Category: Twitter Poems

Transient is this moment
of our whole life –
on one hand
it stretches forever;
on the other
it is over
before it has even started.

The hour is getting late
The screen flickers inside my eyes
Time will soon be taken
These hours come at some price.

“Hard work and tears,”
she said,
“are you ready for that?
It’s hard to get above the crowd
with 300 shows on show.
The applause is faint,
the money small,
the festival queens
rule them all.”

A sparrow in the city,
a confident sparrow
assured that he is known
of all the sparrows
crowding the sidewalks here;
a sparrow not yet fallen
but sure he hears his name.

Red wolf moon
prowling over the horizon
dwarfs the whole ocean,
casts a shadow on my door,
drills a hole in my deepest dream.

On my way home
over a gravel road,
the weight on my shoulder
is not a heavy load;
I’m heading for the river,
the green bush,
the mountain
and that place
I’ll call my own.

Under the hazy light of the full moon
he mows down the long grass,
creates a smooth pasture
surrounding the house
above the harbour,
while the neighbours try to sleep.

“You must be able…
when the time comes
to let it go…
Mary Oliver,
Pulitzer prize-winning poet,
dies aged 83
and the trees shed their leaves,
a carpet over which
our silent footsteps pass.

A thousand words a day come hell or high water?
I am not that man, he said.
The conscious and the subconscious,
they assemble the words in their own time.

How shall we know who we are
except the whisper of the wind along the river bank,
the roar of the waterfall on the cold mountain
and the lonesome call of the morepork in the night,
speak our name.