A small collection.
For me poetry is the art of saying a lot with just a few words. Where one line can be a story in itself. An example is “Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy” A lyric by the now deceased singer songwriter John Denver. If you just think about that line you can feel it, even make a story from it. Yes song lyrics are a form of poetry. People write in different styles and you can break grammatical rules but for me it is an abstract art where you allow the reader to think between the lines. Much the same as abstract art does.
Wisdom Senses
How long is a day in the darkness?
When compared with a lifetime of light
Why want for the love of another
If at first you cannot love yourself
What good is the sound of music?
If you cannot hear it in your heart
Why want for the aroma of peace
If its taste is too bitter, to digest
Why long for the sight of a mountain
If you are not prepared for the climb
Why try to touch the impossible
If your thoughts are negatively inclined
Anniversary
Hands across the table
Touching fingers reveal
Lingering sensitivity to
Memories distant others fresh of the moment
Cherished thoughts of her feminine graces
A love those forty-three years embraces
Effervescent pink the champagne bubbles
With tinted illusions
Dinner waits
She glistens with age well carried
He listens with aged wisdom
Both drink in the possibilities
Seasons
Droplets of melting snow give
Substance to the awakening spring
Corrugated roof sings of the season
Clouds frown with tempting threats
Coloured leaves fall gratis
Hues of orange brown and gold
Autumn displays itself in gay abundance
Forming pictures framed in lattice
Dreary heat of summers dry
Shimmer’s on horizons distant
Thirsty blond fields want for moisture
Foliage weeps as if to die
Rain sets itself in winter cold
Frost on field happens
Rivers flood where water goes
Rendezvousing with other places being bold
The Fragrance of Life
When finally I saw the light
I found that all the things
I thought I needed
I did not need at all
That the joy and beauty of life
Was to be found most often in a quiet garden
Reclining in a chair with a book
Surrounded by the fragrance
And sounds of life itself
The Thinker
Doubt be not our fear
Truth be our desire
Critics don’t condone us
Our contradictory thought
Doubt makes us wise
To question not a sin
Doubt be our journey
Enlightenment within
Questions be inspired
Answers revelation
Integrity walk beside us
Truth will always win
Reason be our companion
Doubt our inner voice
Truth be the search
That doubt alone can bring
The Women In The Room
You are not just anyone
You are the must in the room of many
You are the one thought in many minds
And the light in many eyes
You are the blessing in others souls
You are the silence that dares to speak
You are the mystery of femininity
And the melter that the masculine dread
You are the serenity that invades the heart
You are the conqueror of inner fears
You are the tide that brings the tears
And the women of many nights
You are the mother of the child
You are the husbands strength
You are the underestimated gift
And the women I so much need
I Wonder When the Seed Is Planted
I look upon the child’s face and see
Innocence – unblemished purity
Translated in looks virtuous
How sweet how incorruptible
Then it happens with measured subtly
The distortion of youthful thought
Insinuated into free
And immature minds
I wonder when the seed is planted
When evil first takes hold
And intolerance evolves
To become scum on the pond of life
Who grants permission to damage the child?
Of its pristine purity
The wonderment of adventure
And unfiltered creativity
Is it the sin of the father?
That makes a child loathe
That makes them xenophobic
Racist just like him
When does it take root this hatred?
That enters the child’s mind
To be carried with them always
Fermenting as they grow
Are parents so imbued?
With experiences of the past
That forgiveness is impossible
Bad memories seem to last
So they pass it onto their children
And intolerance lingers on
Licking on the finger of hate
It seems to have no end
I can only ask that compassion
Might replace their putrid sin
And the cry that is inside each heart
Will – let understanding in
The Art of Quiet
Be very still… listen
Very still
Sit relaxed
And In the stillness you grow
The mind
Insightful thoughts
From silence
Answers arrive
Responses happen
When stillness prevails
Over who you are
Very still
You hear
The voice of calming reason
In the serenity of silence
Silence being
The art of quiet
Be still Be you
Be true to who you are
Meditate
Learn to love
The real you
Feel how still you are
Untroubled
Be still
Yet not alone
Others care
I care
Tomorrow
When you have exhausted this day
When you have extracted from it
Its endless potential
Everything it has to offer
Its provisions
Its answers
Let tomorrow come
Have faith
In the rising of the new day sun
Not for the love of nature
But the nature of love
Let tomorrow come
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Categories: Literature
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John, I love to write poetry. You give me something higher to aim for. Sadly, I could never reach the same heights.
Yes as Michael says. I’d be most grateful if you did.
Don’t put yourself down Michael. We all have things to say and we say it in different ways. It is all important in its own way. But as I so abuntly found this week. You cannot reason with unreasonable people. I would like to read yours as well.
I don’t write much these days, John. I used to suffer from depression about twenty years ago and that’s when I wrote my best works.
Yes it’s a good time to write. I am feeling somewhat depressed after my experiences of this week. I started a short story about a priest and a boy about a year ago but I didn’t have enough pent up anger in me. I have it now.
These political times can create much anger, John.
Anger can be a good thing if used correctly but the people I met during this week behaved like feral animals. The pages of Facebook gives them a place to hide their true identity and they wallow in the slime of their nefarious commentary. If the Ashby thing goes the way I think it will I will have one last go at reason but I fear that one cannot reason with degenerative intellectual minds.
John, I saw the anger you are probably referring to, which was alluded to in my post the other day. Seriously, some of these people need to chill out. Dare I say it, but perhaps they need to read some relaxing poetry.
Having said that, those type of aggressors would turn your poems into a political football.
John, I feel that things are not as bad out in the real world, that many would like us to think.
PM looks confident. Cannot say the same for Abbott.
Maybe private polling is telling a different story.
We have a new tax, demanded by the public. Does that fit in with the perception of anti taxes that Abbottt and MSM portray.
Yes, the PM proudly said she cahnged her mind , as it was the right thing to do. No backlash there either.
I do not believe, or any of us would be attacked, if we were not getting through. Yes, that attack should be taken as a compliment, not lead to depression.
I, one who thought was up to date on sexual abuse of children, was aghast at what I have heard this week. Why what has been revealed, is not across all the headlines, is beyond me.
Having my daughter sexually abused for years within the family, being too aware of one Salesian father that went to jail, and worked in the field for years, I was shocked.
I am also a lapsed Catholic.
Keep up the good work. You brighten my days.
Thanks Michael. Agree with all you say. Similar experiences with the Catholic Church.
thanks for the lovely poems. These online forums are sustaining me and give me hope re the future political issues
John, A fine collection of deeply emotional and evocative verses, painting a rich landscape of insight and emotional imagery.
Thanks for sharing 😎
Cheers 🙂
Couldn’t have written that better myself. LOL.
John, 😀
Cheers 😀
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