Month: September 2018

The rain smudged the faces
so they were no longer
the faces we knew
or had seen;
and the places
where once they were
were no longer the places
they had been.

The words were close
upon his lips
born from that true
and single kiss,
she answered
as he hoped she would,
she said yes to all of this.

At the top of Whakapapa
it was as high as they could get,
the wine was white,
the snow and mountain too,
but the bunch of roses
was red and starkly bright
offered there to you.

The sea is close upon the shore,
gull swoops low over the wave
with wing tip brushing the white foam;
the heart is close upon the home,
wind breathes under the door
as finger tips fall short of the touch.

The blackbird,
with its yellow beak,
chirps a cheerful tune
on Sunday morning;
with anticipation,
it cocks its head to one side
and eyes up the bread
in my hand.

The trees planted on the clay slope
will stop the bank from falling
and will, in time, give us shade
and under their branches
the outcast shall find shelter
and the child his home.

There were gaps in the years
between the two friends,
some regrets, some sadness
at the chances not taken
but warmth and laughter too
and enough tales to tell
about the faces and places
gathered from the road
passing through

The poor man is nailed to the door,
his heaving ribs make a mockery
of the charge laid upon is all;
the earth produces an abundance,
sufficient for the poor man and I.

Intruder stalks the shadows
of distraction and deception,
lays waste our humble lives
and buries us in the tomb
of one thousand lies;
my door was locked,
the intruder carries no blame,
they didn’t even knock.

His heart is a coloured light
The switch is always on
His song a rainbow
Hovering in dark skies
He writes in chalk
A prophet of the sidewalk
He is a friend of mine
His heart is a coloured light.