Walk

November 17, 2017 at 6:42 pm (Uncategorized) (, )

You walk, so I walk, we go, walk real slow and

notice our feet and look up each nook, on each street,

and down as we go, thigh knee toe heel thigh toe,

stealing past history, poverty, street graffiti

eyeing every kind of eatery, we remark and

when it gets dark you hold my arm,

and are alarmed by shadows, broken pavements,

steps, and this affects the way we walk, how

we talk, what we say on our way, on our walkabout.

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Beyond sharp eyes

November 10, 2017 at 11:43 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , )

I put on gentle plastic glasses
To reset my perspective
Grow those cosy, closeup feelings
In the land of safe and sound.

Reading tangled Russian stories
Tales of wicked woods and witches
I was glancing frantic dancing
In the hazy middle ground.

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Gym

November 8, 2017 at 11:34 am (Uncategorized) (, , )

To live completely is akin
to building muscles in a gym
Every lift, bend, stretch and pull
makes us feel incredible.

And when we’re tired and ache to rest
we know that we have worked our best
and quietly sit and watch our young
arrive, warm up and carry on.

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Coming Home

November 1, 2017 at 11:15 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , )

Often living souls will stray

Sometimes they will tip and sway

But as the tide returns each day

Soon they will come home.

.

Where do catlike spirits fly

Which toil would hold and stultify?

They’re hunting free, but by and by

Soon they will come home.

.

Forget the knots of doubt that bind

us to the clock, uncloak the mind,

reach far beyond, and unconfined

we’ll welcome our souls home.

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Computing

October 18, 2017 at 7:39 am (Uncategorized) (, , , , , )

Spent a day trying to understand why printer won’t talk to laptop – why laptop won’t even look at printer.

Spent a day delving into computer registers, enabling and disabling policies, downloading drivers.

Spent a day digging deep, persevering, threatening and cajoling.

That was yesterday. Today I am spending with my beautiful son – just loving.

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Fear of Everything

April 8, 2017 at 2:20 pm (Poems) (, , , , )

Fake news – the buzz that

Eats away at our wellbeing

Attacking our thought processes and

Ruining our sense of perspective.

 

Of course, we could switch off

For the sake of humanity.

 

Each of us has responsibility –

Vandalism of our inner resources

Endangers the human species

Ruling us as much as any despot.

Young brains are malleable

Twisting into shapes that destroy

Hope and create depression and despondency.

I have no love of the status quo, but

No positive change is built without conscious foundation.

Goodness must be nurtured, and this takes focus and love.

 

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Made Up

March 26, 2017 at 11:40 am (Poems)

In the days when hair was big she would stand before the oval mirror to backcomb, and, spray in my rosy eyes, I sat behind admiring lipstick as an art form, built and blotted.

I knew she powdered on professionalism, glossing over foibles, preparing for the day.
There were layers, lines drawn, new brows to arch above and accentuate truly beautiful eyes. Properly late, anxiety etched there too, and I sensed her tension where I watched and learned, transfixed.

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Bridge

March 25, 2017 at 11:27 pm (Poems)

Biting bullets

Running figures

Indiscriminate loss

Distant neighbours

Grief stricken

Every day.

When we walk across the Bridge rucksacks fill with empathy;
The River far beneath our feet continues to a bigger sea.

At times we carry pain alone,
we share more than we ever own.

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SQUEAM

March 21, 2017 at 9:26 pm (Poems, Weenie's Poems) (, , , )

There’s a body in the basement
and a head upon the floor
and two arms in different cupboards
and some fingers in the drawer.
There’s an eyeball on the surface
looking down upon the teeth
that somehow escaped from the sink
and clambered underneath.

There’s a heart that’s fast a-beating
and a brain that’s running wild,
attending every meeting
with the bare face of a child.
And if you should ever come across
two legs in isolation,
please apprehend immediately,
and take them to the Station.

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Stones

February 4, 2017 at 3:08 pm (history, Poems, Stories) (, , , , , , , , )

He brought down the axe
on those prehistoric stones
that had regally edged his flower bed
public and permanent
undisputed leave to rule granted,
planted, for centuries.

Meaning to smash those stones,
dash them down to size
despising their indestructible
smooth confidence, since
his lay shattered,
he refused to be thwarted by disease,
disappointment and a blunt axe.

Raising his game he brought to bear
great anger and frustration,
torn muscles and brittle bones
screaming, tears streaming in rivers
past slivers of stone,
whilst they remained, undiminished
taking pain without complaint.

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