peter-mcphee - Hello Poetry

What if I should tire of D? Or Death should tire of me? It seems so long, Should things go wrong, To spend eternity. How long will I be with Death? Or will he stay with me? When we’ve taken mark Of the light and dark He may abandon me.

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Nov 4, 2015

Nov 4, 2015 at 5:56 AM UTC

What if I should tire of Death?

What if I should tire of D? Or Death should tire of me? It seems so long, Should things go wrong, To spend eternity. How long will I be with Death? Or will he stay with me? When we’ve taken mark Of the light and dark He may abandon me.

10

Dear Friend, Today I turned. I turned off the wake up crow of the radio announcer. I turned pale at the arrival of the day. I turned over and tried to go back to sleep. I turned green at the hopes of those half my age. I turned red with anger - or frustration - at the Seas still to cross, Mountains still to climb, Ideas still to pursue. I turned and looked at my children - and was proud. I turned back the sheets. I turned out of bed. I turned into an elephant carried three bundles of giggles out the door. I turned into the kitchen and a bundle fell off - still giggling. I turned into someone's father, but only for a moment, then we were friends again. I turned up the heat in the griller and the toast darkened and dried out more quickly. I turned for the milk and there was none left. I turned into a street I'd never travelled before. I turned off when I heard it was Joh Bjelke-Petersen's birthday. I returned. I turned into someone's friend and was still her father. I turned thirty.

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Aug 24, 2014

Aug 24, 2014 at 5:58 AM UTC

Turning

Dear Friend, Today I turned. I turned off the wake up crow of the radio announcer. I turned pale at the arrival of the day. I turned over and tried to go back to sleep. I turned green at the hopes of those half my age. I turned red with anger - or frustration - at the Seas still to cross, Mountains still to climb, Ideas still to pursue. I turned and looked at my children - and was proud. I turned back the sheets. I turned out of bed. I turned into an elephant carried three bundles of giggles out the door. I turned into the kitchen and a bundle fell off - still giggling. I turned into someone's father, but only for a moment, then we were friends again. I turned up the heat in the griller and the toast darkened and dried out more quickly. I turned for the milk and there was none left. I turned into a street I'd never travelled before. I turned off when I heard it was Joh Bjelke-Petersen's birthday. I returned. I turned into someone's friend and was still her father. I turned thirty.

23

In winter shadows he saw her She knew that he would wait for her. That night he might have let her slip away, He held and hoped love would follow. Their love was but a mystery, A sweetly woven tapestry, They gave themselves as only lovers may, She wanted their lives to follow. Like a swelling stream their love grew They found a bridge where they knew That all would fall if they just walked away Where she went he knew he’d follow One night without their knowing The river took what had been theirs But they found a way of showing Love is won By those ones who dare. Friendships were tested and broken Hard angry words were spoken They knew that through it all they’d find a way And some day others may follow.

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Nov 9, 2013

Nov 9, 2013 at 10:10 PM UTC

Overture

In winter shadows he saw her She knew that he would wait for her. That night he might have let her slip away, He held and hoped love would follow. Their love was but a mystery, A sweetly woven tapestry, They gave themselves as only lovers may, She wanted their lives to follow. Like a swelling stream their love grew They found a bridge where they knew That all would fall if they just walked away Where she went he knew he’d follow One night without their knowing The river took what had been theirs But they found a way of showing Love is won By those ones who dare. Friendships were tested and broken Hard angry words were spoken They knew that through it all they’d find a way And some day others may follow.

21

In my sleep I have dreamt That we walked together On a warmed winter beach The way we never did. In my sleep, when we talked, I heard you speak to me The way you always did And as I never could. Then you rested your head Gently on my shoulder So your hair brushed my cheek The way it never has. I woke sadly and knew I had wasted a dream.

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Oct 1, 2013

Oct 1, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC

In My Sleep

In my sleep I have dreamt That we walked together On a warmed winter beach The way we never did. In my sleep, when we talked, I heard you speak to me The way you always did And as I never could. Then you rested your head Gently on my shoulder So your hair brushed my cheek The way it never has. I woke sadly and knew I had wasted a dream.

14

There is a silence - a serenity - Even the dust that hangs - loose in the air - Is still and undisturbed. The distant sound of the mother Remains part of another world - Beyond thin, hard walls. Scene into scene - Feather-flecked memories Echoing and fusing To echo again. Warmth rises - gently - With a rich smell of earth From the pregnant swell of the ground. Fold after fold Feather-filled clouds Following the eddies To a grotto Delight rises - gently - With the delicate lifting of the eggs From the nestling swell off the ground. Motionless Emotionless At peace The child sleeps. The pillows are packed Around her.

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Sep 29, 2013

Sep 29, 2013 at 7:00 AM UTC

Eggs

There is a silence - a serenity - Even the dust that hangs - loose in the air - Is still and undisturbed. The distant sound of the mother Remains part of another world - Beyond thin, hard walls. Scene into scene - Feather-flecked memories Echoing and fusing To echo again. Warmth rises - gently - With a rich smell of earth From the pregnant swell of the ground. Fold after fold Feather-filled clouds Following the eddies To a grotto Delight rises - gently - With the delicate lifting of the eggs From the nestling swell off the ground. Motionless Emotionless At peace The child sleeps. The pillows are packed Around her.

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