Poetry Portfolio
Attraction
From afar the eye instantly gazes,
At a first glimpse of sensual lines, and smooth transitions.
There is a distinct eloquence in the way the body is held,
Whilst transporting the soul in spatial continuum.
A prolonged natural curiosity to observe intermittently,
Within the realm of social grace and appropriateness.
Many questions rage uncontrollably with internal pounding.
In unison with trembling flesh and escalating adrenalin.
Hypnotised by glimmering windows of compassion,
In contrasted light and dark.
The voice is calm and confident,
Uniting with animated body language and gesture.
What will be presented with each new day?
Amongst golden rays of hope and twinkling stars?
From deep within a burning sensation that ebbs and flows,
With voices that pound and cloud the mind.
Interaction is the key that unlocks trust,
Containing all the wonders ready to be harnessed.
The urge transcends into action,
Resulting in an equal or opposite reaction.
Easing the mind, body and soul.
Awakening
As I wake your touch embraces my essence and being.
Years of loneliness and solitude amongst cold winters does not convince,
Nor does the need for comfort.
There is need and there is want.
Your presence is like the sun,
With its warm caress that gently soothes.
Warming not only my flesh,
But my mind and consciousness.
My want is proportional to your feelings and emotions.
We are on the same page,
But the page is read at different speeds.
Like every word that is read and felt,
It is experienced from different backgrounds and perceptions.
A book, a piece of music, comedy, experiences,
All give awareness of who you are.
One may not enquire to what moves your heart,
As words alone cannot solve this.
In the immediacy of a newly formed apparent romance,
It is evident you are a kind affectionate and caring soul.
The look in your eyes for that brief moment when we embrace,
Warms my very essence of being in place and time.
I see you, the real you,
And you see me through the lens of a stranger.
You warm the cockles of my heart,
That suddenly tightens and quickens with pure adrenaline.
Butterflies do not refer to anxiety alone,
But perceived love from many interpretations of what love is.
I love the Earth, the animals,
And I may indeed love thy neighbour devoid of a peace from within.
Peace often comes when the shackles of the past are released in time.
Meaningful love may be revealed,
Within unspecified moments of this conjured construct.
Beyond the constraints of this manifestation,
There are little moments within moments.
Where time appears to stand still,
like the stillness of a leaf that dares not to flutter.
The mind is aligned with the feeling of joy,
Whilst trembling at ones attempt to interpret the response.
There is music that is created by our embrace,
From within the imaginative mind.
I feel your touch, your breath,
And every movement you make.
Your thoughts are those I wish to hear,
During your silence and extended gaze.
Not only your affirmations,
But what ails you is my concern.
Our differences are our strength,
As is our tastes that make the journey unique.
Compromise is seen as a sign of love,
That helps to guide one through rough storms.
Like a ship that depends on the lighthouse and its keeper,
There is hope beyond the metaphor.
Of two ships that pass in the night,
And communicate with the flashing of lights.
It takes two to tango as these steps are shared,
As there remains an awkwardness in perceived humour.
This humour however is not real or genuine,
But a defence mechanism to ease bitterness.
Like the 'Tango' and learnt mechanical steps,
There are new steps that emerge.
Based on a shared embodied existence,
Of unplanned experiences, spontaneity and increasing flexibility beyond years of routine.
Bear
Upon first approach from afar the scent was evident.
The groaning and ritualistic nature of a tired soul,
Surrounded by the solidity of cold grey weathered concrete.
What poor creature resides behind such a structure?
Of entombment, restricted routine and prying eyes,
The heart feels heavy and the mind sinks whilst encapsulated with empathy.
Without even the clarification of what lies beyond!
It is no longer the determination of the survival of the fittest!
Human intention and conservation has outweighed the suffering.
Was this creature originally roaming free or born into a world of captivity?
From within the depths of the concreted shelter,
A brown Kodiak bear emerges from within the depths.
With a lethargic, limping and hesitant intermittent gait,
And cathartic roar searching for placed food items.
Mesmerized at its conviction to continue its search,
Various emotions and feelings fluctuate whilst perceiving.
Reasoning is lost within the appearance of the spectacle,
Whilst wonderment resides alongside declining fragility.
Beyond Bombo Quarry
There is a rush to greet the sunset,
That had begun to fade with contrasting silhouettes.
Amongst the salty fresh smell of the ocean,
Heightened senses dance with the swaying foliage at the edge of cliffs.
The landscape seems somewhat alien yet welcoming,
Whilst gazing upon and beyond the grey rock formations.
Japanese tourists face backwards,
To briefly integrate themselves into the sublime with ‘selfy’ stick and phone.
