Love of family and fly-fishing: twin tributaries flowed into your heart like a braided river. Paradoxically, a sociable man who preferred to be alone on some braided river, basking in the peace of the wilderness, hearing only birdsong and the gentle whirr of the fly line, its nylon whipping to where you hoped the fish would rise. Patience comes easily in peaceful surroundings, unlike waiting for the blessing of grandchildren. Eventually rewarded with five blessings. You always said what a lucky man you were. I’m glad your luck held because you would weep to see your precious braided rivers drying up down here, ****** dry by the farmers’ greed for white gold and the threatened tarāpunga (Black-billed gulls) getting their nests crushed by callous four-wheel drives. It would be enough to make your big, generous heart burst.
your haunting hands, my anxious eyes your passion burning leaves me hypnotized by the glow of the flame, its unpredictability the heat of the flame, but you are so undeserving should be perfuming my body in your kisses should be dancing your fingers in my rivers they call out your name, haunted even in the day haunted at every sight of rain and Janelle Monae we were in the eye and I was naive now my anxious eyes follow me and your haunted hands lead me to an inner journey to find the key to unlock and unblock my potential
Down by the river I lie alone. Folks wade on the banks, Sifting for gold. Washing the aches from their brittle bones. This land of the forgotten, has never felt so close to home. Detached from the blood-oiled machine, Not much to part with, but Every footstep carries with it An imprint of meaning. The current here Flows away from greed. Deposits into a reservoir, Of pure intentions and peace. Tucked away from the cracked city streets That mirror the crying streaks of those bewitched by the banal belief Of progress by any means. Power here, Is a drink for the weak. The outstretched arms of willow trees, Cradle this quaint town. The last bastion of human passion. Bereft of malevolence. Indeed, the realms of Hell seem to have a slice of heaven left.
Come to the river The river knows everything It contains all shades Jasper, emerald, sapphire No past, no future But a deathless present is There. Swim and know all From the mountains to the seas. Intimate secrets Are reflected to the sky Listen closely to its cry
A drop of water Almost empty, just a quarter A rain drop daily Light is fading,darkness... maybe A wave, an unexpected splash Feeling weak , I just crashed Rivers flowing, oceans wild Its all gone, I just died.