Wednesday, August 20, 2014

The coming storm



The coming storm
hides the sun
though it  may still shine
in the beyond.

Mistrust becomes argument;
become rows
become skirmishes
become battles
becomes war,
as the clouds
of disillusionment
build their battlements
in the streets of Fergusson.

Looted of the high ground,
plundered and raped
by stormtrooping opportunists,
the abandoned souls,
hands in the air
shout ‘don’t shoot’
for we are the poor.

We are the poor,
we are not black,
we are the colourless poor
with no axes to grind.

It begins



The first flames of sunset
toast the clouds
with red wine.

Fiery breath
will convey
the darkness
as evening
reclaims the sky
for the coming of night.

And, as if burnt away,
today becomes ashes
saluted in the passing.

Friday, August 08, 2014

I will sing you a love song

a poem for our 44th  anniversary - Married 8th August 1970 
 

 
I will sing you
a love song
with my eyes
gently watering
the dance of melancholy.

I will sing you a love song
with my eyes;
each flicker a motif
each glance a melody.
Then I will gaze you
into a pastorale
and stare you a symphony.

Until the crescendo movement
when our eyes meet,
I will sing you
a love song
with my eyes. 


Monday, August 04, 2014

4th August centenary



dried up poppy heads
17 million deaths
remembrance of war

and we remember
the drying family trees
not lessons of war

there are other seeds
some legacy of peace
some legacy without