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Twitter Poems

…WHEN
When I want to feel the breeze
sifting through the tree,
I will turn my face to the song
she sings just for me.

When the thunder prowls the clouds
like a lion’s roar,
I will release my beating heart
and pound upon the door.

WHEN…
When I want to catch the sunshine,
falling from the sky,
I just need to touch the smile,
lighting up her eye.
When it is the sound of rain
that I need to hear
I will listen for the falling
of an angel’s tear.

SUNSHINE GIRL
She comes carrying sunshine
She has questions in her eyes
Her heart it is wide open
And she paints pictures in the sky

She opens doors in the darkness
She lights a candle beneath the moon
She knows shadow, she knows light
And she doesn’t speak too soon

GATHERING AGAIN
Beneath the brow of Olympus
at the foot of the Quartz Range,
in the green pastures of the valley,
we gathered again, one to another,
we embraced strangers and friends
knowing nothing more than their names.

MORE THAN A SINGLE WAY
Oh won’t you talk to me
won’t you listen to my voice
we all want the same thing
to make an informed choice;
there is more than a single way
to get the healing done,
if we join our hands together
then we will rejoice as one.

MAGIC
Beneath the apple trees in blossom,
the evening sun flits between the
branches and lights across the freshly
cut grass with a reckless hope and a
defiant bravado the likes of which
only spring can conjure up.

THE CRIME OF A LIE
The paid pens of the establishment
scratch their words by the light
of a single electric bulb swinging
lazily from the ceiling, hanging
like the hangman’s noose over
the sad scene of a crime.

DARK MINE
no wine
feeling fine
tall pine
narrow line
grape vine
out of time
dark mine
number nine
sure sign
time to shine

BETWEEN US
My weariness has slowed me to a crawl
and I am weak from holding on to you,
I am tired of fighting those endless words
that reach across the space between us,
the fearful wind keeps us apart
and I wonder, how long will we allow
this fear to pierce our ribs.

POOR BOY
They bend you and shape you
anyway they want to, hypnotic power
of mass formation, oh poor boy
dying on all this misinformation.

IN RESPONSE TO THE
PUBLIC HEALTH RESPONSE
AMENDMENT BILL (No2)
Was that you, kissing my cheek,
my governess, my anointed one?
Those jingle-jangle, silver coins
heard rattling in your pocket,
sounded to me like an iron key
turning in the jailhouse door to lock it.

BROTHER
He is counting the years,
a slow march, a walking blues,
a deliberate take on each note
pinned to his front-porch door,
he has never asked for too much,
never wanted a whole lot more,
he is my brother, we travel together,
we count the stars for one another…

THE BLACK ROCK
Just 20 pieces of silver
the cost of the great betrayal,
purse strings are drawn tight
they trade in blood-money,
make us prisoners and slaves,
the last honest penny is lost
in the dirt of the mounded graves,
it never will be found
while there is a lack of light.

AN UNKNOWN TRUTH
Don’t you rock the boat baby,
don’t look for that other way,
even though it’s kind of narrow
and off the beaten track, they don’t
want you to chance upon it
they want you to turn back.

AT THE CAFE
We gather in the morning
in the first rays of the sun,
we sit around the outside table
waiting for the coffee to be done,
this is who we are, this is where we belong
look for us and find us here,
singing that freedom song.

MONDAY MORNING
Monday comes in a downpour of rain,
once it was a working week,
shirt and tie and more of the same;
now I stoke the fire in the morning,
brew the coffee on the flame
and sit and watch the lazy rivulets
running down the window pane.

SPINE
He has taken off his mask,
he has straightened his spine
and has marched past the leader
without even turning his eye.

BEYOND RICHES
Not by silver or by gold
do we measure the wealth
that sustains us in our
ageing, distant years; no,
it is the wood shed,
abundant and plentiful,
that makes us rich
beyond our years.

