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driving into sunset

road -- taken its toll
and been kind

on my face light
has shone --
dark places seen
where no light shines

shriven wound's woe
joy and love received --
alike

driving into sunset
affords time to question
was something missed?
fanciful thought -- that

manifold pernicious
chattels --
wished different
road changes -- but little

while
fear reigns --

in little pockets
love waits
lives on

time passes
into sunset.

blind optimism

There’s something to this going blind.
Although one doesn’t see so right
light plays a trick and gives a gift
(presumably to compensate for our poor failing sight)
we discover when we gaze at the heavens
and things which illuminate the night.

Such as eyes of a flying jet plane.
When one is compromised in sight
those lights are amazingly bright
they send out rays like a Christmas star
flying through the heights.

SKORVE IS MY ANCHOR

"SKORVE IS MY ANCHOR"
Margaret Ann Waddicor 17th October 2010.

Skorve is my anchor 
where my house caught in the web 
of chequered fields, 
resides.

Its hulk a shoulder to lean on
when feeling grey, 
its ever changing seasons painted,
from the summit to the dale,
the thousand little streams 
that make their misty veils
after the heavy rains;
where rainbows play across the deep,
and forests weep their tears, 
through winters many storms.

being born (a poem for the obdurate)

being born (a poem for the obdurate)

kill what you don't understand
annihilate what you cannot control
deplete your resources
murder even the water,
trees, and rocks
you would kill the stars if you could
but reach them
you act like your heart was torn out
as a child

now you cannot steal enough
kill enough --
or cause enough pain
to fill the void where your
heart once was

lay down your arms for the rest
of us
and forego your vengeance for
being born.

I Learned This Day..(That I Need U More Each Day)

it’s been roasting inside my flat,
so i took a stand-by in the roof top…
as i stand there to catch the night breeze
realized that something to me was missing…

it’s been a puzzle for couples of weeks
i see it’s newborn yet seems so fixed,
this can’t be love…it just need some space,
but i’m totally guilty of the sweetest case

she’s in my dreams whenever i go to sleep
maybe destiny is really making a powertrip,
but from this calling who could ever escape?
better grab some potato chips and my lemon drink..

Rejuvination

.

lilac petals drop daintily

a swoosh of night air and fragrance
pushes the poplars to samba
swishing and swaying seductively
bouncing droplets of rain on
xylophonic roof tiles
beckoning me to join
this unnamed celebration

I escape my lazy chair ways on
loosey-goose legs
(usually stiff as boardroom banter)
and I feel

....TALL!

I Promise

I promise you the morning I shall give
Even if I have to make all my days dark
You light candle after candle
And all the nights are there in series
Let me tell you there is no bliss
You balance your bliss with parvenu’s wealth
This forms the manacles on my wrists and ankles
And in your palace I feel habeas corpus
Your doubloons burn my heart - I cry
The fearless being even with vulnerable future
Says the slogan the masters had never thought of
I sleep like a poppy with my head down

The Morrigan

I met her once,
in a battered place
where Irish bombs blew
holes into an English city,
broken bodies writhing
as I looked down at the splinters
of a shattered friend
stuck deep into my shins.

That Christmas

We kids were all prompt to arrive at the door
for we knew we shouldn’t turn our backs on
Christmas roast at dinner time -
it can’t be left long after out of the oven
for the Aussie bush blowie is nasty
and even with windows and doors fly-wired
doubled over and nailed every inch
the buggers still get inside
and if they get to your dinner before you
well, the sight would make a saint cry
wriggly maggots dropped to feast
on what was going to be our festive meat.
Too much information do I hear you implore??

Killer's Kiss

Steaming jungle darkly wrapped
closing in, keeps him trapped
Sounds of life, and of death
he holds his screaming, nervous breath

Life crawls by, touching him
he holds his bowels, filled to brim
Eyes strain to see through blinding gloom
Trying to guess; where comes his doom

Blacker blackness slides closer still
waiting for the chance to kill
Senses tuned to ultimate
this is as good as it gets

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