We are led to tears
By our own exposures
Exploring our personal sufferings
Gives food for our thoughts
Sit in the warm sun
Sit in the cold snow
Sit with the breeze to your back
Sit with the light in your eyes
We are led to our smiles
By our very own discoveries
Witnessing our lives
Gives energy to everyone’s day
Sunday 21 October 2018
Saturday 20 October 2018
First Base
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
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
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
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