betterdays

betterdays Nov 2018

time kaliedescopes
yesterdays, nows and
tommorows jumble
in glittering jewels
hopes from earlier
become wistful dreams
hopes for later, mists
to be gathered in butterfly nets
dreams of now circle like
koi in a pond,
hypnotic in their gliding
silent world

we stand on the precipice
waiting for echoes to return
waiting for an updraught
of heady confidence
to give us impetous
to allow us spread
our gossamer wings
we wait for the sun
to warm us, to bring the rush
of blood to our heads
so that we may jump
and soar in the yonder
so that our feet may feel
the caress of impossibilty
and clouds can tickle our soles

we wait...

betterdays Oct 2018

tag

i still see you
sitting in the sun
holding a pale ale
up in salutation
steel grey hair
flowing
down your back
legs crossed at knee
ankle jigging
up and down
to the beat of
the music
in your head
dressed in "blacks"
with a flash of colour
this time pale lemon
in your hand
a dhurrie, self rolled,
thin and a little bent
smoking gently, the whisp
of it curling in the breeze
today your face is thoughtful
caught up in a memory that brings
the corners of mouth up
into a wry smile.
i still see you
in the periphery
of my mind
yet when i turn
you are gone..
a memory
playing tag
with my heart

betterdays Oct 2018

treasure map

there was blood
a pinprick of it
bright red viscous
glowing with health

because of the blood
there were bandaids
two big plastic strips
colored like the flesh of
a zombie hand, placed in a cross
like the x on a treasure map
straddling the knee
of the small person
with tears in her eyes
as she retold her story

there was blood
and it hurt
but then we
had ice cream

now the blood is dried
the tears too
but still the bandaids remain
x marking the spot

betterdays Oct 2018

dustbowl

words are not easy now
they turn their back an slink away
i mutter soliloquys of gibberish
hoping to entice them home
but no, they laugh and belittle me

my muse has taken to reading
other poet's work and nags
about the good old days
flouncing about and swaering

there are many theories, about
this dry spell, this soon to be drought
but really all i can do is sit
out on the back deck,
watch the dustbowl
and wait for the smell
of petrichor....

betterdays Sep 2018

lovesong

wind raucous in it's endevours tonight
circling the house in a macabre yet joyous song
and dance routine, the tree's applaud
and the small cat curls tighter in on itself

rain falls with intense passion
scrubbing the grime away
and the moon is lost in the clouds
most things tuck themselves up
and wish for a sunny day

but the old green treefrog
is singing lovesongs
and his rival too
bass profundo
at just past two
serenading the ladies
as the wind croons along

betterdays Aug 2018

slumber

my voice is
just dust upon the floor
swept into piles under the carpet

my art, the scribblings
of a child, with no sense
of line or colour
haphazard in it's beauty

my words, dry leaves
set to dance upon
the winter winds
without direction or
consequence

my mind, a small seed
awaiting the glorious spring  rains
til then,  just a shell in which
my muse baby...
slumbers

betterdays Aug 2018

been there, done that

i had forgotten
the rage and anguish
of a two year old boy
who is just too tired
and overwhelmed

i had forgotten
the frustation and angst
of the mother of a two year
whose answer to every question
in a howling NOooooo

both almost in tears
i so wanted to help
but remembered
outside influence
at this juncture
is often more
of a hinderence

but still i smiled
and leant over
and whispered
in her ear...
it does get better
and yes you are
doing a great job

sometimes it helps
to be told you are
even if it feels
like you ain't