Poetry

Index

Drawn to Play


Dig and search,
Or bubble and burst.
Freeze and sleep,
Or thaw and weep,
With any luck we have the choice,
To do whichever one comes first.

Either way, it’s neither here nor there.
The greater challenge is to be aware.
To move from state, to state, to state.
Maybe a little early, probably a little late.
But also, somehow…
At exactly the right time,
And on the perfect date.

While we still have any choices,
We can speak truly with our voices.
For ourselves and for others,
For our elders, our children,
Our 'sisters' and our 'brothers'.
Maybe we’ll grow, and twist, and fly,
Join in the dance, and reach for the sky.

While we still have even one choice,
Before we leave again someday,
It’s all still to play for…
To strive for, to live for, to love for.

So let’s choose to play!

— May 2026

Heal


The healing process begins at the start;
From the moment a wound is inflicted,
Whether or not we choose to take part;
The part that we play isn’t scripted.
We can join the process, through awareness, insight, interaction and art;
And if we choose to ignore, the wound may hurt more, as the lessons within are uplifted.

Though the brain is intelligent, the body is smart,
And a cure isn’t guaranteed before we depart.
But in the process we can learn a great deal,
By taking it slow, and keeping it real…

By befriending our mind, listening to our body, and feeling our heart.

— July 2025

HeartH


As our minutes and the minute hours rotate,
On this earth and in our minds,
Sometimes we’re early and sometimes we’re late.
A curious interaction of circles and lines…
And countless other things of even equally curious shapes!
May our doings be aligned with our beings,
And the earth aligned with our hearts…
Someones at a quarter to,
And sometimes at a quarter past!

— January 2024

Petty Crhyme

Poetic thieves, escape like birds;
What’s their secret?
They’ve got away with words.

— July 2020

ProgLIFEress

[On travelling overseas for an extended period]

Friends scattered,
Relatives spread;
Brain shattered,
Molten lead…

Wait…

Okay then,
Start again:

Friends found,
Family hold;
Mind around,
Solid gold.

Fully unprepared,
Always ready;
Slightly scared,
Moving already.

Over oceans,
Mixed emotions;
Stories ending,
Heart rending…

Wait…

Stories growing,
Heart glowing;
Mistakes aplenty,
Maybe twenty…

Wait…

Definitely more –
forty .four;
Regrets few,
Can’t undo;
Not rotten,
Quickly forgotten;
Complaints none,
Still not done…

Poetry plays,
Seemingly exaggerated;
Some days,
Probably understated.

Travel unemployed,
Shoes destroyed…

Wait…

Shoes employed,
All weather,
Movement enjoyed,
Play together.

Light shoes,
Like feathers,
Less wait,
No tethers.

Experiences blending,
Mind bending;
New connections –
Simply reflections;
Stronger connections –
Common imperfections;
Unmistakeable clarity –
Recognising similarity.

Connections made,
All enriching;
Connections fade,
Fabric unstitching…

Wait…

Connections stretch,
Never tearing;
Weaving webs,
Global bearing.

[Webs and stretch –
Broken rhyming;
Early sketch,
And here’s an inappropriate example of dodgy timing!]

Worlds collide,
New perspectives;
Crazy ride,
Crash detectives.

Luck dropping,
Mental fits,
Heart stopping,
Ohne Witz!

Dancing waves,
Dive below;
Mobility saves,
Lo apprezzo.

Many sights,
Living free;
Shining lights,
Bonne nuit.

Hyvää yötä…
Challenge accepted!
Mover, desserter…
Rhymes unfinnished! 😀

Musical augmentation,
Chemical-free implementation;
So affecting,
Mood directing;
Melodies then,
Played again,
Memory kick,
Schöner Blick.

Destination unknown,
Together alone;
Mind trick,
Travel sick;
When in roam,
No home…

Wait…

Ja, Sì, Joo, Oui, Yes…

Homes.

— April 2017

‘Our Song’

In the month of December,
I try to remember,
To play an important game:

When stumbling on tunes,
Most broadcast too soon,
[And also too... at all!]
I hide from the glances of dames;

‘Cause if there’s attraction,
And subsequent action,
The following I do proclaim:

‘T’would be totally wrong,
If a jingle became ‘Our song’,
A terrible, horrible shame!

And if it should happen,
A jingle *you* be rappin’,
This judgment I pass on your fame...

The same: It’s lame,
FOR SHAME!!!

— December 2019

Find a Tune

[On the magic of music]

Find a tune,
Played for you;
Jump the moon, there is no spoon;
Choose a window…
And step through.

— June 2017

Secrets In Form

Once, I saw two incredible dancers,
Perform an incredible dance;
After which, one provided an answer,
To my spellbound onlookers trance:

‘To perform is to share,
To give of oneself,
To sacrifice something you hold.’

The onlookers present,
May receive your gift,
And grow from the story you told.

Indeed then I grew,
And now on to you,
I disclose this secret, this gold:

Let go of your truths, when they’re fully-grown;
They’re worth much more to others, than to you alone.

— January 2020

This Moment

There are times to work, to concentrate;
Times to reckon, to calculate;
Times to struggle, and complicate;
Times for concerns, to mediate;
Times to strive, to initiate;
Times to yield, and imitate;

But right now, is not one of those times;
This special moment, is for freedom… and rhymes.

— December 2019

To Know the Difference

[On moving overseas… Or attempting to anyway!]

Tickets and flags, toys and games;
Stickers and bags, artwork in frames.

Things I collected, items for sport;
Seldom rejected – The last resort.

Cultivated in nooks, ‘stuff’ lingers, ‘stuff’ grows;
Curated scrapbooks: Little fingers, little toes.

Educational kits and playing cards;
Random magical tricks and ankle guards.

Pieces and bits, of all shapes and sizes;
Used paper clips and academic prizes.

Compulsively stored, all this documentation;
So long ignored, avoiding consideration.

Things might last forever, if they’re protected;
But is it so clever, if they’re rarely inspected?

What is the value, and what is the price,
Of committing your past, to the protection of mice?

To hold on is easy, to let go is hard;
Set sail on the free sea, ‘gear-up’ to discard.

Figurines with a past, balloons with no air;
In time they can’t last, and yet still… I care.

What should I waste, and what should I keep?
Here’s just a taste: Whatever is to become of poor little Shaun, the sheep?

It’s mental gymnastics, this effort of will:
To play ‘pick-up sticks’, to take the ‘red pill’;
But if I ignore it, it’s at my peril;
Let the march of time, reveal good or ill.

Old friends rediscovered, how could we have known;
Like love at last sight, bonds have strengthened and grown;
Curious and ironic, this vital all-in play:
Without the drive to go, there’d be less reason to stay!

An unconscious commitment, undoubtedly clear;
Leave that which is secure, leave that which is dear;
Not leaving the path – the path is behind, see?
It’s taking new turns, on which I can find… me.

Finally deliberation, must draw to a close;
To jump in the river, and see where it flows;
A day must be seized, to act, not intend…

It’s now in the past. My choice was real, in the end.

— December 2019

The Canon of Perseverance

If you've missed the boat, it's not the end;
Reload the cannon and fire again.
If the result is the same,
Take a more careful aim.
If you miss once more and it sails out of reach,
Increase the charge, widen the bore and strengthen the breech.
The meaning of this:
Continue to strive, keep trying,
Persist in toiling,
As long as you're alive, even while dying,
Despite the cannon's recoiling.
And at the last, when the ship has sailed,
Unimpeded with its full crew of sailors,
At least the passengers will be glad that you failed,
And of your failures.

— December 2010