A Bully’s Work

Silence speaks.

Like the thunder in the rain.

Inside you weep.

Trauma holds on.

While the bully looks beyond.

Deep down you know.

There is no remorse.

We awake to the promise.

The memories to forget.

Yet lingering beyond.

The truth speaks.

It is true.

We will find hope.

We know not now.

What holds us back.

Some Poetry and a Picture

The Sea and Me

Clouds run by.

Overhead.

Inside the rain patters.

The fire flumes.

A diesel flame.

At rest, a rattle awakens.

The shift in tides.

Our anchor holds.

Alongside, the ocean.

Occasionally a bird.

Perhaps geese.

A ting in the night.

The largest raindrop.

In the morning, I awake.

It's the sea and me.

Paused

The purpose feels broken.

No dance left in the fire.

Sparks all gone.

Dreams seem to have faded.

Somewhere there is promise.

Golden hopes.

Around the bend?

Perhaps.

There is no where to hide.

The sun speaks.

 Another day.

Time to press play.

Time Lapsed Love

Real or not.

Taken.

Then fallen.

Lost to dismay.

A cloud hovers.

Bright, yet dark.

Masked by fear.

Is there another?

He tells me yes.

My heart dangles.

We speak.

Fond memories.

Fun.

Laughter.

Dancing.

Music.

Coincidences.

Is it really true?

I am another.

More mind misperceptions.

Misunderstandings.

The sun rises.

The sun sets.

Bewildered concentration.

Grace speaks.

It is a false love.

Buying Time

Moments may mean drifting apart.

A soul might sing a different song.

Given the gap of a day, a week or a month.

We rumble on.

Not always thinking the same.

Maybe, wallowing away.

Not knowing.

Is it day or night?

When tomorrow comes.

What happened to yesterday?

We take what we have.

When it’s there.

What we’ve got.

Death in Peace

The spirit leaves.

Yet outside the wind blows.

We are left behind.

With the silhouette of the trees.

From the moon to darkness.

Shallow grace.

Eradicated fears.

The desire to succeed.

First to start.

Last to finish

Away from home.

It does not matter.

In loving memory of Roger S.

11*11*11

Writing Destiny

Imagine.

Of course you can.

Then you know.

What is.

The why, the who. 

And then the what.

Free-will.

Take it.

Elevated risks.

Spoken harmony.

Contemplate.

Short lived.

Delight for the now.

It is the knowing.

Of what should be.

The Song of Rain

Puddle drops.

The drip.

Leaves cradle the bath.

The grass glistens.

Windshield wipers swipe.

Gumboots pave the way.

Ahead an umbrella.

Droplets pounce here and there.

Inside we huddle.

Dry and warm.

Silent Thoughts

Rain drops spatter dreams.

Like the colours in a rainbow.

The movement of the wind in a tree.

Meanders whispers through fallen leaves.

Hastened by darkness.

The day follows the night.

Like the ebb and flood of the tides.

A moon awakes.

The big dipper shines.

Soon the mind sleeps.

A Clean Home

A cleanse of the soul.

The mistakes were made.

Delays piled up.

Time is due.

When the wipes are done.

Clutter is removed.

The garbage goes.

The dust is gone.

It’s a new start.

To another day.

Something special.

A clean home.

Self-Directed Chaos

When does it end?

The course can change.

Revert to darkness.

Yielded by science.

Activated by the Universe.

Encased in what is.

Tempted by fate.

Life lingers on.

Sallow in the distance.

The mind. The soul.

Ponders reflection.

I ask.

What now?

Transition Dreams

Dare to believe.

The change is good.

Even though you’ve been stopped for a while.

Reflect. Resolve.

Count the ways.

You know better days.

Tomorrow starts now.

Anticipate the new.

Delay the old.

Contemplate the time.

Awaken the joy.

Remind the sorrow.

Time to go.

Visions once had.

Are fresh today.

Novel temptations.

What you want.

Who you are.

It is real.

Push yourself.

Allow.

Transition dreams.