i recall
with a fondness
blurred by years
the town of
my formative years

in the mountains
the heart of the table lands
dissected by a highway
it crouched, along the sides
of a shallow valley

i remember a greeness
that came from the trees
eucalypt and pine
most prominent
in my mind
and the grass that grew
lush and tall
only to be mown
each Saturday morn

i remember
churches and schools
the wide expasnses
of playing fields
and parks with
hurdygurdys and swings
i remember the pool,
that too turquoise
rectangle,
that glistened
with wet invitation
and on the highest peak
the stolid grey water  tower
lording it over all

i remember rough tarmac
under my feet, running from
light pool to light pool at dusk
and frost on picket fences
in early mornings,
like delicate sugar candy
solidier braving the early sun

our house, small on a large block
with hydrangea at the front
wisteria overtaking the fenceline
an at the back door a concrete slab
painted fire engine red,
but faded to overipe watermlon pink

poplar trees garding the back
and the smell of onions
burning on the grill
hill'*******with tennis ball
and pantyhose
standing  to silent attention


and in the forground
my brothers and clans
playing football, league
with passion and
burgeoning skill

all this comes to mind
on a cold winter's day
i may of come a long way
but my heart still
ties me to there
and the memories
make the knots

my eyes bleed to the sound of the city
made my heart stop to the silence of the noise
birds so quiet as the sun burnished my body
Is this the place where the end does come

ant like features as they move with a purpose
stop at nothing ...nothing but a stare
no care for another ..no greeness here
aspiration lives as they break our bones  

the town was of pearly ..cockles and eels
gone is the pie ,mash and real ales
gone is the love of a place we called home
london a city lost to the throws

I took a drink of cool, clean water,
That came from within a wishing well,
It tasted sweet and filled me deeper,
With precious life that came to me.

I wanted more, of this cool beverage,
So, took another drink, then took two,
It filled my body with such  robust flavor,
That on my journey I could now venture on.

When coming upon a run-down farmhouse,
Where wind blew whispfully in swaying trees,
I picked a pear from the nearest pear tree,
And held the fruit in hand so gracefully.

The pear was sweet, the juice ran rapidly,
Down on my chin, onto my denim shirt,
I felt the grit, the fruit soon was  tastefully,
Set fire to my tastebuds so endlessly.

I glanced upon the cornfields so lonely,
Standing tall and giant they reached for sky,
The greeness filled my mind with fancy,
Then, so I wandered to fields to further see.

Within the field, a lovely, young beauty,
Was pulling corn from the green, green stalks,
Her smile, a greeting, to me weary wanderer,
I took her hand and handled it so tenderly.

She said she spent her days in the cornfields,
I sensed she wanted to switch places with me,
To wander aimlessly, through nearby counties,
In search of self so then so senselessly.

But me, a mortal, mere man of mans' time,
Would what give readily to find all the day,
To stand silently within cornfields, green I see,
To shuck corn from the cornfields so handily.

i have(foot brutally)

               in grass newly wet

trod

the lick of

                    waifish

                                   damp

greeness('tween toes particularly futile blushed)at
beads of damson
                                slung eve,
                                                     falls

              
                            A

                S


                    T

          A
                    
            R into earth SWELLS
                                                  crystal
                                        keen
                                  
glassy summer night
crisply etched in sleeping trees

               FLOWERS!at whose

gentler fullness

                            the jagged suddenly

                            cold

                            of
                            "goodbyesun"
                            
                             whispered the errant
                             predictable mountain
                             slunk
                                       fat
                                             in
                                                   dark
                                                             i

There are no houses here
just hills with billabongs
sheep raiding pastures
each contained to its own
and the greeness of the valley
is submerged within my being
bearing the streams from the sun

There are trees smiling
attired in greeness and sheen
whilst others are withered
unbranched, unclothed, branded
each to its own paradise
unaware of the other’s existence
reserved in framed ponds

Thoughts to Cootamundra
where reasons are sacrificed
and the words muted are said
and each passageway is a memory
that reforms my tapestry
awaiting the hushed winter winds
at the heart of the autumn breeze

this thing is very pretty.
it does not say much,
its cheeks are pale over
and beneath blossomed with crimson.

it has 2 light eyes
of greeness which
move softly over the nose
and lips–2 florid strips of pinking.

