Category: Twitter Poems

He spoke quietly
with the white moon,
heard it whisper,
‘what was may not be
and what is, may not
be tomorrow’;
the moon turned
a pale yellow as
the evening grew.

These years are spent in toil
the earth is hard to till
getting back what you’ve lost
is never an easy thing;
giving back what you’ve taken
is harder still.

Now and then
and almost always it seems,
in all our demographic guises,
we abandon our humanity
and inflict upon one another
all acts of depravity.

In the workshop
production runs smooth,
the sweet working music
of the buzzer and belt
sander and saw bench
comes as muffled sound
through the ear muffs.

It is enough sometimes.
The weight gets tiresome,
drags the heart down
and for that moment
we almost drown
in the pin-hole light.

Oh, the sweet joy of the dance
two-year-olds jump and prance
pirouette with some aplomb,
turn somersaults on the hard floor
hug each other and dance some more.

A day without rain and cold
seems a rarity around here,
but it comes now and then
with some sun and a little warmth,
shirt-sleeve material as
we climb upwards.

First coffee drinker:
thanks, great coffee, see you later!
The café barrister:
welcome, thanks, have a nice day!
Second coffee drinker:
thanks, great coffee, see you later!
The café barrister:
welcome, thanks, have a nice day!

He waited for his mokopuna
before he lit the candles,
before he dared to speak
of the future, of the promise,
before he dared to look for
the footsteps that would
imprint over his, on his birthday.

Our joy was mostly complete
as we gathered one to another
and held the babies
and minded the dog, drank tea
and watched the children play
in the endless summer.