Category: Twitter Poems

She was enjoying
uninterrupted days
working in the garden.
‘Time to just stop
and breath and listen,’
she said.
‘Time to
worship and to rest,
like the poet,
on the banks of the
lake isle
of Innisfree.’

The door was closed,
the tempting aroma of coffee
no longer wafted from the open window
and so the convivial chatter
of friends was silenced.

Otto, planted now in the earth
on the hill, for all time
where he bounds and fetches,
chases weka and dances
with piwakawaka through
the shadows of the green bush,
along the winding paths
where freedom has no end.

Sad times up there on the hill.
In the early hours of the morn
his big, beaut, goofy poodle
lay down in his arms and
signed off thirteen years of
being best mates with one last
knowing look;
with one long tear, falling.

Breath comes in short gasps,
the trek to the top requiring
more than I had anticipated;
I guess the body is lacking
in the required preparation
for expeditions such as these.

We wander from the garden
to the edge of the wilderness
and parade ourselves before
all gods unknown, all born
of our own, golden mage;
there, we pay homage to self.

longer than most.
For how does one remember
sadness and loss?
Can these things be shortened?
I think not.

And I think of you, my brother,
in the evening,
straightening her photo on the wall,
straightening the crooked hole in your heart,
laying to rest the day.

Inscriptions carved in stone
Are grown over with age and moss
In the graveyard of time;
They said there was life here
But the moan of the wind
Is all that the silence can know;
Over there, in the shadows,
Light flickers through the stone,
Becomes the echo of a song.

Such beauty lies here
along the yellow-grey sand
of the beach.
It floats on the crystal waters
of the deep blue tide,
sparkling beneath the sun;
here, bush and dune together
dance in waltz time
to the edge of the ocean.

There are faces in the flames,
I know their flickering image
But I have lost their names;
Still, there is warmth here
In the quiet murmur of the fire,
In the joy of the choir and the song.