SPRING
The flowers are pink and purple,
the grass, fluorescent green,
I’m watching the birds in the blue sky
thinking ‘bout where they have been.

WHO ARE YOU?
Take off your mask, baby,
show me who you are,
I love the fire in your eyes, baby
but it’s your smile I see
that drives me just a little crazy.

RAIDERS OF THE TEMPLE
The liars and the profiteers
have set their tables up
in the temple of our human soul,
they want to take away from us
all of our hard-earned silver
and our heritage of gold.

HOMECOMING
We are frozen in the wilderness,
kept out in the cold,
the door to home is bolted,
there are guards upon the road
trying to hold back the bold.

LONE RANGER
Take off your mask,
let your harrowed heart
ride the wild winds
of the wilderness,
let it be soothed
in the fresh air,
let it breathe,
let it be free.

TOGETHER
I march alone down the wide avenue
but there is space here, right by my side,
room enough for everyone,
for every uniform, and every flag,
and for every song that ever was sung.

ALONE
I march alone down the wide avenue,
heart in two pieces, friends to one side,
in the eerie silence, oh how I cried;
I wear no uniform, I bear no flag
I sing no national song, I do not hide

A STAND
I march alone down the wide avenue,
my friends are standing to one side
I wear no uniform, I bear no flag
and I sing no national song.

FAKE NEWS
But don’t you listen darling,
to the words of his forked tongue,
he learnt them from the news at six,
he was paid to say the things he’s done.

BADGE
Those half-forgotten names
from distant times
and faded posters,
we wear them now
proud badges and banners
of who we once were.

HEROES
I still hear them
from time to time,
whispering in the air;
their sweet songs and
crafted words once
the herald of our way.

THE TIDE OF FEAR
The current of fear
sweeps like a tide
rushing through
the narrow channel
that lies between
ocean and estuary.

THE FIRST AMONG US
That the Emperor’s
new clothes
are no clothes at all,
is something we all know
but who will be the first of us
to make the call.

THE EMPRESS
The frozen ice of silence
greets the Empress
as she parades down
the wide avenue,
lined by the throng
of obedient citizens.

THESE WORDS
I would know my place then,
among the stars of the galaxy,
should those lights shine on my words,
should those words be scrawled proud
on the walls of deserted alleyways,
should they break open the darkness
like the flicker of a candle.

STORM A’COMIN’
The wind howled
and howled and howled,
its cry echoed in the
tall trees, a great
restlessness fell upon
the earth, the thunder
of our hearts the only
voice to be heard.

THE ARBORIST
This, he said, is a young
Man’s work, and he belayed
his way up the slender trunk,
swung from limb to limb
and hauled the chain saw
from cut to cut.

STAND
Take off your mask,
lie down in the street
and face with a truthful eye
the armour-plated tanks
of the State that creeps
while you sleep.

FROM THE GARDEN
There are none so blind as those who
refuse to see, who try to keep us apart
and drive us from the garden
and break out affectionate heart.

‘PROCEDURE’
We are caught up
in a fatal distraction,
no one can hear
the baby crying,
and no one owns
a human life
to do with as they will,
is it not the time
to stand against the kill?

THE CHOIR
They sing from the same song sheet
when they should be singing
the words of their own song;
that single voice can sometimes
get it all so wrong.

BLINDED
The writing is on the wall,
eyes, blinded by the dazzle
of pride and glittering gold,
don’t take in a single word.

THE VOICE
The mighty are removed
without human hand,
the voices of the meek
echo in the halls of
the powerful and strong.

CAN’T BE TRUSTED
The law it keeps on changing
like the cold wind in the trees,
there are gold rings on the tied
hands of the false judges whose
deaf ears are blind to our pleas.

JUSTICE
The blind eyes of justice
can’t see beyond the door,
the blurred photographs
are just the pleadings of the poor;

weighed in the balance
the scales have been adjusted,
the coins are stacked too high,
those silver pieces can’t be trusted.

