Tag: poem

Vivid Sky

Vivid Sky

why do i think it's
the edge of night?

      just before 
   the darkness
smothers colour

then darkness 
comes,
      and 
sticky eyelids
   stick shut
until morning.

why do i think it's
the edge of night?

      why not:
the edge of day?

or something
   else
   unusual?

      maybe we
should consider 
      mid-day 
and midnight.

      but nothing 
seems unusual 
   about either.

   maybe we can 
forget middles 
      and edges 
   and make it 
all about the sky.

      seahorses
in the clouds!

Black and White Valley

 some things 
 look so good 
 in colour, 

and sometimes 
greytones make 
 music forever 
in our thirsty souls.

 this land rose up,
millions of years ago.

 a glacial lake
 transformed
from solid to 
 cold water,

 and burst 
 its banks 

making a sudden
 river,

 rushing roaring
torrent nightmare

 all day long,
maybe a thousand
 years eroding

this sculpted
 river valley.

now we are 
 witness to 
the aftermath,

this sculpted
 landscape.






	


	



			
				


			

			
Bird Orchid 2
		
	

	

		

Bird Orchid 2

not in my garden,
but somewhere
else indeed.

could have grown
in jungle, 
underneath a
giant tree.


some things
come so easy;
some things
are so hard.

an orchid
has its secrets
its beauty is
not marred. 

a perfect, 
perfect beauty
is seldom 
ever seen;

when i saw 
this orchid
it was just 
like a dream


not in my garden,
but somewhere
else indeed.

could have grown
in jungle, 
underneath a
giant tree.





	


	



			
				


			

			
A Tree To Make Me Happy
		
	

	

		

here is a tree to
make me happy:

branches that 
do not meet my
expectations;

they all go their
own puzzling ways.

a pleasing chaos
reigns as branches
grow unpredictably,

following no known
patterns, growing
always beautiful.

shape and shade
encourage my
easy admiration.

(hot summer days
teach many meanings 
of oppression)

we should never
learn them all.









	


	



			
				


			

			
Kal Lake
		
	

	

		

Kal Lake

merging photos, 
makes panorama
visions like we never
saw before,

i look out at this view
i have seen every day,
and always it's seemed 
something new.

time closes in quickly,
as time seems 
to do at the end
of a long tiring day.

my time's coming soon, 
this view will be gone,
a time to just walk away
.
life brings us such views,
then makes us choose;
we turn to go 
forward each day.

	


	



			
				


			

			
Time Travel Addiction
		
	

	

		

Time Travel Addiction

they say she has a small 
time travel addiction.

i probably can say
that all of her travelling
will be only be one way.


it seems a long, 
long journey,
we travel 
night and day.

time won't stand still
and wait for us,  
we have to come along.


we sing of 
desperation,
but time won't 
hear our song.

we are all leaves
stuck in a stream,

with just one way to go,   
down to time's silent sea,

because a time is
coming when 
time will cease to be.





	


	



			
				


			

			
Bouquet 7
		
	

	

		

saturn's rings
are little things,

torn apart 
by too much 
gravity perhaps.

no levity would
help, i fear.

sometimes 
it is like 
that here.


love and laughter 
sometimes coincide.

and when they do, 
magic may happen.


stuff like love 
and floral bouquets
can be storied,

stories unto
themselves.

we dare not ask;
we do not really
want to know.


saturn's rings
are little things,

torn apart 
by too much 
gravity perhaps.













	


	



			
				


			

			
Red Deer River Valley
		
	

	

		

Red Deer River Valley

here was an ocean
an ancient 
shallow sea;

great creatures 
navigated there
before you and me.

archaic things
swam in sandy
bottomed shallows

sailors in ancient
places, where we'll
never go again.

buried bones
have turned
to stone

millions of years
went sliding past
it seems so long;
it goes so fast.

here are bones,
when fleshed 
and live,
swam by 
so long ago.

we see them
in museums,
learning little.