Atmosphere is critical
Faces bead with sweat,
Eyeballs flicker nervously
Hands are clenched and wet.
Project beyond critical
Timeslot narrows down,
If there’s to be a future
It’s now we swim or drown.

Management are pacing
Their arses on the line,
Humour now is for the dogs
Long gone the laughing time.
Dawn to dark we labour
No time to count the toll,
Must surmount the crisis
Or desperate heads will roll.

Raving at the workplace
Ragged tempers flare,
Eyeballs searching frantically
Ideas tray is bare.
Job is blown to hell and back
Killed the ****** deal,
By Friday we’ll be on the street
It’s over ... ****** surreal!


Marshalg
29 August 2012







© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

My love, my love these shaky Isles
Abandoned in the vast blue seas,
Born in Mesozoic times
When sedimentary oozes ease.
From far Antarctic mountainsides
To windblown dust from Austral plain
They lay in layers thick and deep
Beneath the Tasman Sea's domain.

A thousand million years of ******
Of plate tectonic shear and drift,
Mid oceanic larva seep
Determines continental shift.
Deep magmatic plumes arise
From down within the planet's core
To burst asunder from the crust
As mountain God's volcanic lore.

Ash and larva from the vent
In pyroclastic feirce display,
Obliterate the cold blue sky
Explosively in massive way.
Rooster tails of feiry ash
And bread crust bombs cascade about
Vulcan roars his rage to all
In violent, vast, volcanic route.

Ignimbrite flows from the vent
In sheets a hundred meters deep
The incandescence, from on high,
Would, watching Angels, cause to weep.
Like quicksilver, it cloaks the land
To cover all in burning flow,
To last a million years as sheets
Of sharded rock where 'ere you go.

So the land was born of fire
And bent and twisted by the force
Of upthrust from the great, beneath
And earthquakes felt throughout, of course.
Earthquakes of unearthly fear
Wrack foundation's very base,
Sudden as the artic gale
Unpredictable to face.

So the shaky Isles were born
Here to lie in ocean's vast,
Clad in forest lush and green
Snowclad mountains, rivers fast.
Well kept cities, well kept towns
Population proud and clean,
Beauty all around is felt
Perched atop creation's dream.

So the Shaky Isles exist
Perfect in their place in time,
Perched atop subducting plates
Perched in ignorance sublime.
What's around the corner now?
Who's concerned, who really cares
For Kiwis make the best of now...
The rest remains as chance declares.

Marshalg
Celebrating a love affair with my beautiful New Zealand.
31 August 2012

Gone the dwindled light of day
Wrested from my megre time,
Lost to restlessness of soul
Theiving inattention's find.

Diverted from the sunset glow
Diverted from the satin air,
A moments crass diversion lost
To innattention's small despair.

A moment from a busy day
Where tumult and confusion find
Exhaustion as the sun descends...
To respite sought within my mind.

Alas the moment passed me by
The folds of satin night descend,
A cup of tea is quietly poured
In waiting for the dark pall's end.


Marshalg
In velvet twilight.
28 August 2012

For my mate Chris*

To sit around in anger…does no favours,
To bellyache to me… It’s all unfair,
To hope somebody else… comes up with answers,
To see the world’s shortcomings… flaunted there.


A lack of motivation keeps you grounded
Friends and family try to keep you at arm’s length,
You loathe the Government’s lack of comprehension
In that joblessness depletes your hope and strength.


You feel those carbohydrates clog your arteries
And see your muscled body turn to flab,
Discipline’s resolve flies to oblivion
And you curse all that… which makes your life so drab.


Disappointment curbs the high expectations,
You feel the planet owes you that, to which you seek,
Aghast to comprehend your own misgivings,
You feel the need to say…but then, you never speak.


Then suddenly… a stark, clear realization
That NOTHING HERE WILL CHANGE…UNTIL YOU DO,
Until you turn around your thinking to endeavour,
Till then that something that you seek… shall hide from you.


So look, my sweetness, look into the mirror
Shed the worry lines that always cloud your brow,
Kick your sorry **** profoundly to tomorrow
And lose the ****** shards of bitterness….RIGHT NOW!



Marshalg
Endeavouring to re-motivate a lost cause.
18 August 2012




© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

A sadness has come over me
As I pass this corner bye,
A junction on the highway,
A lonely cobalt sky.
A sodden pale blue teddy bear
Stands pinioned to a cross
And the glassy glint in Teddy’s eyes
Transfix a sense of loss.

The traffic whizzes past this point
Most people fail to see
The sadness manifested
In his glassy stare at me.
The sadness of a lost young soul
Who failed to take the bend,
Who with his motor cycle crash
Did meet his Maker’s end.

I know not why he died so young,
I know not why he sped.
But know I do, the child like love
He felt for his blue Ted.
The sadness of a pale blue Ted
When pinioned to a cross
Stands sodden on a lonely road
Invoking tears of loss.

Marshalg
At Blue Ted Corner
Highway 20
Taranaki
14 August 2012

Suspended there, between the walls,
My concience, in it's ignorance, calls
Upon my callow, shallow self
To gird the ***** and bridge the shelf
Of failure...in my every day

For which my dear wife...has to pay!

Marshalg
4 August 2012

Hark the Kings of twilight sing
In strong discordant notes so clear
Not strangely, in some harmony,
When tenor tones caress the ear.

Discordant with a resonance
Both deep and bellicose with bass,
A vibrant tremor through the air
Creates sensation’s crest of grace.

And then a silent pause is felt
As soft violas fill the void
And build to carve a melody
Of pulsing rhythm so employed.

A cascade of exotic sound,
A riot fills the senses loud
And smiles of audience grow wide
As wonderment entrances crowd.

With golden light of setting sun
To purple-grey striated sky,
A swelling chorus lifts the song’s
Magnificence to place on high.

A brace of trumpets catch the light
As silver beauty fills the air,
The roll of tymphoni impacts
As plucked mass violin declare…

The cadence hangs in holy light
A breathless expectation nigh,
A soaring riff of brass and string
Brings grand finale to the sky….

A raging beauty fills the soul
The audience as one arise
To drown the theatre with applause
So raucous wild as to surprise!

The orchestra now take the bow
The proud conductor so defers...
For streams of sweat run down his back,
An ice cold beer he now deserves.