GHOST WRITERS
The little muppets of the media,
guardians of our rights and justice,
poised pens frozen on the page
waiting for the words to write them,
unaware of the gathering rage.

EYE TO EYE
The little muppets of the media,
champions of integrity and truth,
cocooned in that social distance
their questions have no insistence,
their heads bowed in disgrace.

FLOOD
Flooded dreams
Submerged for now
By the river of rain;

To be redeemed
To be remembered
Flowers in the rain.

I FORGOT HIS BIRTHDAY
Well the day passed me by,
even though he reminded
me just a week before, it
slid below my memory and
was left hung out to dry,
stood up, a wall flower left
in some forgotten corner
to pop a cork on its own.

CHARLIE
Just the drummer in a loud band
counting the beat, sure and strong,
arms swinging, punching the night long,
his the cornerstone of every song.

OF LIFE
She kneels on the stony river shore,
scoops water in her cupped hands as
she welcomes the early morning light,
her brown eyes smiling like the rays
of the dappled sun.

SACRIFICE
She walks up the gravel road,
hitch-hiking through the valley of
far-away stars, kneels in the
light of the full moon, offers
her heart on a cold stone.

The little muppets of the media,
protectors of our rights and freedoms,
sit themselves in a neat little row
as the leader stands among them,
tells each one what they should know.

ENOUGH FOR ALL
And they who last
the distance and they
who hold to the end
will deny the thief
his power and greed
and the hungry child
they will feed.

NATURAL SELECTION
On the roulette wheel
of natural selection
so eugenics is born,
some would be the
masters of our fate
some would hold
this life in scorn.

HOW IT IS
She looks up from her crossword,
he looks up from his newspaper,
outside the evening is still and quiet
and a pale shade of forever.

UNAVAILING GRIEF
It is a long and lonely road,
the road of broken stones,
it has no known distance
its time has no known end.

AT THE RAILWAY STATION
The wind is ice on the platform
where people are gathered
in scarf and woollen hat,
tickets in their deep coat pockets;
hope has them bound for some
destination somewhere up ahead,
somewhere round the bend.

THE CATTLEMAN
Six years on a lone hillside,
an echo rings through
the passage of time
hounding the wind
over ridge and outcrop,
driving it like the working dog
of a distant cattleman.

EVERYTHING IS BROKEN
Everything has been moved now,
nothing is where it was,
the things that were once in the open
are hidden in the shadows,
and everything we had is broken,
our backs are bent under the law.

TOWER OF LOVE
Nesting place of the forgotten sparrow
and the snow-white dove,
refuge for the outcast and the hunted ones,
shelter for the despised and rejected ones
and for those lost and forever on the run;
this fortress, this resting place,
this high tower of great love.

STAGECRAFT
The golden calf of eugenics
stands in the image of a few,
false landlords, mock kings
of a would-be age, feudal
rulers playing on their own stage.

NOT DONE YET
In the low light of the soft room
In the sound of rolling thunder
Every dream was rediscovered
And every road we ever travelled
Took us on, up around the bend.

THE FIDDLE PLAYER
Someone is fiddling
while the empire burns
and it ain’t Nero, my friend,
it ain’t him; I do believe it
is you and me, my friend,
I believe it is you and me.

OUR GOLDEN AGE
I’m brushing my hair
in the polished mirror
of the golden, eugenics calf;
I think I’m looking pretty good,
just the way my god thinks I should.

THE SAILOR
The sailor comes in from the sea
against the angry roar of the white
waves bashing into the long shore,
the wind howls at the letting go,
the man shall sail here no more.

HEART BEAT
Like a smouldering fire
in the depths of a winter’s day,
your warmth gathers my heart
to the beat of your own,
to these days alone.

FLARE
And in moments unaware,
the warm ash flares to a bright flame,
makes a silhouette of you
in my memory and lights up
the way you have been.

SMALL WARMTH
Like a smouldering fire
in the depths of a winter’s day,
your warm ash never sleeps,
it cradles small, red embers,
in the hearth of the years.

