(no subject)

deep pink the fluffy clouds infused with blood
we've entered for a while another world
down below rain turns friable earth to mud

we fly through day and night with thump and thud
our bodies through the sky in cans are hurled
deep pink the fluffy clouds infused with blood

night falls the darkness comes on like a flood
bright flags that marked the day are now being furled
down below rain turns friable earth to mud

we've seen through time the bomb is just a dud
into far pasts we have not yet been whirled
deep pink the fluffy clouds infused with blood

what have we learned the cows still chew their cud
the wartime pipes have one more time been skirled
down below rain turns friable earth to mud

once was gold that gleamed now it's only crud
the lake that shone has down a plughole swirled
deep pink the fluffy clouds infused with blood
down below rain turns friable earth to mud

(no subject)

the light catches us but we are not yet aware
of what it is we need or where we want to go
the day is bright the images are spare
we seem to feel yet do not seem to know
what we are meant to do on this bright day
the acts that make us more than what we are
knowledge that leads us finally to the way
following the newest brightest distant star
further than this our arms will never reach
we learn to speak and then we read our words
just beyond our vision lies the longest beach
and on the sand there walk the wading birds
the things we've done and those we're left to do
fade as we look out on the loud active blue

sunday afternoon

i ought to work but my head hurts too much
i've got to call my son and hear his tale
i've this and that to do and so and such
enough to do that my mind seems to quail
i look at the map the names that speak of place
lines marking the bounds of country and of state
my mind cannot make the leap across the space
where image and reality come to mate
the numbers have a meaning but right now
i can't quite make the sense and image jell
i seem to see a goat tick birds and a thin cow
fires raising smoke large cars a stinking well
i've never been there never heard them cry
yet in my thoughts i know i do not lie

(no subject)

November comes, the leaves colour and fall,
it's time for me to travel and to speak
of politics past and future, what we call
the vision of a world that's not so bleak.
The poems that I write come from within,
words of my heart but coming from my head,
i seek to hold things down, seek now to pin
some images in place, though still I dread
what I will find when I have searched inside
my head and heart; whether I can walk
a path that's just between my fear and pride,
or if the verse I write is just more talk.
Beyond this, I want you who come to read
to take your time, to savour not to speed.

hopeful journey

though dark is seemly
november sunset too soon
ends pleasant daylight

travel broadens when
you go to learn not just teach
but is so painful

yesterday the sea
the sun on the loud breakers
today much cooler

the writer tells lies
pleasant honest ones yet not
fully convincing

magical moments
you sleeping in my long arms
loving in comfort

the fleeting nature
of happiness gives it a
masterful power

in the small aircraft
we hold hands smiling glad that
we are together