.

Please slow down

Sometimes we move so fast that life just can’t keep up with us. Always running, faster, harder, to get to that next meeting, that next doctor’s appointment, to be there for our loved ones or to pick our children up from school. When can we ever find the time to just slow down?

Recently I was in a town in Queensland, Australia, called Eumundi. The picture that you see with this publication was taken as I entered the town. The town itself was like returning to the 1950’s. I don’t say that in a bad way but rather an affectionate way, for I’d jump in the car to go to Eumundi again tomorrow – if only I could find the time.

Time. Have you ever tried taking your watch off and judging the time by the sun? In days gone by that’s exactly what people would do. The only clock was the one in the Town Centre on the Clocktower. Otherwise, the sun would tell those of yore that it was time. Even today, I’m sure some of those we hold dear judge time the very same way. Take my dog, for instance.

Needless to say she knows when it’s time for breakfast ‘cos the sun’s up. She knows it’s time for a walk ‘cos breakfast is over. She knows it’s lunch-time ‘cos the sun is strong, and the shade in the backyard has moved ever so slightly. And, most importantly, she knows when it’s dinner-time, for the sun is getting ready to set. As it falls dark she knows the day is over and it’s time to rest.

But we keep moving at a hundred miles an hour, failing to take in the beauty of the day, the sunset’s rich colour, and the bay of sparkling water with moored boats that we pass on our way home from work. When did we get ahead of ourselves?

Does it make you wonder how we ever survived without those gadgets we use to divert our attention from impending boredom? Do you ever stop to think we seem to be heading in the direction of ‘losing time’ for ‘sitting and thinking’, as rare as it might be, has taken over from, well, just ‘sitting’. So we turn to our gadget. Each and every day when I try and find the time for a bite to eat, I walk up the street and see people walking toward me, head down, hand around their gadget, checking their latest text message, or looking at their latest photo sent from a friend they used to catch up with most weekends at the bar but now – yes, you guessed it – just don’t seem to be able to find the time for.

One time it so happened I was in a Shopping Centre and the girl walking near me was walking toward a water fountain, her head down attending to her gadget. She kept walking far enough that she fell right into that water fountain, her dress soaking wet, and another shopper bringing her shoes to her that had been floating around the other side. Luckily, no harm came to her that day. Nor did it come to the young man who tripped and fell on the sidewalk near the CBD because he was too busy texting to look up and face the day.

Every day I try and wake up, pull the curtains, look at the woman beside me, and then look out the window at the sun shining, as if to say; ‘Good morning’ and then I stare at the palm tree in the front yard and, to use a colloquial expression, thank my lucky stars for being a part of the day that lies ahead of me.

After all, we love our kids, we love our town – let’s slow down.

NB: First published on https://mytrendingstories.com/admin/publications/article/26423/ 

Old Sydney Town

Built from nothing but botany and earth

A harbour fore, deliverance be true.

Now the best there is, anywhere on earth

Harks of a persona harking back to you.

 

My family come from Melbourne, don’t you know?

The only one born and bred in town!

When we moved south I had no say at all –

A two-year old, in back seat, bears a frown.

 

On our return, my smile fast appeared –

Ahhh, the wattle, the humidity and sand.

A blow-up pool in our backyard of cheer

Was where you would find me and my fans.

 

As years past, Sydney grew to adulthood –

A child that had, now, come of age.

A life of love, forgiveness – yes, I could

Be that man standing on the players’ stage.

 

I sat there on the House’s stairs, watching them drink –

Vodka looked like water to the naked eye,

Donating funds for those left on the brink –

I fixed my eyes on the harbour’s night-time sky.

 

I looked from my balcony at night

And saw fireworks – New Year’s still far away –

A picture perfect backyard scene of light

That drew me nearer Southern Cross each day.

 

Old Sydney Town, I love you with my heart –

My family belong there with the Bridge.

I may move north for a brand new start

But you stay with me – in hindsight, you are it.

 

I missed you every day I was away,

Frustrated at decisiveness to move.

My mother brought me to your world to stay

And trickling water fountains would disprove

 

That Old Sydney Town left slow-coaches behind

Only one speed here – fast or you were dead

But your city’s splendour, elsewhere I couldn’t find –

Secluded beaches ‘round the foreshore’s sand I tread.

 

Under the Bridge I lay, gazing in her eyes

My hand pressed to her palm as we embraced.

Where else is there a park beneath constructed site?

Yet my main attraction was her suntanned face.

 

The caterpillar and the crane – far away

And the dust gave blue sky a dirty hue.

Please keep the beaches open – don’t betray

The places, splendid, we can all walk to.

 

Old Sydney Town, I love you now you’re grown

And the waning winter weather waits the sun.

Raise your head with pride at amalgamation’s show –

Out of many we live life as one.

Dance

Dance the dance that gives a chance

To come again before the end

Build the build that holds a choice

To feel, to fawn, via the voice

That speaks to you and speaks to me

As I look through glazed window to the sea

That trickles in reflected moon

A place I’ll tend to very soon

Before the store can empty, new

Be one of them, the very few

That sort out disorganised array

And drift so far, a world away

Before they stop and turn and come again

To touch, to tremble, now and then

‘Cos every heart beats faster still

When faced with someone that until

Just recently they never thought

The one true thing that they had sought

Would hold their hand in life’s romance

And walk the walk

And dance the dance.