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  Nov 2023 Marshal Gebbie
George Krokos
I once knew a girl from a north country shore 
as it was some place I had been to before.
We had met one fine day going down the street
each walking in opposite directions sweet.
We were both minding our own business when
an incident happened for us to meet then;
some elderly lady with a shopping bag
was coming along but got caught in a snag;
one of her shoes on the uneven pavement
nearly sent her headlong towards derailment.
Fortunately for her we were both there to
stop her from falling and to save the bag's spew.

As we helped the lady and looked at each other
we caught a gleam of light in our eyes to bother
all preconceived notions of what life was about
and it seemed we were both uneasy to find out.
For we looked up and away with sighs of relief
then back again at each other in disbelief.
I couldn't help seeing then the look on her face;
reflections of my own as from a mirrored place.
Or was it an image from deep within my heart
projected outward being therein from the start?
What happened next was not so amazing to tell
as we spoke certain words of greeting and farewell.
Written in January, 2023
  Nov 2023 Marshal Gebbie
George Krokos
There are certain feelings in my heart that I won’t try to explain
which if I were to tell you about them you’d probably complain.
The well-springs of our heart run deep and determine how we live
meaning: if we don’t allow them to flow naturally hold us captive.
From 'The Quatrains' ongoing writings since the early 90's.
  Nov 2023 Marshal Gebbie
George Krokos
You and I will most likely be gone as there'll be hardly anyone else around
without a building left standing, to be seen, anywhere near on the ground.
There'll be chaos and destruction wherever one may happen to look about
with the screams of women and children heard from afar in pain no doubt.
The voices of men crying together with words mumbled in resignation
addressed to a deity that had been forsaken long ago in condemnation.
Days of the future foretold now are passing under cover of a blackened sky
with the smell of smoke and ashes slowly rising from the ground to pry.
The earth as it has been known in people's memories now exists no more
and former things of beauty loved been shattered to pieces on the shore.
Hopelessness and helplessness are words to express the current situation
with no effort on anyone's part to make amends in a general desperation.
The howling of many dogs and other creatures can also be heard as well
with the sound of rolling thunder fading in the distance is a story to tell.
Flashes of lightning seen in the clouds above add a surreal touch to be
made out or viewed like it's doomsday come at last for those left to see.
With the earth itself trembling from all the current devastation around
there's no one to speak words of comfort to subdue the noise profound.
Like a worst case scenario the images will be etched in the hearts 'n minds
of all those who've remained alive, in one piece, the way that true guilt binds.
Written in Dec'22. I once read a similar poem by a female poet many years ago on another website to which I commented saying it was too negative and pessimistic but these days views expressed on such topics are becoming more commonplace even with me trying to imagine what may never happen. Or is it happening now? Hmm...............
Marshal Gebbie Nov 2023
The air hangs crisp in this lilting shadow of a day.

Towering nimbo cumulus cloud soars high in gigantic billowing columns, expanding dramatically against the bluest of blue skies.
Spring is here in New Zealand, the farmers are mowing hay and the corn is sprouting asunder in bright green rows on newly tilled, harrowed fields.

I sit here on the elevated porch in my favourite chair, sipping a cut glass tumbler of Bushmills Irish, (******* only).
Far below me, across tumbling hills of impossible green, the blue Tasman sea stretches out to a far horizon.

I can hear the rush of waterfalls in the native forest below me. Crystal clear water tumbling from the mountains rearing vertically behind the property. Water cascading over rugged, moss covered  boulders, splashing noisily into dark pools, the ripples radiating out to the deep shadow of emerald fern clad banks.

Bright Azaliah's and rhododendron trees are flowering in profusion in the garden, shadows are lengthening on the acreage of lawn and blackbirds cavort energetically, plunging sharp beaks deep into the green, seeking plump worms to eat. Tui's are calling their lyrical tunes from the fringe of forest and a hint of mist runs a finger plume across the base of the adjacent, dark high volcanic peak.

The moment has a touch of beauty, the stillness of the air, the bite of evening chill, the filtered golden light of the lowering setting sun. The mellowness of the warming whisky .

A very special moment of solitude and quiet wonder, a time to ponder and celebrate this magical gift of life.

9 November 2023
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