A LONG ROAD
...I’m heading out the back door
heading for the bus and the train,
there’s a long road ahead
but we can take it,
sunshine or rain….

THE KEEPERS
While the keepers
of the flame were
distracted, occupied
with irrelevancies,
the thieves took
each of their values,
one by one and so
extinguished the flame.

IN THEIR OWN IMAGE
From the hooves up,
the calf of gold
reflects the proud
heart of its maker;
and the mirror
does not lie, it is
our own image
that catches the eye.

ECHO IN THE HEART
These were the songs we sung
once when we were young,
once when we were free,
we marched in the street then,
shook out fist at those who
thought they could destroy
our hearts and our destiny.

BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON
Beneath the hand of the full moon
the traveller makes his bed,
motioned by a single beam of light,
he lays his body on the earth
and sleeps until he is rebirthed.

BOAT ON A MILL POND
Here, tranquillity lies at anchor,
at rest with the breeze, biding its
time until the wind and the ocean
shall find the boat once again.

THE VISIT
These are the times
of renewed acquaintance,
not visited since those
days of childhood; my sisters
and I unravelling assorted
stories and half-truths
while sheltering from
the valley rain.

ROYAL
In the dried-out wilderness,
the wind twists and weaves
the scrawny limbs of a thorn
bush into a crown fit for a king.

HE THIRSTS
In the dried-up desert of love,
red wine drips through his
cracked fingers and cupped hands,
the cup in the cupboard is empty,
there is little that he understands.

THE SEEDS OF LOVE
Too much of nothing starves a man
to death, yet he ploughs his field to
stay the drought and plants his crops
and tends the soil for the promised
harvest, one hundred-fold or more.

DRIFTING
The old book gathers dust in the corner
as another year passes and we hang onto
what we must hang onto, and we let drift
away what must drift away.

GLASS DARKLY
In the shadows of the half light,
in the drawing down of the darkness,
she sees those things that are not there,
but is blinded by the things that are.

THE LIGHT OF HER SMILE
I was counting the stars in the heavens,
there was a light I was wanting to borrow,
but none were as bright as the eyes of the girl
who is lost in the distance between us
that drowns all the tears of my sorrow.

THE LAST TIME
He asked, “when was the last time
freedom of speech and thought
and the assembly of people
was placed on the restricted list
by the good guys?”
“Can’t remember when,” I replied.

YES
It was a ‘yes day’,
a child’s best ever dream
where everything they asked
was answered with a ‘yes’,
a time on-my-own-day with
grandma and grandad,
a trip to the city to visit the
Lego store, fried chicken
for lunch, a couple lollies and
a donut to see the journey
home.

ACROSS THE VAST OCEAN
In the distance lies the island
shimmering on that long horizon
and an invisible thread draws me
like a sirens lilting call
and I want to tell her I am coming
and I always want to be travelling
but I shall never want to be arriving.

HOWL
You take away my water, you take away
my land, you take away my song, you take
away my freedom, you take away the road
I walk and you say what is right is wrong
and what is wrong is right, you say the moon
rises in the morning and the sun shines
brightly in the night?

REDEMPTIONS SONGS
I am listening to those songs again
about the people having power
against this communist democracy
that makes a mockery of the freedom
our forefathers fought and died for;
come let us sing, loud and clear,
those songs of freedom, those
redemption songs.

AOTEAROA, LAND OF THE
LONG COLD CHAIN
We are fast becoming servants
of this totalitarian state and next
we will be its slaves, cold chains
chaffing at our freedoms, each one
buried quietly, in a night grave.

BRAVE HEART
Speak to me of the heart of man
and of the colour and shape within
its power to create; speak to me of
the wonders it can conceive, and of
its power to break the chain on the gate.

THE NIGHT WIND 2
It rattles the loose iron
on the tin roof, looking to
test the shelter of man;
it sifts the chaff from the grain
to make the bread, that
simple sustenance of life.

