I can't end the year this way,
the title of this piece won't sway,
It is not an anchor to hold the stay,

but wait and listen to the choir singing
as they practice in the church hall down
the road, with too many cars, so listen...closely
and you may hear the high notes on
a night clear like this, just like this,

the information that swirls on and on,
about people, places and events,
homeless people kicked out of the park and tents,
political figures mishapen by absolute power,
absolute greed,
absolution to them a quick rinse in a shower,

more information feed my gluttonous mind,
I absorb none of it as there is newnews to find,
there is a woman out there
who has a reputation for causes,
wicked witch in the East beyond Oz,

gut check as some said
world paused to remember well,
so much left to do there as well,

Oh Africa!

The world's greed for your resources,
makes nasty fodder for the choices,
as to who is in charge this week.

So much pain, it is plain to see I can't write about it all, it would take an eternity.
A loss this year like no other, but a life to celebrate, who will Madiba motivate?

Natural disaster, filled with remorse after the eye of and storm has passed,
loved ones looking their loved ones lost, some evil gang backfills, a brand
of poison into the the void, the pain the anguish, in lives,
to steal the aid and make it their prize, to be aportioned at their will and price.

And George is back in the news...sad, so many things this year that make me
want to ball up my fists and punch the air, walk down the streets until I begin
to shout and let it out, harm no more, harm no more, anniversaries of bullets,

and little ones who touched, so many with who they were, I wonder who they would
                                            
                                                                ­     have been,    

I am not being flip and this is not Christianese, but God knows as the spirits they are
                                                             ­                  and He is.

There is no one poet
who can say it all,
there is no one place
that tears did not fall,
this may be a wrap up,
I have left so much out
and it falls so short,
maybe the ink I spill
is wrongly placed.

Tomorrow night at midnight, let's just embrace REFRESH!
not forgetting
lessons learned
poetic stripes
maybe earned
by writing or typing or wiping away tears
I could go one, but that is one of my fears,
...losing you.



©DWE122013

We smile at each other
and I lean back against the wicker couch.
How does it feel to be dead? I say.
You touch my knees with your blue fingers.
And when you open your mouth,
a ball of yellow light falls to the floor
and burns a hole through it.
Don't tell me, I say. I don't want to hear.
Did you ever, you start,
wear a certain kind of dress
and just by accident,
so inconsequential you barely notice it,
your fingers graze that dress
and you hear the sound of a knife cutting paper,
you see it too
and you realize how that image
is simply the extension of another image,
that your own life
is a chain of words
that one day will snap.
Words, you say, young girls in a circle, holding hands,
and beginning to rise heavenward
in their confirmation dresses,
like white helium balloons,
the wreathes of flowers on their heads spinning,
and above all that,
that's where I'm floating,
and that's what it's like
only ten times clearer,
ten times more horrible.
Could anyone alive survive it?

Heavy hammers are pounding my courtyard
Have to reach thousand liters deep
Each blow is hitting my mind hard
Demolishing what I thought forever’s keep!

What was built up over years of toil
Now dug out as mossy broken dumps
Lie debauched the dragged out soil
As the dark hole to the gaping depth slumps!

I look down it with a sense of hurt
And down the years I ride
Sniffing to catch smell of a lost part
The times that in this cavern hide!

How I looked as these were built
How youthful she surely was then
Fossil moments embedded in the silt
If only I had them regained!

The peephole into past is now bare
Paving the time traveler one chance
To swim with the memory and be there
Give the living remnants last glance!

Lost years are never dead I believe
They all live what we think we demolish
It’s only us that are forced to leave
Leaving them breathing in buried bliss!

The beach, it circles round to the Cape
As a frame to a Prussian blue seascape,
While cliffs arch up to a vaulting sky
To claw at the clouds just passing by;
     But nobody heeds them now, nor I.

The sea, it grumbles or lies sublime
Content in its deeps, or marking time,
Then storms its breakers onto the beach
In search of the mountains, out of reach;
     With nothing to learn, and none to teach.

The sky, it hovers and looking down
Hangs over the earth, both green and brown
Where nature, in its fecundity
Runs wild and free from the sky and sea;
     And unattended by God, or me.

While cottages lie like a pile of bones
Or an ancient monster’s stepping stones,
And none of them cared where man came from
Nor where he went while the sun still shone;
     Once they were here, but now they’re gone!

David Lewis Paget

A smile and a wink, create an incredible magic, one gets floored
that's her, but not a day passes without a complaint-
about her uncomplaining nature, that seems to rub everyone
in a way wrong; without any prompt,  interpretations start to pour
she definitely lacks seriousness, frivolous or an unfeeling brute?

By nature, she can't care about anything, may be the effect of the past,
tongues waged, observers increased, each one took notes,
voluntarily held conferences, and reached a conclusion, behind her back:
"Far too removed from reality, lives in cloud cuckoo land"

Strong judgments came one after the other, every one enthusiastically joined,
in demolishing, what they thought 'The myth of equanimous mind'
(irrespective of dealing with a string of troubles and continuing bad weather)
The one, only one, who kept silence, when this buzz was going on far too long,
just smiled at the end, the playful wink that followed ruffled all feathers,
now the gang has an added burden, the power of one more to deal with.