Marshalg
At the Auckland Symphonia
4 August 2012

Screaming rage, the old pachyderm charges hard
Scattering predators away from the ravaged corpse of her fallen friend

The carnivorous stork and vulture cloud simultaneously take startled flight & retreat raggedly to the nearest dead tree, there to turn and glare with accusing eyes and cawing clamour. The hyenas and jackals scatter from the stinking cavernous maw of abdomen and scramble for the cover of thorn bush perimeter. Their hideous cackle and yapping adding to the cocophany of the noisy horror in this small, dry and dusty African drama.

Wheeling about the old cow surveys the clearing and, satisfied she has seen the vile things off, turns back to her fallen friend, shuffling through the thick white dust, she stands close by protecting.

Unfurling her massive trunk, she gently wraps it's sensitive tip around the scarred tusk of her fallen companion...and standing there, In a long, long sentinel silence...she remembers.......

Standing flank to flank in waters
Cooling spray upon the hide,
Trunks entwined to rumbled chortle
Bull and cow and calf abide.
Striding through the Serengetti
Grasses tall and sweet and green,
Grazing in this luscious plenty
Happiness in joy unseen.


New born calf cavorts, unsteady
Laughing at her rubber legs,
Keep a watch for lion menace
Always lurking for the dregs.
Cow to cow companionship
Builds the basis of the herd,
One reliant on the other
Cuddly calf to bull absurd.


Sunset on the far horizon
Golden glow across the plain,
Trekking for the waterhole
Through acacia tree domain.
Zebra throng with wilderbeast,
Quail and guinea fowl
Run through grasses long and brown
But leopard on the prowl.


Fun time with marula berries
Dropping from the trees like rain,
Staggering drunk pachyderms
Fall about but feel no pain.
Violence in defensiveness
Circled by enormous rage
Calves protected safe within
Roaring lioness engaged.


Quiet of the evening air
A stillness in the herd
Affection of companionship
'Twixt leather hides doth gird.
Companions together
The wise and the sage,
Companions endureth
Through an elephant's old age.


Kilamanjaro crowned with snow
Though plains are cracked and dry,
Prolonged drought has taken toll
And many creatures die.
Trekking from dry waterhole
A million dusty miles
To find the next one caked with salt
Enough to make you cry.


And when the cloud of death descends
A pachyderm must cry
For the memory of companion
Will bring a sadness to the eye.
Remembering their sister ship
Remembering their pain
Remembering shared elephant-ness
Brings good recall again.


Reluctantly a parting made
And fond and distant memories burn,
The taste of Africa prevails
As  skulking, predators return.



Marshalg
22 July 2012

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Oh the years have paved the way
Across my leathered, weary hide
And wracked their worst, un-countenanced,
Before a mind that can’t abide…

Intolerance of racial plague
Or sanctimonious pedants, vague.

Serenely I have watched it play
Across the tapestry of time,
Watched the rise and fall of man
From point of view of one sublime
Who sits in sun, who sits in shade
Untouched by all the great charade…

Of those who claw a comrade’s face
To gain esteem in power’s grace.

With toothless maw I masticate
The softness of this pure white grain
Untrammelled by the lure of sin,
Untroubled by the drag of strain….

See troubled waters pass me by
From torrent flow to pebble dry.

Through clouded eyes I see it all
The strong, the weak, the proud, the vain,
And those who seek eternity
But seldom pause to sense refrain…

From softly spoken words of love
Where teardrops fall to pools of blood.

Verily I say to you,
Take heed my friend or feel the pain,
From one who knows the way of things,
From one who sorts the chaff from grain…

Take heed or suffer loss from chance
For chance controls this merry dance.

Across the years I’ve sat in sun
Breathed the dust and watch it run
Amok… as sane men have their way,
To rule and wreck another day….

They die alone in cold remorse
Whilst most ignore without recourse.


Marshalg
On the bank of the river Ganges
21 July 2012

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Take a sip of something sweet
Something soothing, something neat,
Roll the tongue around the taste
Take some time, there’s little haste,
Quaffle at the upper throat
And roll the eyes to quench the gloat…
For you are of the chosen few
Who’ve supped forbidden Angel’s dew
To touch the best a life entails
In tasting Heaven’s holy grail.



Marshalg
In Gothic Towers
17 July 2021

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

ALERTS TO FINANCIAL AND MILITARY THREATS IN 2012 EUROPE

By John Cleese (British writer, actor and tall person):

The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent events in Syria
and have therefore raised their security level from "Miffed" to
"Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to
"Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." The English have not
been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran
out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to "A ******
Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "****** Nuisance" warning
level was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada.

The Scots have raised their threat level from "*******" to "Let's get
the *******." They don't have any other levels. This is the reason they
have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.

The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror
alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France
are "Collaborate" and "Surrender." The rise was precipitated by a recent
fire that destroyed France 's white flag factory, effectively paralyzing
the country's military capability.

Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly"
to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective
Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."

The Germans have increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance"
to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher
levels: "Invade a Neighbor" and "Lose."

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual; the only threat
they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy.
These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish
navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Australia , meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No worries" to
"She'll be alright, Mate." Two more escalation levels remain: "******! I
think we'll need to cancel the barbie this weekend!" and "The barbie is
cancelled." So far no situation has ever
warranted use of the last final escalation level.

A final thought -" Greece is collapsing, the Iranians are getting
aggressive, and Rome is in disarray. Welcome back to 430 BC."

Temple of my soul thou do depart
To regions fraught with change unknown,
Regions wracked with tensions unbecoming
To that which is, by nature, pristine and demure.


How , in all sanity, can a mind so clear,
Barge into waters of stuff so toxic, so turbulent?
With no preamble, without a whit of consultation,
Without prior thought?


And now you *******.
Now you point the finger of vile blame
At my simple self. Now you ****** the blade
With malevolence to my breast.


A crimson flood of innocence cascades across the floor.
Confusion clouds the dying eye.
A sensation of childlike rebuke
Is the final thought.



Marshalg
Cast to a cold, dank place in my mind.
9 July 2012





© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Old friend, that shot is picture perfect. Your place (The Gebbie Compound)

is indeed heaven on a hill. You did a fine job in planning and execution. I'm

so happy for you and your lovely wife, you guys deserve what you have created.



Old son, I think we both have found what we have looked for all our lives.

**** good on us! They say; "Good things do come to those that wait".

(Sure, as long as we work ****** hard to get it while we wait.) What we have

earned and our kids make old age bearable.