THE NIGHT WIND
I am lying in bed listening to
the rough wind knocking
against the walls of the house;
it sings through the boughs
of the tall trees and bends
them to the point of breaking,

RUSH HOUR AT NIGHT
A river of light
flows through the city,
tributaries and main streams
cut this way and that
in a relentless torrent
that crashes the flood plain
and sweeps the darkness aside.

TOGETHER
The city streets breathe tonight
to the sound of the automobiles
turning wheels on the bitumen;
the end of week hubbub echoes
along the sidewalks where the
eating and the drinking speaks to
the communion of joyful souls.

WALKING WITH GRIEF
There’s a hole in the wall where
the wall used to be, the house
is on a lean, the cold wind echoes
in every empty room; you will find
him leaning against that wall,
same angle as the house,
it’s how he's learned to walk,
it’s how his road is from here.

THE SLAM POETS
…got to hear the words
hounded on the storm,
got to take the heart
let it shape and form,
got to keep the microphone
ringing clear and loud
and hanging in for love…

NIGHT AFTER NIGHT
The wind and the rain slap against
the walls of this bush cabin,
dusk falls heavy from the dark sky
while winter draws its black curtains
across my windows, leaving my cold
reflection peering into this lonely room.

COME A’DANCING
Let’s go a’dancing
Where the dancers do not dance
Let’s break a smile
On the face of a sad stone
Let’s sing an anthem
To the ear that will not hear
Let’s make a brave stand
Before the hammer and sickle
Let’s bow in worship
Before the crown of red thorns.

A QUESTION OF AFFECTION
How much of nothing
can one man take,
how long can he stand
alone on the river bank,
watching the river flow,
before he takes the plunge?

OUTSIDE
Last night
I sat outside,,
around the flames that
were dancing between
the stones,
casting lonely shadows
across the fall of heavy dew.

SUFFICIENT
In the midst of al that is to be done
the planting of one row of carrot seeds
is sufficient for a single days labour;
tomorrow I will rake the last of autumn’s leaves
and the next day replenish the wood shed.

RENDER
It seems to be that Caesar
Is taking more than his fair share
And the more he takes the more he wants
And no one stands against him,
His weapon is forged by fear.

THIS HUMAN THING
This human thing
where we kill and rape
and plunder and enslave,
this human thing of power
and greed that we crave
how did it come to define us
how did it blind us and how
shall we ever be redeemed?

REASONS WHY
“Why must I turn away from you,?” he asked
“Because you are in the heart of God,” she said.
“And why then do I feel so lost,?” he asked back.
“Because that is the only way you can ever be found,”
she offered and then folded her heart away.

ROAD TRIP
At the beginning
there is everything to believe in,
each mile a promise to be redeemed,
salvation renewed with each corner turned;
wide-eyed and expectant, oh that this road
be an un-waking dream.

ECHO IN THE CANYON
The wine is low in the bottle
my eyes are clouded by sleep,
there is a girl once remembered
and music that mines the deep
crevasse of the line, blurred
between eternity and time.

THE DEEPEST SONG
These are the songs from distant days,
playing like rain through the curtains
of grey lace and a foggy haze;
and she is the song of my father’s heart
the joy, the courage, the anthem of praise
that echoes the depth of our way.

LOVERS
He misses the soft touch of her breast,
lingering in his memory
the tingle of her sweet caress,
as much as this tender be.

OPEN MIC
They came with paper in their pocket,
crumpled words scrawled like a note
to self, they took the mic, didn’t let it go,
spoke from the heart, gave voice to
everything they know.

THE FOLD
And firm against the hurricane,
relentless in the assault,
the fold, the shelter stands,
the door held open
on the edge of the badlands.

99
He's out on the hillside,
blowing wind, blinding rain
a lonesome voice, a distant howl
looking through the darkness
for the one that fell.

