This is a seat
Where to be
Is to belong
This is the track
To the storytelling cabin
Where I might sign up
I could learn to understand
Then explain, just how
This magical place came to be
That may be
A most worthwhile undertaking
But one I could work on, at home
Saturday, 20 October 2018
Friday, 19 October 2018
Give What You Can
We are drawing to a close
Although the last session
Ends late tomorrow morning
But this is our final Family Dharma
Where deep issues are brought
To the surface, to be opened out
Today I will tell of a letter
Which I wrote to my father
More than thirty years ago
It is for Karen
Who is thinking, maybe
Of writing to her father
Although the last session
Ends late tomorrow morning
But this is our final Family Dharma
Where deep issues are brought
To the surface, to be opened out
Today I will tell of a letter
Which I wrote to my father
More than thirty years ago
It is for Karen
Who is thinking, maybe
Of writing to her father
Thursday, 18 October 2018
Pit Stops
Nothing in life
Needs to move too too quickly
Even the Formula One
Grand Prix races
Are only once a fortnight
So the cars could, in fact
Go much more slowly
I did walk
To the farm shop, and back
Thinking of a few poems
Along the footpaths and the tracks
But I did not settle for long
And that impatience
Tinges the corners of these words
Needs to move too too quickly
Even the Formula One
Grand Prix races
Are only once a fortnight
So the cars could, in fact
Go much more slowly
I did walk
To the farm shop, and back
Thinking of a few poems
Along the footpaths and the tracks
But I did not settle for long
And that impatience
Tinges the corners of these words
Wednesday, 17 October 2018
Tobacco Road
Thirteen years ago
I smoked a pack of Camel Light
Almost every day; they were
My defence mechanism
Nowadays I write poems
With about the same frequency
And, or so I begin to believe
For much the same purpose
They prevent intrusion
They facilitate introduction
Could have been the death of me
Could be the death of me
I smoked a pack of Camel Light
Almost every day; they were
My defence mechanism
Nowadays I write poems
With about the same frequency
And, or so I begin to believe
For much the same purpose
They prevent intrusion
They facilitate introduction
Could have been the death of me
Could be the death of me
Tuesday, 16 October 2018
Deep South
The father, after a little persuasion
Bought his son, the waiter
A latte coffee to drink outside
Meanwhile the American guy
Buys another shot of expresso
And sits down beside me
We talk of money
Doctors, and lawyers, o yes
And we talk about boxers
All of these types you see
Have to have a ruthless streak
They are not always to be trusted
Bought his son, the waiter
A latte coffee to drink outside
Meanwhile the American guy
Buys another shot of expresso
And sits down beside me
We talk of money
Doctors, and lawyers, o yes
And we talk about boxers
All of these types you see
Have to have a ruthless streak
They are not always to be trusted
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