There is a gravity to
sadness; it pulls me
downward into a
deep dark well.
I can't climb out.
It's my own private hell.
I pray for levitation.
I jump, only to fall.
I feel forgotten.

I put one foot in
front of the other,
and I will rise.
I move on.
Hope returns like
a long lost friend,
and I find my sanctuary.

1000 poems
Good place to be
1000 and that's
all to see

Best wishes
to all ,

Goodbye . . .

Old Herne aromping in the wilds
Perchance exceeds his bound
And in a garden verdant
His hoof'ed feet were found

The careful rows of hellebore
The finely tilled red earth
The bursting bulbs of amaryllis
Enjoying their rebirth

All seemed queer to Herne the Hart
With moss and ivy twined
His ancient heart and wild blue eyes
No sense in this can find

And I realise now
There's no place for this wildness of mine
In your cultivated calm

en ná die storm se kalm
en ná die wind en reën
is die sagtheid van die aarde oorverdowend

my blinde oë
en krom ou hart
lê soos sade en
vrôt in die land

tot onder sterlig een aand
dié muwwe vlies bars
en 'n fyn wit worteltjie
voel-voel die wêreld in kruip

*

and after the storm's calm
and after the wind and rain
the softness of the earth is
deafening

my blind eyes
and crooked old heart
lay like seeds and
rot in the land

'til under the starlight one night
this mouldy membrane burst
and a fine white root
tentatively creeps into the world

I fought for want of will
Lay beaten and ******
for what turned out to be nil

So I go as all mankind must do
Descending into the dark of night

I labored for want of will
But heavy now are  my steps
I have no more to instill

Let me pass beyond the gate
To the green pastures beside still waters of the lake