its hair is spun of evening sunlight,
red hushed and riven with ray.

this thing is rare
and beautiful
and lovely beyond lovely.

this thing is a girl,
she says
her name.

her eyes move softly,
and her cheeks shine as blood with snow.

few things have ever been so perfect,
few things have ever been so girl.

there is this photo....you see
of pretty much nothing...of
nowhere....at least....
nowhere i know...

the skies are blue, with
a cotton balling of
innoccuos clouds
it seems as tho the weather
would be pleasant there.

there is a gray-blue-rock
covered track, well road, that roughly disects the photo,
beginning right in the centre at the forfront
and then wending off
to the right behind a small hill.
the track would be wide enough for a small car
or cart
but is in the picture
devoid off traffic.

as is it's smaller,
companion walking path, terraced and to the left of the road.
cut about six foot below the road persay

to the right, a spindly tree
of indeterminate species
then, stretching off to the photo's edge,
green grasses, roughly, cropped low by machine
or beast.

to the left, once again below,
the walking path,
a swathe of green
and then, an expanse of water,
loch, lake, river,
i do not know,
but it is wide and slow.
there are no,
watercraft, no birds,
to be seen.

just water,  greenery,  
a spindly tree
and the two tracks,
leading to god knows where and coming from, behind
the lense.

but right now, the ambiguity
of destination, the lonliness
of the landscape are appealing, enthralling, even.

there is a dichotomy,
in the fecund greeness of the grass,
opposed to the, apperent,
barenness of the lake.
and in the disection of the pastoral scene, by man made road, there is disruption,

there is choice.
to, cant to one side,
or the other.
there is choice to, go forth into the unkown.
or to, retrace one steps
on the road behind.

it is a photo,
that while not
bucolic in nature,
is pleasant
that is well framed,

....that is the one...
you take when you
want to finish the roll of film,
or these days fill the memory card...

why it has me,
fascinated at present is ...
it is a photo of somewhere... that is not here...
it is a photo of somewhere...
where, the possibilties are new,untried...not impossible
.......where the grass
.......is greener...where the grass is greener...where the grass is.....

u c now? Grass is me. each glowing blade of it are my limbs R grass
grunting up to skyward professing such greeness and full of vital
light,
         it is so supple and it by lakes is me
         and by napes of rivers it is me on end
         it is my hair and it's electric in me
         singing some song majestic
         yet so quietly
i know it as i would know a lover(if i ever trod on my lover
who was softly cushioning each fall of my wiggling toes
with their strong little body)and it knows me because it
is me, i am the grass and i grow with the wind on me
and it is my friend(for the wind knows best the grass
(save for maybe the dirt(who is my wife(for she takes
my root deep into her and bears my seeds to the air))))

In that greeness of a young and an most awkward age,
It seemed my destiny to dwell alone in peace, in a place
Of which I could not dream myself being any fonder of.

And by the brook, is where I took, mine one and only book,
To read for hours, in a nook, 'neath a sycamore tree. A book
Which still I keep, tho rarely read, where lovers ponder love.

A place of emptiness yet so full of God's presence
A place with no character yet God's love is shown there
A place of loneliness, but gives peace
A dry place with a tree smiling its greeness, water still and grass struggling to breath.
With nothing around except for trees along the stream
A train passing now and again
With chrubs of hope that there is still life there.
This place was once devine
This place allows me to think clearly
With breeze against my skin as it gives me goose bumbs I think "what if".
What if things were different and i could see u whenever I want
What if while chilling in this emptiness we could feel the Almighty smile
What if you were mine to keep?
There is something about this place that is taking me to places unknown.
It drives me like the wheels of your car to worlds I've never been to.
I get there and enjoy being with you
A place of imagination
It goes wild as a wild hog in the wild.
I could hear our children laugh while we eat strawberries under that tree
A dog barking excitedly at their laughter
Flowers smiling at the sun for every new day
I did say that this place drives me wild like a wild hog
This place does not exist
This place opposes reality.
I love being in this place though
It makes me feel like I've still got it
It makes me feel like I'm worth it
This is a place of miracles
A place where a simple smile erases the pain off.
A place where my laugh is genuine
But then reality hits at the words "we need to go".
I then realise tht this is not my place
I then see that God is not smiling.