We stood
on the driveway today
at dawn
Candles in hand,
as the boy  down the road
played The Last Post,
imperfectly but with
such a beautiful heart

We stood
on the driveway today
With rosemary
for remembrance
and red poppies too
Pinned to our chest.
as birds flew over head

We stood and  remembered
the sacrifice and courage
We stood and remembered
those who did not return
those who did but left
brothers and mates behind
Those who fell,
those who returned injured
In body or mind.

The dawns gentle light
watching over us all
as we looked to
the left and the right
to see neighbors all
Standing  in their driveways
Gifting our diggers
the respect they are due
for the service they gave
to the countries they love

We stood and gave thanks
as the last trumpet note died
and the kookaburras  called
Australia the nation stood tall

Bring out your words today
Bring them out with gentle care
So that they may do good
in a world awash in despair

Bring them out,
not in whispering assassination,
or with  edges sharp
and cutting designed
to harm, maim and torment

Do not bring words
that ring with anger
like a brass bell
broken and clanging

Nor should you charge
your words with
vindicate electrics,
primed to shock and burn.

Do not fling arrows
with aim to pierce and scar

This is not the time
for that...
Know as much as you desire it
There may not ever be
the time for that...
as much as you wish
to whip the heart of the other
this is not the time
and besides,
this they do well
enough themselves

Be the better,
salve their soul,
beaten, broken
and decrepit
almost beyond repair
be the sunlight
amongst  the gloom
Be the kindness
In an unhappy house
an anguished room
Be the guiding star
In someones darkest night
Be gentle be the light
It may cost you
the righteous anger
seeded deep in your soul
but then again
it may  just make
both you and the recipient
a little more whole,
a little more right,
a little bit more able
to fight the good fight

So bring out your words today
bring them out with flair
bring them out and show
us you care.....

Flower sticks dried out
Stand sentenal to
a life ruled by busy laziness

Once vibrant petals
Hang with tenacious
grace, determined in death
to remain relevant,
Notes of a happier time

There epitaph ..
need to do something
with those flowers
echoes in my mind as
i again brush pass them on
my way out the door

Plenty of time to write,
now as the doors stay closed
at the knowledge factory
and we wave goodbye
to  common sense.
Plenty of time to write,
as we keep our youngers
home and teach them
distance education
the art of befriending
from a socially
acceptable distance.
Plenty if time to write,
small shopping lists,
so one can dart
in and out of local shops
Plenty of time on our hands
as we realize that our house
may not be as large as we thought
Plenty of time to think
the thoughts we probably
should not think..but do
Plenty of information shared
but how much of social pages
armchair experting is truth .
Most importantly plenty of love
and hope and joy to be found
hidden amongst the angst.
Plenty of time to write
of this, to spread the love
and not the fear..
Plenty of time..

the state of the human heart

both, astoundingly abstract
and sumptuously surreal

born of colours kaleidescoped
by fractured fractaled emotions

painted with either abandon
or cramped contractions

framed by circumstance
guided by thought,
or thoughtlessness

hung by guilt,hope arrogance

viewed through binoculars,
keyholes, rose tinted spectacles
seen in clouds and reflections

reviewed with misunderstanding

sold for praise and cheers

gifted to uninterested or uninteresting

left to gather dust....

held tightly, torturously so
for  fear of it flying free

weighed, found wanting
yet alway needing more

when  the heart smiles
the whole body sings
when it cries,
we often look away
from it's sorrow.

we can be heartfelt
heartless, hard harted
soft of heart, heart sore
we can have a heart
overwhelmed, full of grief
overflowing with love

we need it to beat,
be strong, faithful, steady

all this: ascribed to a muscle,
inside a cage, inside a bag
working hard to keep us upright

look, at the state of it.......

puddles of sky water
lay awaiting the sun's kiss
back to cloudy homes