Steve



A perfect, cold and frosty mid-winters day. Air is biting crisp, sun, warm on my back. Old Egmont towers behind the house gleaming with pristine snow and ice. The tui’s are cavorting in the trees ******* nectar from the early fuchia flowers with their long curved beaks, a flash of green iridescence as they fluff their neck feathers. Mother is cooking something great in the kitchen, she is about to call me in for hot coffee and cake….Life is great Stevo, could not be better.



Like minds-different hemispheres-same world.

Regards M





But for starlight, the night is black, no moon

on the rise. My porch a stage to the music of

crickets and frogs in the summer grass. A gentle

breeze touches me like a lover in the dark, caressingly

cool in my July heat of peaceful repose.



The scents of gardenias and honeysuckle drift

in on the currents and far off up the hill a Coyote

calls to his friends. Cooing night birds mummer.



The barn cats come to join me, silent and careful.

One onto my lap, the other to lay down beside my

chair. Soon the purring of a feline mixes with the

music of the grass and the air. Together we all peer

out into the peaceful void, perhaps thinking the same

thoughts, living fine, being in the moment.



These small perfect bits of time come and go. If only

I could string them all together, like rubies on a chain,

what a priceless necklace they would make and yet,

they cost me nothing and once collected, are not for sale.



© 2012 Marshal Gebbie


  Author's Note


Exchange between two old codgers situated in opposite hemispheres, in opposite seasons, but with a remarkably similar take on the quality of their individual lot in life.

A poem for Steve Yocum


“Hark to me”, a wise man said,
“Behold the past and present thread
Of passions held within your heart,
In memories recalled from the start”.

Treasure flooding through your mind
Of joy released in life’s rewind….

“Hearts, minds and memories, my son,
Will well endure till living’s done”.

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Funny how you perceive a complete stranger

....to be a friend.

- Simply, on the strength of a few lines of prose

- Simply, because of an element of warmth in those words…

- Simply, because of a touch of understanding in the message and a trace of humanity in the tone.



And funny how, over time, you come to rely

On that presence…to be there.

A sort of subliminal assurance that you are

In the proximity of something of value.



And it’s not funny at all

That when this is abruptly withdrawn….

There is a tangible sense of loss, of betrayal.



Funny, really, how vulnerability manifests itself.



© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Piece together portions of an ever shrinking memory

Sift the extraneous, consolidate the sound,

Rid thyself of factions preposterous and fractious

Crystalise the essence of essential and profound.



Immortalise sensations of sweet rapture incarnate

Clutch to your breast all good warmth from the past,

Know what’s retained is the BEST of your being

Treasure each recall and pray that it last.



Love each moment with ardour of passion

Value the brilliance of colour and sound,

Savour the sweetness in apricot nectar

Indulge like tomorrow will NOT be around.





© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Greetings Sissa,

Sunday morning early we walked along the wild black sand beach at the bottom of our road at Taranaki. For once the sea was quiescent, tranquil even. A gentle surge but the air was freezing. A heavy white frost cloaked our pasture at home and the grazing cows were snorting eruptions of hot breath from their nostrils. Over our shoulder old Egmont loomed, whiter than white with a heavy mantle of fresh snow, the foothills just behind home had a good coating too.

Quite often janet & I will bolt out of the sack, just before dawn, have a quick cuppa & drive up to Pukeiti for a walk through the gardens & the bush. We get the beautiful dawn chorus of the birdlife and it is SPECTACULAR!

We planted out some flowering “Companionata” cherry trees..great for the visiting tui’s in spring. They get highly territorial…my tree!..and have ding **** battles, chasing each other at high speed through the bush. Amazing aerobatics. We’ve got dozens of these trees scattered around the place now…in ten years the spring blossom show will be amazing.

Had a bit of bad luck with the vehicle lately, blew the core out of the radiator & cooked the motor, fixed that, drove 24ks down the road and the motor computer died. These things are like hen’s teeth to replace. I found there is a national waiting list of 11 owners sitting on dead landcruisers waiting for 2nd hand computers for the 93 auto model!!! And the 2nd hand computers here are selling for $3000!!
I even wrote to Greg in the States to see if he could pick one up for me…. Then I happened upon this little Asian bloke, just around the corner, who said”Oh I can fix that for you”!....cost me $196….I nearly kissed him!
Anyway mobile again and the old crate is running ,once again, like ****** clock!....but expensive when she stuffs up.

We are both working like automatons….you and your old man would know ALL about that!
We work 12 hours /day, 6 days/week then we jump in the car and launch off to Taranaki, 5 hours distant, to work our arses off, down there all Saturday, then, the next day, Sunday, pack up and barrel off 5 hours up the road back to Auckland… just in time to ****** a few hours sleep before the coming weeks work!....*******!

Sometimes I wonder what the hell it is all about.

Quite enjoying the new job, I’m the “Plant Coordinator” for the Waterview Project.
I keep track of all the plant scattered over miles and miles of construction site, tabulate plant movements, keep the hire companies honest and keep our operators operating! Involves constant driving from site to site, constant computer entries in my trusty laptop and a hellava lot of vigilance because every ******* is trying to beat the ****** system. Much more interesting than the Storman’s job, much more vibrant, much more confrontational!

Just the thing for an adolescent 67 year old.

That’s it from me…. Hope you are happy and keeping it all together. Hope the kids are doing well… mine are all pretty busy and happy with their lot…. Got a lovely call from Boaz at some unearthly hour on Sunday morning… Looks like he will be back in godzone during August.
Obama’s government is giving foreign workers a hard time in the States….too many Yanks out of work in their own country…so he is awaiting his Visa renewal and is doubtful that it will eventuate. Incredibly, his boss just told him that he would like to keep Boaz there, (In the States) for another five years of the projects life!!
Pretty ****** good for a country boy from National Park!

Gotta go, luvya Siss, love to Royboy & a big smootch for the girls.

M

Gone the quill that wrote the line
Lost the wordsmiths softened rhyme,
Lost to us in evening light
The feeling felt in words wrote right,
The feeling felt as friends depart
In hollowness of hollow heart.

Bon voyage Brother

On the recent passing of a colourful Australian poet,
Paddy Martin.

A very firm intention
To tell it as it is
Has the audience attention
On its toes and all afizz,
Though channelled to the circumspect,
With a patterned thought awry
It chaotically cascades
Across the prism of the eye.

