with a winning hand
there's an element of luck
it's the dealer's call

to-day our region
was bathed in autumn sunshine
perfect blue skies presided
as a view so divine

the countryside wore
a most fetching gleam
lustre did reflect on
the river's narrow stream

our bush landscape
exhibiting her very best
the gold and azure tones
so beautiful of request

the New England's district
gorgeous of home-yard
she surely sparkled
like a picture postcard

the human heart
is the size of
a closed fist.
it punches
in my chest,
leaving bruises
on my soul

it beats out the
everylastbit
of love i hold.
show me how
i can ever
set myself free
from the idea
that, i, too
am bitterly alone.

In the back kitchen you'll find
two boys scrubbing dishes.
One loud mouthed and lanky;
the other stout with broken English.

Amongst soap suds and grime,
clothed in long black aprons,
these two teens share a bond
stronger than mugs of ceramic.

Though the mason jars may chip
and hot dinner plates burn their fingers,
minimum wage is the thing
that keeps this quirky pair together.

And they dance around the kitchen
in those slip resistant sketchers
balancing bowls, pots, and pans.
Graceful as expert choreographers.

I'm disabled and     frozen with anger.
Like ice you've returned     to arrest my rage.

Bit bored and lonely
so I could go out and meet
Jack
in the green.
Paint colours on my face
and wave a white scarf
Jack
in between.
Could listen to music
that vibrates within my soul
Jack
you have seen.
But stay home only
not to start a parade of mine
Jack
I have been.