Is this what nature has become to signify?
Simply to glorify oneself within the realm of Gods creation?
What has become of pure embodied sensibility?
There is a necessity to sit and ponder,
Feeling the light pass over this strange curiosity.
Until there is only the sound of crashing waves,
Greeted by returning gulls that that take shelter amongst the moonlight.
Beyond the Lismore Show
People of all ages gather near ‘The Heart’ for the spectacle.
Standing united intently gaze at the bucked bull rider.
Various signs erected in plain sight.
‘Don’t frack our water’ and ‘water is life’.
How is it that economics is put before community health?
Hefty fines apply to others for environmental strife.
Dollars flash in the forefront of their lobes.
How is it ethical to poison our water supply?
When is enough, enough!
Water is our lifeline in the absence of desalination plant.
Children pound the pavement with conviction.
A commitment and insight for The Northern Rivers.
Ingrained environmental ideologies of adolescence flood the mind,
Whilst an idle protester stands erect with yellow sign.
The Lismore Show is a weekend of celebration for most.
Our minds are temporarily detached,
To reside with the land, sky, and of the spectacle.
Drawn in the direction of music caressed by the wind,
Hypnotised by the verse of Banjo Paterson.
Amongst the smell of beer, manure and corn dog,
Denis ‘Dingo’ Dryden performs his original solo bush ballads.
The mind, body and soul is encapsulated,
Beyond the previous days of CSG rallies, and discontentment.
Byron Bay Emotions
Emotions erupt from the very thought of ‘Byron’,
That stem from years of youthful thought and folly.
The alcohol fuelled nights, bright lights, bands and backpackers,
Fill the streets like ants on a familiar track.
They come and they go amongst locals whom complain,
Of displaced glass, lack of parking and excessive nightly rant.
Amongst the hustle and bustle of the watering holes,
Soft yellowish sands and inviting fresh spray.
The realisation that one is temporarily free.
Choosing ones own destiny with no physical shackles.
The day has become my saviour amongst the pinks and blues,
Easing and soothing all negativities that swirl with the whispering white wash.
On the radio a man has found peace by living on the beach.
Sold all possessions and seeks the path to enlightenment.
Happiness comes to those that listen to their souls.
Whatever makes you happy when skies are grey….
Searching to explore previously unfamiliar earth, water and sky.
For something new that bewilders and excites the senses.
Clambering through brush and goat trails along steep cliffs,
In an attempt to find a patch of peace and natural beauty.
Away from the hustle and bustle and table top dancing,
Drifting smells of coffee, pork and cluttering dishes.
An overload of the senses,
Amongst animalistic chants and birthday wishes.
The world of suburbia has dissipated amongst Byron Bay emotions,
Whilst golden rays dance on the crest of waves.
The constancy of breath and salty fresh air become my potion,
The light unites with spray and floating hawk,
Whilst imprinting an image for future interpretation.
I now see why there is such talk,
Amongst smooth sand and steady elation.
Calm and Collected
Graceful beings appear out of the blue,
Within the view of golden sands and smoke filled air.
There is a distinct habitual calmness and ritual,
As if obsessed by the relatedness of the view.
Deep in contemplation and restricted movement
This kookaburra bathes in evening glow.
Of restricted, glistening sunshine wavering amongst long green pine needles.
Moments of solitude, and easing breeze are indeed familiar,
For this robust and distinguished native.
Perhaps guarding its domain amongst snapping noisy minors that irritate,
With great concern, in contrast to slightly raised white feathery crown.
Signifying a non-contest and confidence of superior brawn.
Indeed a pathetic attempt to dislocate the North-facing gaze!
A sudden comical laughter,
That chants and mocks all those in sight.
Not to the delight of parakeets and dwarfed territorial competitors.
Across the well tree lined descent, swoops the bride in nature.
Perched slightly apart without the urge to unite flesh.
A common bond that needs no testing and clarification.
Suddenly as they had appeared within the depleting wavering rays,
That radiate amongst glistening green shivering leaves.
Disbelief at such a return to proximity.
Amongst human presence, and the rejection of the salmon offering.
With an upward thrust and grand leap from silvery rail.
Darting through openings of contrasting greens and browns,
Into the glory of the sunset and blundering violet and whitened clouds.
Moments like this make me proud,
To be amongst these unique creatures of night and day.
One can only wonder about their gaze and meditative state,
That elates my soul.
A reminder to take an appreciative breathe within this life,
For such a spectacle to reveal.
Choices
Sometimes the best path is not one at all,
As there is no yellow brick road.