It chaotically discharges
In a scattergun array
Of verbal innuendoes
Through a thin, saliva spray,
And all the passion spent in telling,
All the effort of the tale,
Sends a barrage of confusion
To occipital portrayal.

Where the tiny bones of balance
All atremble with the sound
Have discharged interpretation
Through a penny to a pound.
There’s a lost extrapolation,
There’s a blank look on the face
Where the balance of exchange
Has frittered nimbly from this place.

A calmness in both parties
As a sad pretence prevails,
Where communication nexus
Is ignored to save the whales.

Marshalg
Incommunicado
30 May 2012

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Times behold when twisted men are captured by their spleen
When souls will writhe in torment though their thoughts are seldom seen,
When agitation rides aloft with blunt spur on its' ****
And the hounds of hell are baying as though purgatory will pass.
Torment in its' basest form is shaded beastly red
Immersing flocks of faithful in the mind set till they’re dead,
For shredded nails and worry lines, so deeply now ingrained,
Are signatured paralysis of the breed that has abstained.
Abstained in all things beautiful, such as dreams which flow in mirth,
Abstained from eyes of merriment and joyful leaps from earth,
Divorced to all that conjures up the gracious well of love
Divorced from thoughts of holiness in faith, both hand in glove.
Baptised to despondency, inured to sights and sounds
Which lift the mind's creation well beyond all earthly bounds,
Committed to the trench of the dark abyss of gloom
Assigned to unenlightenment...The soul has left the room.

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Turquoise in the morning light
The treetops are alive
With the myriad of birdsong
As the swirling mists arrive
And the shaft of brilliant sunshine
Penetrates the greenish gloom
To illuminate the craggy ridge
In a honeyed, golden bloom.

The rabbits head for burrows
Retreating from the night,
A flock of teal, in unison,
Explosively take flight,
There’s a freshness in the morning air
A tingle to the skin
And the twinkle in the blue eyes
Lets a secret smile begin.

Autumn in the country glade
The russets and the gold,
The song of early crickets
In the leafy knoll takes hold,
There’s a brilliance in the crispness
In the piles of windblown leaves
And the healthy crunch of underfoot
Invokes a sense of ease.

The peacefulness is calming
The solace in the sound
Of the distant song of blackbird
In the tall oaks that surround
And the velvet feel of morning
Thrills the mind to warmly hum
To the glory of occasion
In the warmth of Autumn sun.

Marshalg
Beneath the reds and golds of Autumn leafage.
14 May 2012


© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Caste aside on sand so mean

Where fraud itself is seldom seen,

Where castigation hurled about

Results in scoring scars that route

The sensitive and gentle vein

Of acquiescence’s curtained pain,

Of acquiescence’s shadowed smile

Wherein the strands of shame defile.



Marshalg

In sand so mean.

10 May 2012



© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Tiny things that strike your fancy
Any verse which hits a note,
Messages from all and sundry
Extracts from your favourite quote.
Moments from a treasured movie
Recollections from the past,
Sunday roast from Grandma’s oven
Sights and sounds and smells that last.

Memories of moonlight saunter
Arm in arm with newfound love,
Barefoot where the sand meets water
Lost to all... but stars above.
Walking in the hills at daybreak
Crispness of the frosty verge,
Feel the pounding pulse of living
Feel the joy of being... surge.

Tomatoes from the garden plot
Rich and biting, acid red,
Delicious on hot buttered toast
With liberal salt and pepper, spread.
Gazing at your baby daughter
Softly pink in muscled arm,
Wondering what future holds
For her in love and wealth and harm.

See the grasses thrash to windward
Hear the pounding surf cascade,
Lines of gulls in steady hover
Thunder breaks at lightning fade.
Old friend’s letter, unexpected
Tells of hardship over time,
Loss and sadness unconnected
To good fortune, found in mine.

Tremor in her frail, white fingers
Dancing of her rheumy eyes,
Sharing yesterday’s good tales
To bring a joy to aged disguise.
Lavender in gentle velvet
Serves the honey bee her gold,
Nodding in the balmy breezes
Reminiscent perfume, old.

Cup of tea for all the Aunties
Dear old Fred has passed away,
Sadness... but we all agree
He made the most of every day.
Sun ball on the far horizon
Melting orange, richly gold,
Sinking to the seascape, gone
To let the moonlit night take hold.

Marshalg
Sitting on the Taranaki sand with my love, with nibbles and a glass of wine
Watching the enormous, Autumn sun melt into a flat, flat sea.
April 2012

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Aloof you stand, aloof, alone
High moral ground you make your throne,
So sacrosanct as one to be
Despoiled by pride's hypocrisy.
Above the fray that hostile stare
Entrenched, assured to show the care
That others err whilst you yourself
Preen with sanctimonious wealth.
Aloof you stand, aloof, alone
Enshrouded destitute, poor crone.

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Easter is with us
The end of summer days,
The heat, the sun, the summer fun
The languid lazy ways.
Road gangs are laying asphalt,
The smell of melting tar
And above the wheeling, flocking birds
Prepare to migrate far.
The Autumn tones are in the air
The leaves begin to turn
To dulcet shades of russet gold
With a reddish, browny burn.
 
The church bells ring upon the hill
Believers shuffle forth
To regurgitate their litany
For the holy in the north.
The Christ, the cross, the sacrifice
The purging of the sin.
The sound of money in the plate
May ameliorate an in
To Heaven’s golden, pearly gate
Salvation in the sky,
A tome of absolution
For the good…that’s you & I.
 
Four days of happy Easter fun
To celebrate this week
There’s Easter eggs and hot cross buns
To share out as a treat.
The kids are full of energy
They laugh and leap and play,
The chocolate on their faces
Makes it such a bright, fun day.
 
There’s time to spend with loved ones
And a mood of balmy ease,
Before Winter shakes her cloak out
Throwing cold wind to the trees.
So spend an hour sleeping in,
Saunter to the pub.
Catch a fish or catch some rays
IN THE EASY EASTER CLUB.
 
 
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
21st March 2008

An ode to my long and satisfying relationship with the product of Portugal’s Douro Valley.

Golden amber, smokey smooth
Rich with pleasured bite
Spreading warmth to ample girth
The brandy’s fine tonight.

Dustless, standing on my shelf
Bathing in half light,
Golden highlights shadow deep
Paints Douro Father's right.