THE COST
How wide is the river deep
that flows between two hearts
and every distance has a cost
that is known from the start.

TO THE TOTALITARIAN STATE
You keep us safely on the home block
in front of our colour televisions and
our ‘smart’ phone screens,
you chain our hearts with wire rules
and you leave us no space to play our part,
you leave us no room to be kind
and you leave us nowhere to be free.

ANNIVERSARY
At the end of the first day
of the second year, diamond
dust hangs in the air
like a galaxy of stars,
dances in the red wine
by which they toast their hearts.

EVERYTHING IS BROKEN
My boat has broken its moorings
and it’s drifting on the sea,
everything once of value
has been broken by decree,
blown by the prevailing wind
the storm just won’t let it be.

MAKING SENSE
I am close to tears most of the time
I’m still not ready to leave her behind
But I don’t expect you to stay with me
Nothing here is all that plain to see.

COLD SHOULDER
She pulls the slider behind her,
I watch her through the glass,
she steps on the frosted grass,
steps through the open door
of winter.

GLORY DAYS
These days are passing
that haven’t already passed,
the sun is falling in the west
and I raise my arms to stall it
but it doesn’t heed the call

FROM THE LEFT
The winter afternoon is grey and cold,
there are those here among us
who are breaking down my door,
the smoke from my chimney
speaks of warmer things,
they’ve come to fight the fire
the burning flame sings.

SYRUS & DELILAH
In our footsteps they come, in the innocence
of another time, in the smiling eyes of a deep
heart and we shall hold them and watch them,
gifts of grace and honour, making footprints in
the trail of our own to a destination beyond
that which we have known.

A SCRIBE
What are these words that from your pen do flow
and of what is written, how is it that your heart can know?
Each line from the creeping shadow is slowly formed,
They spoke out their warning of the gathering storm.

SUMNER
I look down on you tonight
Your streets and shops and cars
All marked with their own
Particular light and your beach
humming that lonesome tune,
a restless tugging at the shore
that floats just outside my reach.

NO TURNING BACK
It's a long road heading south,
sometimes it's just a narrow path
and other times it's a broad
highway; but I’m bound to
travel it, every step of the way.

MAKING NOTES
Let’s watch the sun go down
behind the tall trees and the mountain
at the end of its endless trek across
the white-board sky, across the daily
chores of the lives we live down here.

LAST FAREWELL
Tom Waits is singing
‘take one last look’
and I am doing just that
as they lower him down
into the deep, cold ground,
another friend of mine
lost in the twinkling of an eye,
lost in the corridors of time.

UNDER THE WHITE CLOUD
Children of the land
and people of the treaty,
sitting side by side
like the lion and the lamb,
what is our future here
under the white cloud?

TO OUR LEADERS
We, the children of the land
and the people of this earth,
need to know that the ink
in your fountain pens
is not a poisoned ink
signing the demise
of our well-being.

A NEW GARMENT
There are stories
to tell here, three
or four or ten
and each story, as it is told,
unravels the threads
of all that we once knew
and weaves another garment
without seams,
worth so much more
than the time it took
to throw the dice on that hill.

TRUTH & TWISTED HISTORY
The strength of that voice
shall unlock the shackles of time
and unravel the twisted history of fear
and the stories all shall be free to speak
of what they know; and truth shall become
a lie and those lies, once scarcely breathed,
shall be washed clean.

OUR STORY
The clash of our stories peals like
thunder and puts a crack through
our hearts and makes a weapon out
of truth and lie and fear so that it is so
very hard to listen and harder still to hear.

TO A CHILD GROWING
Oh suffer you child to find
the arms that will ever
hold you, to drink of the
wisdom that will shape
your heart and to find
the seeds of peace that
once planted, will bear
fruit promised of the garden.

TO A BABY BORN
Slow rises the eastern sun
on the edge of morning,
catches the small droplet
of diamond suspended on
autumns naked limb and
stretches out a long shadow
of warmth and fire that
burns along the way.

