We believe they
are true friends
until that day comes,
when you really need them.

Not everything needs a poem
Sometimes
it’s already

good enough.

What was the last thing I said to you before we went back to being strangers?

From the desert
Parched  words
Dry words
Longing to be quenched
Beach.words
Salty words
Sunny words
Makes you want to
Smile
Sky words
Overhead
Words too hard
To grasp
Below the sea
Bubbly words
Can't wait to repeat
On the ground
Where you walk
Made just for you

if i could
i would kiss away the pain
with poetries and prose
for all i know is write
until all the tears are out dry

but i couldnt

raised walls painted so that distanced towers stand
recognisably, cast desires public displaced
with prevented wills, spinning crosses effaced
with artificial elements exchanged, artisans' land
ideally used for first reaping, agreements planned
for disagreements, disdain and new deviances, embraced
parrots' ardent admiration is endurable, disgraced
so that facts of recognition are eternally evident, grand
appearances and objects, disinterested
vigilance and changes ever introduced to affairs
honourable, things abstracted neutrally exploring
unreal occasions of opulence, listed
and inherited, favoured for ritual houses and wares
priced, a result of lost words pouring

For many long years I have wandered
For many long years I have roamed
Now a voice in my head is calling
Calling me back to my south country home

I have wandered your tropical forests
Experienced the hot desert sun
Climbed your mountains snow capped peaks
In your lakes and blue seas I have swum

Now a voice in my head is calling me back
Back to where I was born
Once more to walk in the pine woods
Beneath the warm summer sun

Many years ago I did leave her
As a youth so fearless and bold
Now I hear my south country calling me back
To the place where I can grow gracefully old

I'll never forget the friends that I made
As I wandered your far distant shores
And if ever you visit my south country
You'll find a welcome sign over my door.