Poetry Blogs (children)

I walk with my little son
He would follow me to the edges of the galaxy
Just to tell me his story of his love for reality.

He waits for my return
Then tells me he misses me
With a smile, a cuddle and kiss that reminds me he’s here in this world.

He gives me tasks to do
While playing in the evening
Then I read him a story
Way past bedtime.

We walk in the morning
While he points out...

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Mini-humans converge
drawn but not defeated by routine.
So much colour,
movement,
noise -
so much future in one place
cannot be discreet.

Suddenly
I understand.
Quarts trapped in pint-pots!
Spirits simply too big
to fit still-growing bodies.
So much lifeforce
escaping -
shouting,
rough-and-tumble,
temper tantrums -
excess leaking from
unfinished containers.

Later, on the tram
I...

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Superstition

imagine 6 kids
walking hand in hand
two by two

four girls
two boys
behind Ma.

We sing out loud
'Step on a crack,
break your mother's back'.

We joy fully avoid
still hand in hand
the pavement cracks.

Ma turns and says
'You all shut up'
and we do.

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These two poems I think pair up well together.  The first written to celebrate the birth of our first grandchild five years ago, the second written last year after a visit and time spent with him and his two brothers.

Nathaniel's Villanelle

Now welcome into this world little one.

You know no-one, nothing yet,

Yet from Him who knows all you come.

Your father, your mother als...

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You ask if I believe in God...
How can I not?

To deny my Father
means I leave my existence
to some 30 year old predator
who impregnated a girl half his age
and left her to raise their child
in the wilderness, among wolves 
that feed on loneliness and despair.

Without my Father, I would never know
that after suffering comes deliverance,
pain leads to compassion,
forgiveness breaks b...

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Clubs, ace to king, prepare for a day of wicketness.

Yoga (downward dog) helps. Limbering ointment

promises more flex, less ache. If cards crease, it's

Off with their heads!

Diamonds are dispatched to capture

hedgehogs. They trek into the woods with hedgehog

horns and nets. Problem is, hedgehogs who've played 

croquet past years are not invited for rematch.

The mo...

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Translation of my Arabic Poem (“The Choice”) 

Who, in the World, chooses his birth? 
Who chooses his family and children? 
Who chooses his fate and country? 
Who chooses the time to go to heaven? 

But it is possible to choose our day 
To sincerely care about family and work 
This will be the first right step to our future 
To achieve our goals while we're alive 

Your name and countr...

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