Boxing Day Exchange

December 26, 2012 at 8:51 am (literature, philosophy, Poems, poetry, Stories) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

We are in the queue,

me and you, we know it too:

our front line fallen.

Best not push too hard

or we’ll be displaced

and lives could tumble.

.

If we two could pick

any darn box we desired,

ours would be blood red,

filled with comrades lost

when choices were made

by God, them or us.

.

But we can only

push on with compromised hope,

chipped swords and hearts drawn

in desperation.

Come, let us exchange

pretty distractions.

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Computer Generation

December 21, 2012 at 6:58 pm (history, literature, philosophy, Poems, poetry, sociology, Stories) (, , , , , , , , , , , , )

He was once a real boy;

distinctly she remembered him

holding her hand and looking her in the eye.

.

These days, to gain his attention

she wore prescription 3D glasses

and sat in a life-simulating gaming chair;

unsure whether the blurred edges he exhibited

were the result of his stereoscopic obsession,

a definite change in generational perspective,

or the tears in her empty nest eyes.

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One Missed Call

November 29, 2012 at 8:26 pm (literature, philosophy, Poems, poetry, Stories) (, , , , , , , , , )

Did I miss your call?

I heard that you were passing.

tick tock, tick tock, tick…

 

no message

 

… only the sound of wings

 

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Building Affinity

November 19, 2012 at 12:00 am (literature, philosophy, Poems, poetry, politics, Stories) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

War is a wasted land,

a wounded state where none may truly live,

so may not be defended;

whose deep ravines, made from dry, parted lips,

wide, fearful eyes, and broken homesteads,

are empty of prophet, in death, devoid of meaning;

where the very skin of earth is cut,

and love lies bombed and bleeding.

But

Courage can be a capital city

a freehold space where opponents come to sit

and hope be ever mended;

whose public belvederes and bowers, made strong

by transparent rumination and debate

all teem with life, in truth, where words have meaning;

where the very heart of earth is put,

and peace upheld with feeling.

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Hotfoot

October 22, 2012 at 7:42 am (literature, philosophy, Poems, poetry) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Thing about souvenirs of time gone past
you make to move they try to hold you fast
the hands they used to tie her with their warnings to the gate
brought out the knife to cut her tether and a reason for escape

There is no running when your feet are bound
those too full arms will pin you to the ground
she would wear no shoes of lead now or the wishes of the dead
now running free was playing on her cards and dancing in her head

Turns out running is a thing she had to do
because this life was in a hurry she was too
she ran till no-one tried to stop her then she stopped –

Thing about travelling life so hard and fast
is the love you leave behind your running past.

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Missing

October 2, 2012 at 7:19 pm (literature, Poems, poetry) (, , , , )

ead with an eagle’s eyes
pen canyons
hine beacons in the dark
T  H  I  N  K   W  I  T  H   M  E

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Beyond the Valley

September 21, 2012 at 9:04 am (Poems) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

The night fire blazes
casting shadows across the hills
acrid smoke scorching the throats of trees

They hold their ground
wrapping order in roots regrouping
on ancient acclivities and in wiser minds.

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Lost

June 29, 2012 at 12:15 pm (Poems) (, , , , , , , , , )

There is no way back

through the darkness of the woods

once the path is sold.

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Lost Gardens

June 10, 2012 at 4:55 pm (Poems) (, , , , , , , , , )

Spilled seed

transient too

life limited bounty

so easy to neglect and lose

move on

 

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