Her sense of solitude

was lost in sunshine’s spring

happiness was humming

with the fun that children bring

In a moment far from anywhere

she jumped into his arms

the tree, so far from where you are

unknown, she sees the calm

That he and her bring to she

cherubic smile of red

caught in her sense of only-ness

before a turn of bed

Quiet in her own surrounds

happy as the flame tree can

the blessing brings a child

made of girl and made of man

She reaches high up to the sky

the branch she’ll almost touch

raised on the farm by stronger arms

that teach her to fight

For what is right, so hard to find

amongst the cloud of day

‘hush’; she says; ‘leave me alone

to walk, to find my way.’

Oh promises

Oh promises, oh promises

Why are there so few?

Oh promises, empty promises

I haven’t but a clue

 

A leap of faith describes belief

Why is it hard to find?

To lie, to cheat, to steal

Comes easily to human-kind

 

Optimism beaten

By pessimism’s sword

Negate the pathway of success

Reinforce it moving forward

 

Forgive me for forgetting

Why can I not recall?

Memory tries to shut me out

From everything and all

 

A standard test of kindness

Can loss bring it back to me?

Perhaps it’s lost forever

Perhaps it’s wandered out to sea

 

I see it from a distance

Why aren’t I allowed up close?

My manner lost to arrogance

My feelings bellicose

 

But underneath the ocean tide

Compassion lies in store

Empathy waded out to sea –

I stand on the shore.

Poem – the pages turn

Comprehension, the mind delays

Thoughtfulness, the mind betrays

Consideration, never sent

Reciprocation, never lent

 

Affectation, feelings advise

At first sight, the heart does yearn

Remorsefulness, life confirms

Live for today, the pages turn

 

Ask not what others take for granted

Believe not what others think is real

Know only what one understands

Understand what one can touch, can feel.

Poem – Taxpayer Thomas

Taxpayer Thomas’s wife would be on tenterhooks
Wondering what her husband’s response would be
Would he be dejected, shout and yell
Or would he dance and prance with glee

He’d toil away at a job disliked
To pay his family’s way
So he saw his refund as his hard-earned reward,
‘A reward for my troubles,’ he would say

‘Not just your way,’ his wife would add,
‘But paying for those that cannot work,
Like John & Debbie Tucker,
And poor old Nelson & Mary Burke.’

Tom’s finger pressed against the page,
Against the envelope
Pushed it open, took out the note, and said;
‘S**t, it’s gotta be a joke.’

‘Honey,’ his wife said, excitedly,
‘It’s not like you to be obscene.
What on earth can be wrong?
What can it possibly have been?’

‘Look what they’ve done,’ Tom replied,
‘They’ve added a chart to my refund check.
It tells me where my tax dollars go.
Oh, what the bloody heck?’

By now Tom’s wife was adamant
Her husband had gone quite off his tree.
He hadn’t spoken like this before,
Not since his days at sea.

The chart, it was before him
In colors blue, yellow, red and green.
Twenty-three thousand went on welfare,
He wished he hadn’t seen.

Seventeen billion dollars a year
Went on Disability alone.
He’d seen it in the paper
Yesterday, when he was home.

Tom, (well, the taxpayer in him at least)
Threw the paper to the floor,
And said to himself (as you do);
‘I can’t take it anymore.’

His wife was always careful
To see the other side.
‘How could people less fortunate
Get by,’ she said, she sighed.

‘The welfare system exists for a reason
And we taxpayers pay our share.
But at the end of the day,’ Tom’s wife thought,
‘Someone has to care.’

She quietly put her arm around
Her husband’s shoulder, on a whim.
Gently, surreptitiously,
She knew she could mould him.

Tom’s wife could feel him releasing
All his inhibitions and frustration.
He was no longer concerned, she felt,
About the social welfare of the nation.

At last Tom had come around,
He could see the other side
Until next year (when his refund came again)
And he’d have a hissy fit, and cry.

Poem – Oliver

Oliver strolled to the highest mountain
To seek out a magical sight.
It was a mountain greener than the greenest of pastures,
It spoke of goodness and light.

From the mountain-top Oliver saw the cliffs,
Far to the west they stood.
On top a four-leafed clover found
By the wee man wearing a hood.

A clover was lucky, four-leaves to be sure,
So rare that to seek and to find
Would give good luck for time immemorially,
Attached to the finder and to his kind.

A wee little leprechaun has special powers to search
For what others find barely at all.
Faith, hope and love, a three-leaf clover can give
But the fourth leaf keeps one enthralled.

