Absolution

I walk beyond the fatal shore

to see what gaze can bring

and dance like a disciple

rescued by the leader’s ring

will he answer all my prayers

and welcome me to home

and be the man I always hoped

would save me from alone

the wind howls in the morning mist

and hollers strident dreams

when I walk past that fatal shore

nothing is as it seems

the distant cry from moonlit sky

the sudden chance that storm

would tolerate another cause

and keep so many warm

I hear it in horizons –

yet to see what can become

like a photographic still shot

abandoned by the sun

as I walk by it feels so shy

yet heats toward the core

sensing a shimmer out at sea

I’ll never want for more

and if my treasured trove is found

I’ll welcome others in

vow to remain a measured strain

absolved of all my sins.

out of many

Because one said so

is it true

who else says it’s so –

do you

 

because one warrants

you agreed

who else will agree

with thee

 

because one stands tall

do you stand too

does anyone else stand tall

with you

 

out of many, one –

(e pluribus unum) –

thirteen letters

scattered some

 

emblazoned seal

in eagle’s beak

diversified –

it’s you one seeks

to be one day

 

though many tried –

 

it’s you the one

most deified.

The religion of football

Religion comes in many forms – Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism – and then there is football. September is finals time for Australian Rules Football (AFL) and it is at this time of the year that this religion comes into its own, for it is a time all football fans celebrate the essence of togetherness, the discipline that football teaches.

AFL is followed by more fans than any other sport in Australia. It is the primary game we play in winter, and was originally derived by cricketers who wanted to play a sport that would keep them fit in the off-season. The people flocked to the game and it became the greatest of all spectator sports.

It attracted young men with a future that seemed all but lost before football came to town

Yet what type of spectator did this new-found game attract? It was the kind of game that gave young men a chance to pick themselves up from the ashes of unemployment and wealthy businessmen the ability to provide those young men with a future that seemed all but lost before football came to town.

It gave ordinary folk the chance to come to the game, sit in the pricey seats or stand in the standing-room only area, paying little to mix with those from a different background.

And there’s the rub.

AFL is a game that does not recognise colour or creed

AFL is a game, even today, especially today, that does not recognise colour or creed. It does not care whether you are black, brown, yellow or white. It has no concern whether you come from the rough  end of the sticks or the wealthy suburbs.

And neither do the spectators. With standing room a thing of the past, there is nothing left (other than the corporate boxes) to divide the rich from the poor. There is as much of a chance that the man or woman, adult or child, sitting next to you could be your best friend as they could a perfect stranger or an enemy in business, They may come from the other part of town, or a different town altogether. They could as well be a merchant banker as they could a carpenter, a retailer or a teacher. The child sitting in front of you could as well be educated in the public school system as he could the most toffee-nosed private school in suburban Melbourne.

These players have names like Christian Petracca, Travis Varcoe, Lin Jong, Mason Cox and Anthony McDonald-Tipungwuti. They come from many and varied backgrounds, like the spectators watching their every move

Looking out to the field, the 100,000 fans see the players, running up and down, kicking and chasing, hand-passing and following, marking and celebrating a goal. These players have names like Christian Petracca, Travis Varcoe, Lin Jong, Mason Cox and Anthony McDonald-Tipungwuti. They come from many and varied backgrounds, like the spectators watching their every move.

Petracca’s heritage is Italian, Varcoe Indigenous Australian, Jong is part Taiwanese, part Timorese, Cox comes from the Unites States and McDonald-Tipungwuti is a Tiwi Islander. Yet they are all footballers, accepted and celebrated for their talent, ability and prowess.

The fans ring out a cheer. Their fanaticism for their team is exhilarating

The fans ring out a cheer. Their fanaticism for their team is exhilarating. They are what makes the game great. Instances abound of a full house of fans, standing, to respect a minutes silence for the fallen on ANZAC Day. Or for the national anthem. No-one kneels at the stadium that is the AFL.