Born amidst the hills of schist
On vines that root in rock
In patterns neat and quite arcane
Of ancient grappa stock.

Old men sit by river barge,
Mustachioed and wise,
To argue politics and sip
God’s amber nectar prize.

Tepid sun is setting low
To throw long shadows tight,
To bathe the vines of soft green tones
In liquid amber light.

Golden spirit, smokey smooth
Glows with silken light
Satisfaction’s spreading warmth
Paints Douro Father’s right.

Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
Sipping a tumbler of amber warmth in New Zealand’s Autumn sunset.
26 March 2012

White face at the window pane
Eyes of slate, grey blue,
Gazing out at frozen world
Intent on thoughts of you.
Body wasted by disease
future days unsure
But love for you is paramount
In my lifeway's swinging door.

White face at the window pane
Stubble on my chin
Gaze to middle distance
Where the fog begins to thin.
Pain is now my sister,
Future days unsure
But hope remains eternal
In my lifeway's swinging door.

White face at the window
Fogging on the pane
Pale eyes watch for signs of you
Which won't occur again,
For your heart has wandered
future days unsure
Love is lost to loneliness
In lifeway's swinging door

White face at the window
Destitute of joy
Drifting shadows take your place
You're gone my golden boy.
Emptiness is amplified
In Future days unsure
Now laughter sheds it’s pleasure
At lifeway’s swinging door.

Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
13 March 2012

Meanderings of maudlin whit
Out beyond the thoughts that hit,
On matters vital and profound,
Which cause progression’s surge to ground.

Rather those that sit mundane
In ordinary pedestrian vein.
Living thoughts which cloud the mind,
Congesting inspiration’s  find.

Sifting thoughts of where to cope
To seek diversion’s antidote,
To caste away confusion’s hiss,
To render clear...creation’s KISS!

Marshalg
8 March 2012

Hark now brothers, surely you
Will have been to where I’ve trod,
Out toward the far extreme
Of reason, near the face of God?

Surely you have ventured out
To realms of the far extreme,
Out beyond exertion’s pain,
Out beyond the child birth scream.

Come my brothers, tell your tale
Of how you tempted ****** fate,
In how you hovered on the edge
Of illicit exultation’s gate.

Tell me why you lied to me
Whilst swimming in your smile’s disguise?
What panic wracked your timid soul
When guilt exposed your weak, blue eyes?

How do you compromise your soul
When life’s reality drives home
To leave you standing high and dry
Abandoned there, exposed, alone?

What fantasy commits you to
The nervous way you handle guilt,
The way you always laugh too loud
And protest innocence to hilt?

Laughter will have creased your face
When realisation touched your brow,
Without exception-ALL WE SOULS
Share these weaknesses right now!

Hark now brothers, surely you
Will have been to where I’ve trod
Out beyond the far extreme,
Far beyond the frown of God.*

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
9 March 2012

It is a slow day in a little Greek Village. The rain is beating down and the streets are deserted. Times are tough, everybody is in debt, and everybody lives on credit. On this particular day a rich German tourist is driving through the village, stops at the local hotel and lays a €100 note on the desk, telling the hotel owner he wants to inspect the rooms upstairs in order to pick one to spend the night. The owner gives him some keys and, as soon as the visitor has walked upstairs, the hotelier grabs the €100 note and runs next door to pay his debt to the butcher. The butcher takes the €100 note and runs down the street to repay his debt to the pig farmer. The pig farmer takes the €100 note and heads off to pay his bill at the supplier of feed and fuel. The guy at the Farmers' Co-op takes the €100 note and runs to pay his drinks bill at the taverna. The publican slips the money along to the local ******* drinking at the bar, who has also been facing hard times and has had to offer him "services" on credit. The ****** then rushes to the hotel and pays off her room bill to the hotel owner with the €100 note. The hotel proprietor then places the €100 note back on the counter so the rich traveller will not suspect anything. At that moment the traveller comes down the stairs, picks up the €100 note, states that the rooms are not satisfactory, pockets the money, and leaves town. No one produced anything. No one earned anything. However, the whole village is now out of debt and looking to the future with a lot more optimism. And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is how the bailout package works.


Wonderful article passed on to me by an anonymous author

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
6 march 2012

A gossamer extravagance
More valuable than gold
But substance less as ether
Impossible to hold.

This is all the time we have
Every second past is lost
Irrretreivable to we
Who ,so nervously, count the cost.

Every mote of passing time
Fading from the now in mists
Losing shape’s integrity
Whilst coloured radiance desists.

What is soon to be, is now
And relegated fast to then,
Vanquished in a flick of fraud
Of stolen time to frantic men.

Like dust it pours through fingers
Seconds irretrievably depart,
Fleeing fast from consciousness,
Wrenched away from racing heart.

Lying in our skinny beds
We sweat away our seconds now,
Flicking eyeballs counting down
Till death eternal shows us how.

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
4 March 2012

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

I Warrant that thy lack of care
Is bound within a hard restraint,
Bound within thy calloused fist
To disavow convention’s taint.

I Warrant that thy steely eye
Hath fixed upon the prize of yore,
Hath disregarded consequence
In disinterring mankind’s law.

I Warrant that thy wall of pride
Hath steeled thy arm of self regard,
In keeping thy  momentum’s rush
From dissipating conscience hard .

I Warrant that the breath thou breathe
In  staling air of all contrite,
Contaminates the very heart
Of those who roar “Seig Heil” to *****.

I Warrant in the dead of night
When phantoms stalk thy peace of mind,
Incineration souls aflame
Might cause thy yellowed  teeth to grind.

I Warrant that through centuries
These ghosts shall ride thy spirit hard,
And man shall weep in horror when
He looks upon thy cruel regard.

Marshalg
Warrantor to an indiscriminate other
24 February 2012

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

To our darling Veronica

With affection, she I call “Sweet Pea”
The lady’s smile, I always see
When she waltzes by with sponge and mop
With a cheerful wave to all that lot
Who never see her scrubbing there...
To tidy kitchen, loo and stair,
Who never see her great technique
Let alone defer to speak.....

Sweet Pea we’ll miss your great finess
Your bright and cheery fix of mess,
Your happy way of making right
That which most refuse to sight,
May you find your life’s real gain
Dispelling old folk’s aches and pain.
May you have sweet days of bright
Without a cleaning mop in sight.