THE FACE OF UNCERTAINTY
In the black shadow of the hill
a young woman stands holding
tight her neglected and uncertain
heart, gives her deepest dreams
to some twisted history that sells
so dearly the carefree gifts of
chance and trust, still waters
and meandering streams.

HEARTBREAK
There is blood dripping
from the door posts and
the lintel of my heart;
the angel passes over,
leaves me watching for
that line of breaking light
that will drive away the dark.

HOMELESS
It’s cold here in the doorway,
there is no shelter to be found,
the stone step is no pillow
and the cheap wine has little to say
as he swallows it all the way down.

FOR WINTER
Woollen jerseys, scarves
and knitted hats, winter
is dressed for the long
low days of grey and
cold distance.

FRAMED
This love, framed in a frown,
is caught of the wrong side
of the back streets of this town.

How far has she gone,
there’s an echo in the alleyway,
a faint refrain of a distant song.

WHISKY LOVE
The last drop drained,
the fire burns all the way down,
the moon is at a great distance,
come close my love, or I drown.

DYLAN
Come sing this song of 80 years
oh ye hearts that have been sustained
by every word and each refrain
that captured every ray of sun
and every drop of falling rain.

A GREAT DISTANCE
I am drinking smooth whisky
beneath the cold, round moon,
my love is in an upstairs room,
I will go to her sometime soon.

THIS NEW HEART
Slow rises the eastern sun
On the edge of morning
Catches the small droplet
Of diamond suspended
On autumn's naked limb
And stretches out a long
Shadow of warmth and
Fire that ignites this heart.

LIGHTS GONE OUT
It’s a not even a black tunnel,
just a thick, murky-grey blanket
that sits heavy, crushing each beat
of my heart in a suffocating hold
that lets through just enough air
to keep me struggling for more.

CURRENT MY GUIDE
It's a rough ocean
this sea of memories
this rocky reef of heartache;
but he’s drifting
all the time closer to the
haven of the shore.

TREASURED MEMORIES
Into the suitcase, every memory
they ever made; he snips the lock
and pushes it under the bed,
sleeps fitfully on that solid
chest of packed treasure.

NEW SONGS
There are new songs being sung
by voices I do not know,
I hear them calling to be heard
and I’m listening to each one,
listening for my own name.

WEDDING PORTRAIT VII
The truth of all that is right and good
in this captured portrait is contained;
it speaks so softly as it should,,
fades to sepia in the frame.

WEDDING PORTRAIT VI
Hers, the first dream ever born
and his, the last hope standing;
all is quiet as that first morn
after the night of dreaming.

WEDDING PORTRAIT V
His is the jacket of another age,
the home-gown is of her hand;
wisdom is a welcome sage,
ocean erodes both rock and sand

WEDDING PORTRAIT IV
In their open eyes is time held
and ageless youth is stalled,
in some far corner it is felled,
outside a shelter built with walls.

WEDDING PORTRAIT III
And in this timeless frame
all ill-thought by that lens
is buried without blame,
is by some garment hemmed.

WEDDING PORTRAIT II
He is a young man where the
old man stands, looking to find
the truth of the lens and the
depth of the shadow it mines.

LOVE & THE LAW
Oh mountain, when will you
break open your heart and
send that forgotten law
cascading down your side,
down you rugged veins of
rock and deep valley terrain.

STONE TEMPLES
Oh the temples of men
with their policies of stone
and their gods of fatigue
and the greed for their own;
they shall be brought low
to the dust of the earth
their stones shall be broken,
shattered, without worth.

ROAD
Nothing is easy and nothing is
undone that has already been done,
we can clean the chalk off the board
but the words have been written
and what we have been through
cannot be reversed, for this is the
road that we have been given.

KNOWLEDGE
Rice-paper pages turned by the breeze
awaken a moment and catch the eye,
they create a desire to search out the truth
that never may dim and never may die.

