My heart feels lost at sea, Adrift, I am directionless, Home feels like a distant memory, I long for solid ground underfoot, I’m on an ocean vast and featureless, I hear the sound of distant ships, Focus seems impossible, My head swims with thought, Waterlogged and weary, I drift on, I fight fatigue as night falls again, I see no lights on the horizon, No welcoming lanterns on the beach, How long must I fight this current? The night is cold and dark, Not a spec of light shows, Until the dawn of a new day, Tears and ocean water are as one, I drift on, keeping my head above water, Until the day my heart makes landfall.
Two rivers born of a sister star, Are parted by green mountains far, At great distances, they remain aware, Timeless is the love, that they both share.
The rivers will still flow, after both stars fall, An endless journey through time they’ll crawl, Finding peace in their waters ebb and flow. For time means nothing to the bond they know.
Although the rivers meet and part too soon, They are connected by the very same moon, Up in night skies, where sister stars shone, They are two rivers divided, but they flow as one.
They will meet again, when their journeys are done, Leaving behind creeks and streams, that forever will run, Into the ocean’s great mouth, where all good rivers flow, Together finding peace, beneath the moon’s nightly glow.
- For my cousin Kristy
Two hearts bound by a family tie, Each one a cousin, that lands divide, Tho farewelled tears fall in silent times, Our eyes remain young, as old age chimes.
We’ve spent the last few weeks now, busily preparing, So much to do, before reaching this feast we’re sharing, We’ve renovated, tidied, chopped, sliced, and ran to and fro, But we have all the work done now, so it’s on with the show, It’s early, just the cockatoos outside share this bright morning, Screeching at the sun, it’s the afternoon heat they are forewarning, An Australian Christmas is hot, some years it can be quite obscene, Yet a fat bearded man in a red winter coat, can always be seen, Kids still sing of sleigh bells, some families eat a hot roasted meal, But thankfully culture is changing, and we’re finding our own deal, For some, there’s backyard cricket, barbecues, salads, and cold beers to plunder, Because there is no freezing Christmas, when you are living down under, Our family will arrive later this morning, and some final cooking will be done, Before we sit and eat, chat, and then listen to the air conditioner’s hum, No fat bearded men in red winter coats are on display here, But there will be plenty of food, creamy desserts, and some lively cheer. Although our decorations are black, the lights will still be shining bright, When, with full bellies, we surrender another Christmas to the night.
To be a river in the next life would be, Busy, refreshing, timeless and free, The water rushing, swirling, passing all by, While on my banks, beautiful trees sway, Colourful birds screeching their calls, Fly up and far away. My banks cut through bright green fields, I can see busy machinery and people cutting wheat, While nearby sheep and cattle meander down to drink and wet their feet, I’d be sorry to leave behind the quiet countryside, Further along my banks I’d find a hectic busy loud city, Finally, here I am, the end of the river mouth to pour into the sea, Timeless this river, never an end, Another new life for me.
This poem was written by my late mother, Christine Elaine Verkys, while she fruitlessly battled a terminal disease to stay with us. She was the very lifeforce of our family, and after she passed, sadly so did everything else. Personally, there have been few happy days since. Me a River features on her memorial stone, which stays with me to this day.
A dreamer’s eyes open, suddenly and wide, accompanied by a gasp for air, It feels as though the sleeper has been brought to life for the first time, The confusion passes, and they acclimatise to this new red sunlit world, Standing high on a dune, the dreamer looks down on a black city lit by red lights, This world of exploration is dusty and dim, as the dreamer enters the city limits, It seems lifeless, countless tall glossy black metallic buildings stretch upwards, Every dark doorway is scarlet lit, there is no sound here other than the wind, No birds sing, no sounds of human commotion, just an empty silent expanse, The dreamer stands in the middle of a sand-covered road, paved with dark stone, The wind whips sand into the sleeper’s eyes, as the sound of a low deep hum rumbles, From the bowels of the earth, the dreamer feels the vibration through the road, And as the sun begins to fall, the darkness brings sinister tidings, From the black alcoves along the street, countless glowing red eyes appear, The glowing eyes follow the dreamer while they cautiously walk among the black towers, Again, the deep horn rumbles with a hum, and the sound of 1000 whispering voices begins, The whispers are almost deafening, it feels as though they are inside the dreamer’s head, With ears covered, the run begins, a left turn here, a right turn there, and into a side street, Black metal streetlights line the roadway, all glowing with a vivid red glow, In the dusty darkness at the end of the street, crooked black creatures with red eyes spill out, They cut off any escape, they rapidly approach, driving the dreamer back towards the dunes, The pavement soon becomes deep sand and a steep incline, where feet sink and slip, The creatures are still in pursuit, the whispering intensifies as the dreamer struggles to move, Coal black arms burst from the sand clutching the dreamer’s clothing and limbs, Many unnaturally long arms clasp and pull the dreamer face down onto the dune side, The sand below the dune begins to give way revealing an enormous gaping mouth, Tentacle-like arms begin to drag the dreamer into the mouth from where they originate, In an instant the dreamer is devoured, the mighty jaws snap shut before sinking into the sand, Silence falls, the city empties, the red sun rises, and on the top of the dune, A new pair of eyes open, suddenly and wide, accompanied by a new dreamer’s gasp for air
Thunder rolls through late-night air, The power is cut, a home is left in darkness, It simmers in the residual heat of the day, A weary sleeper tosses and turns, Lightning flashes through an open window, Rain pours down, as the wind shakes the trees, Tonight will not be restful, Dogs bark madly, they echo in the distance, As thunder cracks and churns above, Sweat beads on the forehead, restlessness, Sudden silence, as the rain and wind cease, The lightning and thunder disperse instantly, All dogs are hushed, but the heat remains, Within the restless sleeper, the nightmares endure.
Dan Verkys 