Love and a great big kiss of gratitude
For the wonderful sparkling world you have given us.

Love from us lot @ VPT

Eleven strong went in to bat
When dusk was in the air,
Eleven strong did face the wall
For others had shown flair.
They'd mustered up a goodly score
They’d shown they had pinache,
They'd demolished Tunnel bowling
And made our field work look a hash.

Eleven strong went into bat
With gritted teeth and ire,
Eleven set the pitch alight
With galantry and fire.
The leather ball was massacred
A pounding it did score
With repetitious boundaries,
Drilled cover drives and more.

The marker looked excited
The sweat ran down his brow
And as the score did level
He had to ask the Angels how?
And the providences shone
Upon this galant Tunnel team
For Claude's classy, deft square cut
Ensured we grinned the winning gleam.

Cricket is to Englishmen
As golfing is to Yanks,
And cricket played with pageantry
Make the civilized give thanks.
And cricket played with elegance
Fills the English heart with joy,
And Victoria Park Tunnel Team
Have downed an ale to victory's ploy!

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
Auckland
17/2/2010

Down her cheek there rolls a tear
Lowered eyes reflect the fear
She feels that others see the pain
She tries to hide to mask the shame.

Shame of what she has become
Despite her efforts to succumb
To good intentioned, sound advice
Delivered at preposterous price.

Shame at how the mind deplores
Those temperamental personal flaws,
Of slights inferred and insults hurled
At friend and foe with flag unfurled.

Friend and foe who tried to help,
Who lowered guard  to feel the welt
Of verbal horsewhip to the jowl,
To violently recoil with howl.

Betrayal in its basest form
All sympathetic help withdrawn.
She furiously stands distraught
In isolation’s cold white thought.

Down her cheek there rolls a tear
Of distain for the eyes that jeer,
Direction of the darts of blame
From whence no help will come again.

Marshalg
Collateral damage
4 February 2012

When I look into the mirror
Each morning after dawn
To peruse the wrinkled skin
And slack musculature drawn,
When I snore upon the couch
Before flashing TV screen
To be woken by my sweetheart
For a dinner yet unseen.

There’s an overriding likelihood
That achievements made to date
Will be my lot for evermore....
An admission that I hate!
And the scent of hot seduction
Though a feature of my youth,
Shall be confined to flash of fantasy
Amidst pains in nagging tooth.

Enduring twinge of aching joints
To the whistling in the ears
And the apnoea of sleeplessness
Which just consolidates the fears.
Homeopathy has promise
To the happy road to health
But pharmaceuticals are farming
For my meagre worldly wealth.

Though the promise of the afterlife
Which held aloft on high,
Presents a gaggle of good churches
Who will proffer you the sky.
Best to form your own religion
With philosophy of POW!
To say" IT’S ALL ABOUT ME, BROTHER"
AND I WANT MY YOUTH BACK NOW!!


Marshalg
Wielding the Gold Card with an impotent flourish
AUCKLAND
25 January 2012

For such is this precarious life
To have these souls haunt me so.
To have the trammels of a lifetime endured,
Re- broadcast in a rude succession...
Of moments of acute, squirming discomfort!

Moments of red embarrassment from the ether,
From within the grey catacombs
Of my own ****** recall.

Hauled out by the memories.
Memories shaded by individuals of note,
By gossamer ghosts of association, long, long  passed,
Who hold sway over my fragile peace of mind.

Phantoms who temper my serenity
With episodes of vile recollection,
Plucked from the detritus of a chequered past
By ethereal, pointing fingers of blame.

Do you out there, in all truth,
Not suffer a similar ******* malady?

Marshalg
Watching the Ripples Radiate.
21 January 2012

Whist shopping in the mall last week
To fill the Christmas tree,
A derelict old soul held out
His grubby hand to me.
"Spare a copper for a cuppa mate?"
He asked with shining eyes,
And there was something in his manner
Which quite took me by surprise.
Delving deep into my pocket
A Christmas smile upon my face,
I came up with five bucks
Which made his world...a better place.
He thanked me so effusively
His face a wrinkled grin,
Then we went our separate ways
And felt the joy of Christmas
...SING !

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY
Love from Janet & Marshal

Weighing brutality's candour is taxing
Feeling the certainty, heavily dark,
Sonorous mutterings echo in twilight
Whitely, loquaciously, utterly stark.

***** ***** in a temperament simmering
Stalking through rage in a judgemental way,
Lurching for conflict from deep in the mindset
Locked in a skirmish of consequence play.

Searing white pain of brutality's candour
Reeling from obvious lack of control,
Obliquely collapsed beneath blue jackaranda
Flaccidly spent, I surrender my role.

Marshalg
In absentia
7 December 2011

In the fullness of time
The state may be reached
Where man’s comprehension,
Embedded and beached,
May run the gamut
Of realms unconcieved
And bring him to terms
With the great unbelieved.

He may come face to face
With his devils and God
And face stark realisation
That old pathways he’s trod,
Have rendered him sterile
And lost to the world
Of enlightenment’s treasured
Potential unfurled.

He may curse the day
When he wallowed within
The restricted, dark walls
Of his ego and sin.
The restricted thinking
Possession allows
And the deadening influence
Of substanceless vows.

When he wallowed within
The restrictions of self
And condemned his tomorrows
To rot on the shelf.
In pursuing the way
To such shallow relief
He convicted potential’s
Sad limit....A THEIF!!

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
3 December 2011

When you live on the wrong side of sixty
You flirt with cold death every day,
You **** sweet air in like nectar
And you hold your breath and you pray,
For tomorrow may bring a black tumour
Or a spasm, or seizure or more...
Then whatever you do, whatever you say,
You’ll end up prone on the floor.

For our time on this planet is temporary,
Our time of enjoyment is brief,
Just pull out the stops and let loose man
Live it up, kiss your girl, take relief.
Tomorrow is lost in the dreamtime,
Today is the essence of being,
So kick up your heels and spin all your wheels
and send all those worries a-fleeing.

When you live on the wrong side of sixty
Your skin has a penchant to sag
And no matter how hard you diet
Your gut gets as wide as a bag.
Your whit was once so exciting
Your repartee so sharp
Now you mumble and wheeze
And occasionally sneeze
And frequently squeeze out a ****.