Oliver the shoemaker can hide the clover away
In his shoe, and there it will stay
Until others attach themselves to the little green man
And they try to take it away.

Then the others ask after the leprechaun’s gold,
Pots of it they think he does have.
“You’ll never take it away,” the little man says.
At the end of the rainbow it’s safe.

But the wee little man could not hide the truth,
A lie he never could tell.
So he moved his pot of gold from the end of the rainbow
Down to the water well.

The Jester had listened, intently he’d heard
All that had come from the ‘crowd.’
He had nothing to add other than harmony, verse
And with that he sang this out loud;

“Roll over, roll over, that four-leaf clover
Become the leprechaun’s friend
Roll over, roll over that four-leaf clover
Can’t wait to see Oli’ again.”

I walk the path.

I walk the solemn pathway all alone

Others care to join me

Engage in careless conversation

As we pass the foreshore, by the sea

More join our walk along the way

As we continue down the road

We talk sweet nothings, ‘hello how are you?’

We pass a frog by lake, or toad

But as they walk the road less travelled

They talk about news of the day

Freedom’s glare is fading from us

Will we confront or turn away?

The pathway comes to its first bend

Some walkers find it hard to counter

A storm following a sunny day

A drought follows storm, brings empty fountain

Questions arise as to the bend

Is it too large a turn to fathom?

Some pursue it, others fail

Turning back, can’t walk the trail

Those left on the path take the turn

The bend being not the journey’s end

Those left on the path, they protect

Their challenge rises, they defend

Safety, security, our foremost thoughts

Freedom pure for our sisters, brothers

Can we have our cake and eat it too?

Or must we have one without the other?

The walkers share thoughts, an expression

‘Freedom under threat,’ they think

Those willing stand to protect

No-one’s bettered freedom yet

Even so some shy away

Their feet, their body, can’t take the heat

They wrestle with what they ought defend

But feel the challenge too high for them to beat

Now few are left to walk the walk

Their voice it need be loud

The few left talking defend and fight

Will the voice of the few be drowned by crowd?

A crowd that will not walk the path

A crowd that will not share the stage

A crowd that takes free thought for granted

Is this the coming of freedom’s age?

Will freedom rise above, beyond?

The call of duty has no roar

Duty comes from heart and mind

Freedom is worth fighting for.

 

stand and deliver

Ask not what others can do for you

But what you can do for others

Be afraid of calm nonchalance

Be it from sisters or from brothers

 

Liberate from behind the veil

Abide by me, your soulful friendship

Ever welcome, desirous, cherished

In times material, narcissistic

 

Never one to fold the page of challenge

Or walk from discernment either

One may turn away if one desires

Or stay the course, stand, and then…,

Deliver.

 

the Spartan child

Protect the Spartan child on the mount

Bring him down the mount and back to health

Defend the warrior, enveloped in battle

Covertly, surreptitiously, by stealth

 

Be Provedore to the unprotected

Without they do not go nor suffer yet

Support the weak, coerced, from shame, deflected

Allow those outside, known, within to come

 

Destine the poor to rise again

Challenge, be it feted, to their station

To those less fortune, a lender be

From those less fortune, a debt repay

 

Challenge the strong, brave to be

The weak have mercy, ever thus

Open oneself to the child within

Altruism lends itself in times like these

 

Be not the one who turns away

Who turns his back to others left

Be not the one who shies, defrays

When the challenge rises, prey, be deft.


			

sweet sunshine

A moonlit shadow appeared that dark night,
Bright as ever was the sunburnt day.
Hail sweet sunshine, with a smile.
Dark, grey cloud, suspend, delay.

Serendipitous was the chance encounter,
Surreptitiously he left.
Hark at the raindrops, softly, sweetly.
Awaken, she did, surprised, bereft.

Raindrops developed into thunder,
Lightning followed a partner's twist.
Sweet sunshine, smile, now asunder,
Replaced with frown, between, betwixt.

'Arise from melancholia,' the lover said,
'Never again alone you'll be.
My love is boundless, no need to dread.
Sweet thing please have mercy on me.'

Lightning, thunder, fade away,
Raindrops, with sunshine, now re-traced.
My heart and your heart, one and the same -
Be still my sweetheart, always remain.

True to oneself, true together,
Beyond the moonlit shadow, we disappear.
Doubt gone, certainty returned -
Love me forever. I shed a tear.

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