Poetry Blogs (2019, Wild)
“To do or not to do”, her daily instruction
I should always obey, to avoid reaction
She believes I'll remain in a weak construction
Wants to be retained in her falling section
Eyes, ears and tongue, three sources to act
Depending on brain, to judge it in the heart
She is herself leader, no love in her chart
“Practical in reality”, She said. This is a fact
Saturday 2nd February 2019 2:29 pm
You would think that I would have a handle on this Based as I am in no space, with no story but the road But those who let loose in raves surrounded for miles By pavements, they think that they can achieve That state, there, in Clubs in the basements of high-rises. Maybe they know more about this than the lion in the zoo. These faces come and go, family is far flung across The...
Wednesday 2nd May 2018 9:33 pm
Captivity is a cruel mistress for a wild heart
To tame the beast destroys her
Let her be fierce and teach you her knowledge of nature
Let the freedom of her naked soul wash over you
Dance with her by the moonlight and bask in her unbridled joy
For no one can own this beautiful creature
So savor the moments she shares
Enjoy the lessons of this licentious being and always sa...
Thursday 8th March 2018 7:17 pm
Weeds snake through the cracks
cramped stilled leaves beside
clot a crusted creek.
The silt turns past a corner
reflected in a straining noon.
Branches overhanging wilt
as in idle hours the flock come
scrutinise the work made waste,
and retrieve far flung
logs and stones, whittled fare
for time now dried.
And the passenger that crushed
dried leaf in ha...
Monday 21st September 2015 11:20 pm
I heard you howl
at the moon.
I believe it was
sometimes in June.
You sounded lonely
You sounded sad.
Was I scared?
No I was mad.
You are being
why are you
so very hated?
Tuesday 4th March 2014 7:10 pm
In the wild, the bonsai is an amazing sight and a moving lesson from nature. It depicts the wonder of a resilient soul.
A fond gaze
rests upon hope
of pliant supplication
stunted and weathered
each scar a witness
to fate's coarseness
its scourge did not prevail
A bent torso
flowing in the breeze
over sheer drops and crags
the dour might as old as time
Thursday 21st April 2011 12:07 pm