Oh life was once so enticing
The sparkle and crackle was there
When you danced on the floor
The crowd yelled for more
And you dazzled with lights in your hair.
Now the dance floor is silent and empty
The music has faded away
Just to have it once more
My poor heart does implore ?
... But the crimson has faded to grey.

Now you’ll think I’m buried in sorrow,
Enmeshed in self pity galore
But the fact of the matter
Is served on a platter
… I really don’t care anymore.
For you see I’ve learnt a great secret,
Discovered a pearly white truth....
That life is as free
As a bird in a tree...
And remorse is really uncouth!

So no more do I wallow in sadness,
No more do I tear out my heart,
Instead I rejoice in my gladness
And retrace all the steps from the start.
For living’s a sequence of pictures
To give or take as you choose,
If your selections awry
Then you’re lost in the sky
...you pick the wrong one... You lose!

The sun comes up in the morning,
The light erupts in the sky
And the beautiful song of the blackbird
Brings a tear of joy to my eye.
The golden greens of the shadows
The crystal glint of dew
Encapsulates the rapture
I feel on seeing you.
For a friend makes life worth living,
A smile a golden door
To the promise of tomorrow,
Oh! The future’s good ..once more.

When you live on the wrong side of sixty
Life’s lessons treat you right,
You separate the wheat from chaff
And celebrate the fight.
You make the most of good stuff
And embrace all the fun,
You interact with positives ..
DO THIS,
AND FRIEND ….YOU’VE WON!

Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
21st January 2007

I felt his shadow pass me by
That friend of mine from yesteryear,
Long gone, his bones had turned to dust
But still his laugh, I seem to hear.

I felt his shadow pass me by
Familiarity in the play
When warm companions pause to smile
As chance depicts they pass this way.

I felt his shadow pass me by
So close, I almost felt his touch,
An empty path I turned to find
And sudden sadness hurt, so much.

I felt his shadow pass me by
Unsettled in a fleeting smile,
Remembered from a distant time
When laughter rang aloud, awhile.

Then laughter rang aloud for us
When warmth in our friendship grew,
Until his shadow passed from me
To death’s dark door, alas, anew.


Marshalg
Sitting in the light of the deep, velvet glade.
29 November 2011

Serenely independent  of ineptitude in life
Unclamoured by resentment’s inconvenience and strife,
When borne upon a wave of incredible blue sea
To leave a beaming smile on this old, wrinkled face of me.

Gleefully convulsing at a funny story told
When the teller roared with laughter and crossed her legs to hold,
And the day began with sunshine and a twinkle in the eye
And progressed to such hilarity, to make a grown man cry.

And once you’ve got the giggles, they’re impossible to lose
Despite the glass of water or the remedy you choose.
The tickle of the moment will make you catch your breath
And you’ll erupt in gales of laughter and quite *** yourself bereft!

Oh the joy to have a  wet spot on a sunny afternoon
When the pheromones are coursing and the day is for the loons
When the aching in your belly joins the weakness in the knees
And reminds you of the magic found in laughter, if you please.

Marshalg
Tickled pink in the sunshine
23 November 2011

Lazy days and choppy waves
Upon a copper sea,
A breezy, warming westerly
Is blowing down on me.

Sunlight striking wavelets
Below clouds of cotton cool
And seagulls hang in squadron lines
Aloft from oyster pool.

Road signs judder in the breeze
Ripples weave amongst long grass,
Mangroves bend in unison
And asphalt bakes in molten glass.

A parasol of brilliant blue
A picnic basket brimming high
With lemonade and icy beer
Whilst sausages and onions fry.

Two barking dogs cavort with joy
Chasing ******* sandy beach,
Leaping high in summer air
Running, fetching, ***** to each.

The lazy summer saunters in
Engulfing us with solar heat,
The pretty girls wear tiny shorts
Which breathless boys find such a treat.

Pohutukawa’s bursting forth
In waves of rich and scarlet red
Which juxtapose dark olive greens
Of leafage midst each flower bed.

A sky of brilliant powder blue
With salt spray aura in the air
As swimmers splash in gales of fun
Hot sunlight baubles kiss their hair.


Marshalg
Port Waikato beach
15 November 2011

© 2011 Marshal Gebbie

I sit quietly by myself
and let your features drift through my mind,
let the thrill of recollection
stimulate my eyes to wrinkle
in a slow and happy smile.
 
The warmth of intimacy remembered
causes a searing red response
to my glowing personage.
 
Drenched with pusating happiness
am I at having shared so much,
in so short a time,
four days of the happiest Easter that I can recall.
 
My expression fails me
 in my urgent need to tell you
of the excruciating love
you cause me so easily.
I am consumed with the most intense feelings
of sensitive , sweet longing.
Christine, this hurts me so beautifully.
 
My fancy runs to a grassy glade
splashed with deep green shade
and warm April sunshine;
excited children splash amid the stones
of a bubbling creek
and shreik with delight
in their careless fun.
 
To us, scintillating sights and sounds,
a spiritual bond of unhampered, happy humanity
and a grassy sunlit swath of beauty.
Together we sit and warmly enjoy
the conciousness of each others nearness.
 
Smile on my man
for you are loved
by one who, in all truth,
deserves a Prince.
Amble off to bed my friend
for you are tired and happy.
Dream of her
and remember when
In a moment of love,
she did softly whisper
“Happy Birthday my Darling”
 
And, as I recall,
your heart almost burst.
 
Marshalg
Albury
9th April 1969

From origins of humble pie
From parentage so bland,
A simple soul with simple goals
He sprang from South Auckland.
The green, green grass of Tuakau
The onion fields of home,
Wherein he tended hives of bees
For golden honeycomb.
 
Tall and lanky, mighty man
He strode through life in tune
With little fanfare, little flair
No technicolor moon,
To choose the low key profile
Was an automatic thing,
Humility was in his blood
Elan, a spurned gold ring.
 
Self conscious, long and concave chest
A toothy lantern jaw,
With skinny ribs and pallid skin,
A boy could want for more?
Bright shiny eyes and earnest will
He gathered up his gear
And conquered Mt Olympian
Without a trace of fear.
 
A forte found, a passion sprung,
A love for mountain air.
The rocky crags and pristine snow
The cold wind in his hair.
***** after ***** his long legs climbed
His skill and ardor grew,
And all at once he found himself
In a Himalayan crew.
 