Togetherness, understanding, tolerance, sportsmanship

Togetherness, understanding, tolerance, sportsmanship. This is what we worship in September.

May it always be thus.

 

NB: Go to AFL.com.au for more information on the beauty that is Australian Rules Football

The hallowed vest

To reach toward the pyramid
Atop the burning light
E’er thrust and run and tally –
The trepid traveller’s flight

To be void of divinity –
Subtracted from the sun
Brightness dwindles as time allows
And peddles thoughts still young

Sounding like an orchestra –
The music sung by one
Though whispering – a baritone
Transcends the gathered throng

Who listen to the music
As if they hear Him still
Waiting the day the christened ground
Shares its ingress with some

Relieve one of their wherewithal
Comparison attests
The one atop the pyramid
Wears the hallowed vest.

The Hand

I stood beside the hand I held

And saw it tell a story

It spoke of years when time was young

And the years in sun and glory

It stroked my hair, and with a twist

Touched my elbow then my shoulder

Romance became companionship

As the two of us grew older

Sometimes I thought I’d lose that hand

It left through open door

As it walked away, I turned and thought

I’ll hold that hand no more

Time passed by that open door

In a haze I saw the hand

Walk under the porte corchere

To the courtyard where I stand

I felt a crisp and ardent feeling

Indescribable to me

With fingers interlaced –

We strolled the beach-front,

To the sea.

 

first published on cosmofunnel.com

Loss

Loss

Oh, God,

What does it mean?

Am I alone

Yet near, beside

The one I thought

I’d have forever –

Experiences

Shared together

Now you’ve left

For better scenes

Still nothing, no-one

Comes between

The rose and orchard

We grew when

The garden bloomed –

The scent would spend

It’s time in what

Became a daze

Was it true love –

Or just a phase

Of a life spent

Lived to the full

Which force would win –

To push, or pull?

What dreams may come

And share my grief?

The one thing left

Was true belief

That one day

We will share a sky

Where we look in

Each other’s eyes

And say; I love you

Ever more

Your life is mine –

My life is yours

I could keep going

Here some more

Or calmer weather

Before the storm

Knowing that

I know not what

Is meant for me –

Or any other

That disowns

A true romance –

Who cannot walk the walk

Or dance the dance

That leads to

Disorganised array –

Found elsewhere –

A world away

Where the one true thing

Is belief

That one day

We will share a place

Looking in

Each other’s eyes

And say; I love you

Many times

Memories –

They’re always stored

Your life in mine –

My life in yours.

Into the Cosmo

Cosmofunnel continues to surprise. There’s the good, the bad and the indifferent. Go check it out here at cosmofunnel.com and see what you think.

You might want to start with a few offerings from yours truly. For your reading pleasure (or pain), I list them here.

Go on, knock yourself out. Or better still, enjoy a moment of poetic pleasure.

Until next time…

Poem#1 – Lucky

cosmofunnel.com/poems/lucky

Poem#2 – Her hand

cosmofunnel.com/poems/her-hand

Poem#3 – Thoughts of love

cosmofunnel.com/poems/thoughts-of-love

 

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.

Asunder

Oh ye, what is left when hope is gone?

Do belief, faith and charity, follow along?

Devoid of sunlight, leaving only rain

Like child, sole experience being pain

 

Doth we never see or hear again

Feelings thought to be with us anon

Pleasantly, enjoyment stolen from

A world devoid of sunshine whence it came

 

Behold emotive scene to love anew

The mountain and the valley meet as two

In Church, with steeple, inside empty pew

Song of silence sung with words so few

 

Away be gone what once was held so dear

Enjoyment lost, betray ungodly fear

What hath been left for those with little faith?

Come unto me – prey, ingratiate

 

Belief hath lost its path and put asunder

Like ship in port ne’er to see the ocean

Like parent ne’er to love their only child

Oh ye, what is left when all’s defiled…

 

And all but those of faith hath gone astray

Fallen by the wayside, gone away

One on top of other, they are piled

Whispers shout aloud – then all is quiet.