Rainbow

Today, in the town squares of all great cities

around this beautiful globe,

we will, by common consent,  remove divisive flags

hung by history’s tainted shreds of angry pride;

folding them away like old aunty’s table cloths.

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And see draped instead, from mountain heights,

a more fantastic sight; our real heritage.

Reflective of all earth’s passion and intensity

absorbing in amazement all our pain,

this is our rainbow – and the music of a shared song.

Christmas at Our House

How can we have Christmas at our house?

The rooms look like there was a riot

the table’s strewn over with gas bills

and the reindeer are all on a diet.

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How can we have Christmas at our house?

The tree is hung over and wonky

our turkey ran off with the tinsel

and we never did order the donkey.

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How can we have Christmas at our house?

It’s too cold to put out the fire

so Santa will struggle to reach us

and so will the heavenly choir.

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How can we have Christmas at our house?

but wait, well then maybe we can

there’s a bucket of love up our chimney

and hugs in the fridge and the pan.

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There’s sweet figgy pudding and music

our voices are merry and bright

we’ll hide nuts in a massive red stocking

and drink ginger wine late at night.

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So let’s all have Christmas at our house

we’ll cook up a magical banquet

and after the games and the laughter

we’ll cuddle up under our blanket.

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We all know the New Year is waiting

and we have to work hard and dig deep

but beautiful friendships will give us

the gift of this Christmas to keep.

Moon Man

There is a man sits in our crescent moon tonight

with jocular face and monocle.

Hunter-warriors beware,

he will rock away this precious slice of light

should you prey on easy meat from a high-handed horse.

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There is a man sits in our crescent moon tonight

tickling xylophones with whiskery fingers.

As ice drops flicker

give time over haste to winter tunes,

to taste his gruffle-sung stories of stars and wonderment.

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There is a man sits in our crescent moon tonight

making immortal space for us.

He cradles kindness

in extraordinarily long arms,

and gifts weary travellers with chuckling beneficence.

The Curator

Economically, it was a difficult  time

women itched in woollen scarves

men stamped their frosted minds

a cruel wind blew till their steaming chips were down.

..

Socially, it was a treacherous climb

He clung to the frozen earth with hooked toes

vertically

.

.

impossible

pebbles snapping like dragons’ teeth

stressed grass grazing his aching knees.

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Astrologically, he read the perfect sign

and chose this day to set his sight

at the hill above vast unmolested sea.

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At the summit

he would put down his heavy pack

lean his broad back against a small patch of undamaged sky

and watch history unfold.

Offering

In the old place, as you snatched your gaze away from me

I saw our futures in the furniture behind your head,

carved from antithesis, set in stone;

you rolled your eyes across an over- stretched conversation

and years flexed and flew.

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While I pirouetted into semi dark,

you stuck your colours to the nearest domestic lamp

and remained  stoically moth-like. I hardly dare knock

at our last closed door, fearing the beat of distressed wings,

but I come with fresh baked anodyne,

and if you answer, it will make this new morning blossom.

Building Affinity

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.

Reach

The quick flick change dealt by the day

is hard to reconcile

when trauma preys on happiness

and grief tugs on its tail

and like a rusty spring, resolve

grows brittle over time

so every heaviness weighs more

than once, when we were primed.

 

But do not turn away from me

to spare me from your care

I also suffer silently

don’t be afraid to share.

Perhaps, if we tessellate our years

collaborate our smiles

we’ll find new ways to gird ourselves

to bear life’s rocky miles.

 

Each New Day

Put a light to the day

throw it like a fire cracker

peel it like a juicy banana

wear it like a fancy bandanna

open it up like a tin can

and pour it out like a waterfall

test it like the ultimate cure-all

take it for a walk and

giggle uncontrollably with it

welcome it home

and make it contented

plump it up like a pillow

and sleep comfortably upon it.