The stories told the legends made
Those mighty deeds alone,
Both he and Tenzing stood astride
The planet’s summit dome.
They went to where no other man
Had ever been before.
They conquered Everest’s soaring peak,
They witnessed heaven’s door.
 
And on and on through life he strode
He raised a happy brood,
But tragedy would strike and ****
That joy in Kathmandu.
To ressurect, to lift your game
From whence you were so low.
It takes a special breed of man
To wear that dreadful blow.
 
The Sherpa schools and hospitals
Were built by funds he raised,
He organized good teachers
And the building Trusts he paid.
In far Nepal and India too
His fame did spread afar
But this man kept his ego
Firmly locked up in a jar.
 
He shot the mighty Ganges
In a jet boat through and through
He drove a Fergi to the Pole
And through McMurdoe too.
Across the world his fame did grow
To epic size and plan
But in his heart he stayed intact
An ordinary man.
 
Throughout this fair and lovely land
I think it’s true to say
That every man & boy & girl
And farmer baling hay,
Respects this Kiwi Icon true
And salutes, to a man,
This epitome of greatness
From the Himalayan land.
 
Today we said a sad farewell,
The rich and famous too.
All gathered here in squally air
In thousands, me and you.
We celebrated greatness
And a noble life supreme.
We tasted humble graciousness
In a grateful Sherpa’s dream.
The words were said, so well I thought
Reflecting, probably,
This lifetime will not see again
The like of Hillary.
 
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
22 January 2008

Along I strolled a country path
spread with leaves of happy shade,
sunspots sprinkled on the turf,
insects humming in the glade.
 
Towering gumtrees soar aloft
running mauve to whitish tan,
strips of bark hang limply downward
richly capped with leafy crown.
The great bowl squats, it’s fan of
massive roots inumerable.
 
The leaves are wet
and silver sunlight sparks from sheen to sheen,
dazzling those who care to notice
moss so green,
and lacelike in it’s tiny brittle intricacy
 
Sunlight stirs the breeze to eddy
swirls of leaves in turn do bring
the brown eyed blackbird out to sing
his lilting challenge;
blue crisp air.
 
Delightful is the word I choose
to announce my sentiments,
nature in late summer gown,
drab winter in disgust
relents another day with thunderous frown.

Marshalg 
Ferntree Gully
26th March 1969

Resultant from years of financial haggling
The Money Boys come to the fore
Capitalizing on predatory trading
Manipulating for profits galore.
Leveraged stocks and debt obligation
advantage producing high dividend yield,
Squeezing the borrowers mortgage commitment,
Showing the hopeless the foreclosure field.
Passionless people with passionless faces
Smiling with fathomless eyes at your plight,
Knowing that if foreclosure is pending
Return on the sale will turn out all right.

Inflationary pressures are gradually worsening
Our Treasury man is flexing his arm
He’s keeping a close eye on monetary policy
Holding the cash rate to stop fiscal harm.
Upside and downsides defy expectation,
Rampantly wobbling the real estate boom,
Uncertainties globally, holding to ransom,
That American sub prime must remedy soon.

The high Government spending and big dairy pay outs
The rocketing prices of everyday stuff
Ridiculous rules for control of emissions
And fiscal expansion that’s really too tough.
Domestic inflation is making it harder
The Treasurer’s threatening to hike it this year
Persistent uncertainties running quite rampant
And our money communities sniffing the air.

Do you have faith in the bank institution?
Do you trust them with all of your funds?
In the event of collapse do you think you’ll be honoured
With return of deposits in full total sum?
Not on your Nellie my fine young depositor
An unsecured creditor fellow are you,
You go to the back of the line if there’s failure
You’re hung high and dry at the end of the queue.
You can yell and complain till the sun sets my friend
Compose all the letters you like to the judge.
But the fact of the matter in Money Men chatter
Means IT’S LEGAL and ON THIS OUR STATE WILL NOT BUDGE!

So the money boys win, never mind about justice
Causing division right here on our plate.
There’s the rich and the poor, the haves and the have nots
Social corrosion in wealth based hate.

Extrapolate out and you witness this worldwide
The fabulous West and the destitute poor,
The pina coladas and Chevrolet excess
Thin starving kids on dirt African floors.
Indulgent young starlets with ******* teasers
Black Ethiopian mothers in rags.
The fat and the frivolous gorging on beefsteak
Filthy and homeless men begging for ****.

When you bring it all back it’s a fraudulent system
Where the money men cause a division in man
Instead of devising a planet of sharing
They grab and they gouge and they keep all they can.
The God of GET is worshipped widely,  Egocentric, selfish man
Tomorrows future hangs in the balance.
…WOULD YOU LAY ODDS ON GETS’ GREAT PLAN ?


Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
25 January 2008


  

© 2011 Marshal Gebbie

There comes a time, my Darling, when we must all relinquish the reigns.

I wrote each of our boys a letter . It spoke of our pride and love for them. It set them free and wished them Godspeed. It gave gentle , but good advice.

The letter told them of the wealth of possibilities out there and the choices which lay at their feet. It showed them the broad, clean canvass which lay before them.

It told them of our high expectations and the need for them to stay within society’s guidelines. It told them about social conscience and responsibility to friend and family.

It told them of the need to produce their very best work at all times, to strive for innovation and improvement. To take pride in their creations.

Those letters I think, made a significant change in the thinking of both boys.
The letters lay open the heavy gate of adulthood, for them to choose to pass through.

And I must tell you my Sweet, that writing and delivering those letters, left me standing quietly, with a strange, remote and sad feeling of contemplative emptiness.


To Darling Janet from her loving husband.

Marshalg
Auckland, NZ
5 November 2011

Plucked spinets in discord
To a harmony of chorus,
Sonorously pitched
On a warm Summer eve.
Balmy is the air
In a shimmering blue silence
And the purity of cadence
Leads the Godless to believe.

Passers bye pause
In the magical moment,
All heads rotate
To the origin of sound,
Heavenly cascades
Through the twilight of evening
Causing couples to dance
As though jewelled and begowned.

Delicate resonances
Entwine the moment,
Swayed rythmic rapture
Entrances the crowd,
Ensembles of satyr
Arouse tender senses
In caressing the maidens
To pink ****** proud.

Pink ****** proud
Are the breathless young maidens,
Bright shining eyes
From young tapping toes.
The rapture of spinets
Played deftly with passion
In the cool of the night,
Where a pale moonlight knows.

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
2 November 2011