No destination one can conjure,
Amongst the unpredictability of life.
Some are exhilarated whilst walking,
On an unbeaten path of pure experience.
Within the wilderness of spontaneity,
New experiences and unbridled beginnings.
We are conditioned by the system,
That forces us to align with plans of security.
Fears arise as a result of entering new waters,
That were not originally part of that grand plan.
Sometimes risks are worth taking,
And like a path through a forest that disappears to the beach,
We merely see footprints that disappear with the rising of the new tide.
A new day has begun.
New beginnings, friends, aspirations, new horizons.
Desires
Amongst the labyrinth of earthly desires,
It seems tonight that we will rejoice.
A loneliness is still embedded,
With sensations and thoughts of lost opportunities.
At this time of feeling true,
With shortcomings in mind amongst belligerent blue.
What shall be done with time?
Stuck in a mould that restricts a momentous cue.
When shall this overarching numbness cease to chime?
The great grandfather clock signals,
As sharp edged internal youth join forces.
Left, right, left advances,
From bellowing subconscious.
Take a chance, and do what thou wish,
Whilst following dreams and ambitions.
Shall inner desires become clear,
Free as a wedge tailed eagle.
Burning desires from deep within,
No hidden truths, no inner secrets.
Bodily warmth radiates from deep within internal chambers.
Don't just talk about it!
Take that first step,
Slow at first, then with ease.
Directions
From dust we rise,
Like dust we may drift.
Thence settle,
Until the next wind blows.
The wind may be soft,
With gentle intentions.
But the day will come,
When gale is overpowered
By a stronger entity.
Must we tread on thin ice?
Be weary of mother natures,
Beauty and destruction?
Is it the survival of the fittest?
Or does brain conquer brawn?
We must learn to adapt.
Be ready, plan ahead and incorporate buffers.
Can innocence prevail?
Like dust we may drift
Thence settle,
Until the next wind blows.
The wind may be soft,
With gentle intentions.
But the day will come,
When gale is overpowered
By a stronger entity.
Must we always have our guard up?
Like that of the elk, with radar ears.
Sentries posted from all directions.
The young play yet practice for a day of reckoning.
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
In nature, great variances collide.
Interactions may be noble; peaceful; Symbiotic; beneficial; detrimental.
The mind wanders,
Eyes burn with misconception.
Hands lift slowly but soundly.
Squelching eyelids in a half rise and fall.
Cold grays cast shadows on plains of vast variances.
Is it true in all cases great and small?
That rest is a state of necessity?
The breath of nature may be steady along with her beauty.
But she has to rest like that of flesh.
White blurred feathers hesitate and hypnotically unite with the new day.
Cradled and nurtured to a resting place unknown.
High Country
Swirling thoughts gather momentum,
Of majesty, beauty and sweeping plains.
The highland rugged ranges reveal,
An array of Lichen, pigmy possum,
And intricate pale yellow, furry wildflowers.
There is an urge to gather a sample,
That is instantly self-denied.
Beyond the bounds of the law,
To cherish forever the uniqueness and majesty of adaptation.
Devoid of inevitable decline and dried keepsake,
Remains absent from the notion of ‘cabinet of curiosity’.
Cold thinned, fluctuating air numbs the nose and ear,
Nearby, whistling gale and descending anguished famished crow.
The smell of distant patches of rain,
Waft as the head rises with deepened inhalation.
Hypnotically directed downwards,
Beyond rugged ridges and layered pale blue sky.
What beautiful creatures lay beyond the chilled adapted shrubs?
Beyond the vastness of the descent through swirling contrasting clouds.
The journey in this life will be rewarding when the simplest forms,
Are looked upon as an art form in their own right.
It is this engagement with ecosystems that encapsulates the soul,
Revealing a ‘sense of place’ that leads to an everlasting sensation.
There is a thirst for the knowledge,
Within the complexities of places that affect other spaces.
Swirling thoughts gather momentum,
Of majesty, beauty and sweeping plains.
The highland rugged ranges reveal,
An array of Lichen, pigmy possum, and pale yellow furry wildflower.
The Australian landscape is vastly contrasting,
A country of extremes that supports life and so suddenly takes it away.
Imprints
An Imprint in a day of minute imprints.
It is a brief impression in the sands of time.
As happiness rises and subsides,
So does the cyclical exterior nature of Oceans of entirety.
Uneasy oceans move with hot and cold intentions.
El Nino will inevitably cause variations in weather across the globe.
Human Kind alters the oceans of displeasure.
Here we see moments of darkness and grief,
Whilst on the flip side, we see beauty and majestic symbiosis.
