Category: Poetry

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Country of the Wandering Mind

My morning mind is lost in dreaming,
Wandering forests where the creeks are streaming,
Where the Wurundjeri Woi Wurrung people reside,
Across a sprawling ancient countryside,
Through forests up to Camels Hump, above the Geburrh ranges,
And back down to Ngannelong, or Hanging Rock to visiting strangers,
Where Kangaroo’s live in grassy fields, and their mobs all peacefully graze,
Along-side foreign livestock who eat away unphased,
By these original inhabitants who gracefully bound around,
While the laugh of Kookaburras, fill the valley floor with sound,
My mind wanders home again, across open farming lands,
Back to my own small town, where my tree filled sanctuary stands.

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A Whisper in the Dark

You can hear me in the depths of Winter,

You can hear me in the home of elders,

You can hear me by a baby’s cradle,

You will hear me when you are unable –

To take your final breath.

I am ever present, ever whispering,

For my name is death.

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The Daydreamer’s Gift

Today I sat on the bank of a cool forest stream,
And under lush green tree ferns, I began to dream,
That I lived in this forest wild and free,
And my home was the trunk of an ancient tree,
I spent the day searching the forest far and wide,
Returning home that night to comfortably hide,
And admire the jewelled treasures I’d discovered,
Then, the next morning when fully recovered,
I followed the stream right up to the mountain,
Where from its rocky edge a waterfall fountained,
After drinking its waters and healing my soul,
I read magical words from an old paper scroll,
I thanked the mountain for its bountiful gift,
Before sitting quietly to let my mind drift,
To get home I imagined that I’d shrunk down so small,
That I could float on a leaf, powered by the waterfall,
I was delivered home safe, gentle and true,
With a leaf for a boat and mountain stream as my crew,
When I opened my eyes to the real world once more,
I smiled seeing tiny footprints, and a leaf on the shore.
Forests have a special magic, and as this daydreamer knows best,
They’re a good place to put imagination to the test,
So, lock up my daydream in your mind like a jewel,
And may your trees grow tall, and your waters run cool.

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The Wheel of the Year

Hope shines into the heart of new days,
I’ll heal in nature, clearing both mind and airways,
With eyes closed I can see the illuminated leaves,
In our own sunlit garden, on its magical trees,
With the passing of Beltane, happier days seem ahead,
Far from Queen Winter, the monarch of the dead,
Warmth brings connection, and opportunity to grow,
It’s a time to return to the me that I used to know,
I must shake the bitterness that Yule has put in me,
And start living better, the way that I should be.
There’s a lot of work to do on my body and my mind,
I’ve abused both, so it’s time to heal, repair and unwind,
As I’ve grown older there’s one thing that is clear,
All things can change, except the turning wheel of the year.

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I hear my train coming

I’ve tried every day, but I’m cut to the quick,
Everything angers me making me sick,
With worry, with hurt, or with such sorrow,
For a world with no future, I’ve no hope in tomorrow,
I’ve had enough, and my own time draws near,
Soon it’s time to say goodbye to all I hold dear,
Although I love them, I just can’t stay anymore,
Every day I feel worthless, like I’m cast on the floor,
Of life’s editor suite, who doesn’t think I’m a good fit,
Removing my worth and my life with one simple snip,
All the love I have given, and the little I have taken,
Leaves me here with no ticket, stranded on death’s train station.
With this one-way ticket, there is no coming back,
For my journey is over, and this train is out of track.

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A Thousand Dreams

A thousand memories, and a thousand dreams,
Hurtful ingredients adding sound to my silent screams,
Too long buttoned up, and for too long held down,
Battling imagined usurpers hunting my imaginary crown,
I fight alone through wastelands left barren,
Used and ridiculed, my mind is starved, left to famine,
After those who sort something from me all drank their fill,
I remain here in the dark, fighting apparitions still.

To save my heart and mind, I must be completely withdrawn,
I seek peace as I grow older, used, battered, and travelworn,
I lick my wounds, and I try to heal deep scars left within,
Those unseen by the world, not those left on my skin.
All these wounds that I speak of have come at a cost,
They are not badges of honour, but evidence of those lost,
Too many friends and loved ones have now left this place,
Leaving me unequipped to cope with the world that I face.

You read this now in a time of turmoil and of inner unbalance,
Where I drink poison to assist paying unknown psychological penance,
Filling my need to be numb, to fake happiness, to no longer care,
A thousand emotions, from a thousand thoughts I can’t share,
About things I can’t change, nor do I want to bring back,
From the lifetime of sadness, I’ve carried on my back.

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Starfall

Falling from the distant stars through time itself,

Into the deep cool waters of an ancient land,

Lost to all memory, a forgotten numen beneath the waves,

As eons pass the subsiding waters form a vast wasteland,

Miles of desolate emptiness, and beneath these ancient sands of time,

The star fallen sleeps, imprisoned within the dark restraints of dreams.

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Panic in the Dark

A Darkness Comes

A second darkness falls with the night,
Slipping behind my eyes from the afternoon shadows,
A thick, greasy film that stinks of fear and sorrow,
It’s a foreign invader, the embodiment of sickness,
Although symptoms are common, at night they feel extreme.
It comes when I’m alone, painting fearful images.
No matter how I try to cope, the torment continues,
It enters my sleep, and pours in thick black nightmares,
Voices tell me I’m dying, whispering sweetly in my ear,
A pain here, a cough there, it has me in its icy grip,
The only thing that combats it is company, distraction, or morning.
Tomorrow it will regroup and return with a vengeance,
For another night of torment, grief, and torture,
My mind can’t rest, the darkness feeds on fear,
I’m not alone, millions of people greet this stranger nightly,
But that doesn’t help me when I’m struggling to sleep,
Where it pokes, prods, and toys with my emotions,
The morning light banishes the beast, forcing it to flee,
Until we battle again tomorrow night, for control of me.

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Ode to Springtime

I’m thankful for the springtime,

And how it brings our garden to life,

The morning smell of eucalyptus trees,

Its dewy mornings and its warmer nights,

Afternoon sun showers on freshly cut lawns,

The colour of the flowers makes me love it even more,

The songs of busy insects and the brightly coloured birds,

The sounds of springtime in the country are the best I’ve ever heard.

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Below the Queen Tree

I cross my front garden to my favourite tree and sit down,

She has a thick leaning trunk and a beautiful green crown,

Soft grass at her base, welcomes my feet like an old friend,

The queen tree is the kind, a younger me would often ascend,

I’d climb to the top and feel the sun on my smiling face,

Above the world in her castle, my secret green hiding place,

Times have changed, and now I must admire her from below,

My bare feet in the grass, and the greying face of an old fellow.