THIS AUTUMN
Oh autumn, my season, you wear
your love in gowns of red and gold
and yellow as you sweep across the
green meadow-dance floor in a rush
of falling leaves.

HIS HEART
He only ever wanted
a heart that was whole,
maybe a little crack here
and there, that’s to be
expected, but nothing
as shattering as this.

WEDDING PORTRAIT
She is seated as they were of old,
there is none as beautiful as she;
the camera’s gaze she surely holds
and time knows just to let her be.

A SHARED SADNESS
He would give him all the
answers if there were any
answers to be given;
he would light a candle on his
birthday, catch the tears
silver in their eyes.

ONLY WHAT IS SEEN
He would count with him all the
stars in the heavens but only
those they could see;
he would listen to his questions
and hold them each one
in his open heart.

FATHER & SON
He would carry him of course,
across the line and he would
carry him beyond;
he would stand with him in the
violent storm and he would
not let him fall.

THE WOODSHED
The woodshed is stacked to overflowing;
let the blue, autumn sky turn to grey
and the morning fields wear coats of white,
let the rain cloak the valley in cold mist and
let the smoke drift lazily from my chimney.

ON ACCEPTING OF HIS DEATH
One is contented with this order
of things, but for the empty chair
pulled up to the flame that dances
like a lone candle in the iron grate.

COUNTING THE YEARS
All things as they ought to be,
as the seasons take their turn
in the replenishing of the earth,
as they mark the passing of time.

AT FIRESIDE
Another winter is upon us,
the wood is stacked in the shed
the chimney cleaned, ready
for the warmth of the fire;

BY SUICIDE
In those black moments
that drag by too slowly,
the light is lost
and hope is bound
and what is heard
is just that staggered,
rasping sound.

BY SUICIDE
In those black moments
that drag by too slowly,
the light is lost
and hope is bound
and what is heard
is just that staggered,
rasping sound.

OH YE OCEANS
Beneath her gaze
the surface of the sea
shivers in a rippled
tapestry;
for what is known
in her prophet’s eye
is known in the dark
ocean deep.

A TIMELESS SEASON
There is a mist across the moon
and the chill of the recent rain
cuts right to the bone; but here,
inside the inn, the warmth of
sweet and lasting friendship
cocoons us from the harsh
realities of winter’s
cold approach.

WHAT IS KNOWN
‘I speak only what I have
learned from my father,
he said, there is no church
to leave, for what you know
you carry with you, no matter
how far you wander across
the fields from home.

AFTER THOMAS
In the fields, the flowers
have their own song
and wise teachers learn
to channel the tune; heart to
heart, the sons and daughters
prepare their own room, begin
to feel their own wounds.

TO THE GARDEN
We are all inclined
to leave the church
of our fathers she said;
the daughters and sons
can be found now
wandering the open fields,
for this, it is said, is the
natural order of things.

FOREST HARVEST
The tress in my forest
fall one at a time,
wrenched from the earth
with each passing storm,
with each harsh calling
of their name.

43
At 43 years of age
he counted himself
fortunate for the gifts
bestowed upon him;
for the way he had forged
so those other years
may follow.

THE OLD BIBLE
It is tattered and torn now,
its old blue cover hanging by a thread,
its pages bent and folded and out of order;
everything about it looks like a field
dug over in pursuit of a hidden treasure.

THE COURTHOUSE CAFE
The light from the café
on the starlit-corner of
this crazy little town,
is flickering in the
wind driving through
these days of departure
and change.

THE FLAME
These days he has rekindled
the flame that once burned
in me so bright and clear.
This flame of great desire,
awakened from its slumber,
I pray will never burn too low.

POET, SINGER, HEART
Without the word
Nothing can be spoken
Without the song
Nothing can be sung
Without a heart
Everything comes apart

MOTHERS GIFT
To this world was I gifted
by my mother’s lasting love
and as I make my own way
across the ocean to the shore
sometimes I hear her whisper,
hear her footsteps on the floor.