The oceans reveal humanistic results.
The tear, a single drop, that eases with brief revealance.
A stream,
A body of water,
A drifting,
Changing,
Ulterior demise.
Lifelong Declaration
Age shall not weary the spirit and support,
From loyal followers and participants.
Evolving from little financial reward,
Amongst tears, blood and sweat.
Stems love for the game of cricket.
Youthful eagerness inspired by the ‘greats’,
Of the past and present.
Muffled sounds penetrate the womb.
A sudden rush of adrenalin,
In unison with rigid arm,
And pointed finger.
From local hotels to shanty,
People from all walks of life,
Chant for their dearly beloved.
Fluttering voices can be heard from
Beyond the physical constraint,
Of technologically advanced, and humble grounds.
Worn armchairs signify time worth spent,
Not only amongst ‘The Boys’ and loved ones.
But within the hypnotic serenity of ones own surrounds.
Names come and go,
But the spirit of the game lives on.
From generation to generation,
Rules agreed upon for varying social settings.
Taped tennis balls and ‘six stitchers’
Swing amongst golden sands, dusty streets, buffalo,
And sun scorched Earth.
From Delhi to Sydney,
Bright eyed youth play and practice,
For a possibility of inclusion,
Within the ‘spectacle’?
Morning Song
The soothing sound of the melodious ‘chatterer’
Penetrates the coldness of the pane.
Disturbs the restlessness of slumber,
And unsettling nightly dream.
The wavering yellow glow of sunlight,
Penetrates absorbent warming green Melaleuca.
Passing through still restricted white silk,
In an attempt to awaken for the daily ritual.
Nature invites the soul to rejoice in song,
For the blessing of life giving warmth.
Why is it that birds sing in the morning?
Do they simply respond out of happiness for this glorious sun drenched day?
Its competitor has spurred the Butcherbird on.
Responding with Shrilled short sweet tones,
That echoes amongst the valley.
We sleep, we wake, we sing, and we celebrate together.
Blessed to witness the majesty and beauty,
Before our final exhalation.
The body screams with thirst,
And disturbs the serenity of the moment.
Urging to once again be replenished for the new day ahead,
Amongst the serenity and eminence of the old growth rainforests and lush green hills.
Mother Earth
Earth mother is united with all,
Creature’s great and small.
The divine mother looks over
The mountains that are our bosom.
With thirst we must suckle from grey sky.
Tricking through hands
Shall sprout above barren promising land.
From deep within nurturing dark richness,
Lay seeds that wait for an ideal situation.
We also wait with emotional and physical constraints.
For that moment where our thirst and hunger are quenched.
Some choose to lay dormant,
When conditions are plentiful.
Australian seedpods are opened in extreme temperatures.
New life arises from trees that have suffered the wrath of fire.
Through evolution they have been able to adapt,
To a variety of conditions.
Each species of plant life unique,
Are able to overcome harsh situations.
So must we overcome the hurt in our past.
Our wounds must be licked and healed
Yet there will always be scarring deep within.
Like that of a felled tree.
We see the rings of distress and displeasure.
Only if we let complications be free to settle,
Will richness be gently accepted.
Fossils may be uncovered,
Brushed ever so delicately.
Analyzed from all perceptions,
Into a previous existence,
With varying directions.
Would you rather have a bone?
Or the fresh fruits of life?
Let the skin be discarded,
To reveal delightful rewards.
Peering Through The Mist
There is an extreme uncertainty,
As if the mist has thickened.
Only seeing what is directly in front.
The mood has slowly changed,
As does the essence of time.
Always a temptation to peer beyond.
Far beyond the cold conglomeration.
There is a temptation to peer beyond,
The uncertainty of temptation.
Why if only the unknown could be foreseen,
Such splendours could be overwhelming.
The mist is slowly thinning,
Yet there is a driving force.
From deep within to achieve.
To conquer, an infinite conquest.
Along with this will come rewards.
The ultimate pride of all humanity.
Love, success, peace of mind.
Of man, of woman, of nature.
Things do not merely appear in front of eyes,
Like the passing of the clouds.
An internal heroic effort smeared with fulfilment.
Let yourself be free!
Free as a bird, wings spread across the sky.
Beyond where any bird attempts to fly.
Take a chance with your dreams,
Fly higher than the highest clouds,
To the point of uneasy breathing.
The decent will be easier,
And the pressure will ease.
Warmer sensations, sweet smelling sun daisies.
The rains will come with the blowing of the wind.
Mother Nature has taken over the senses,
And with this the essence of time.
A state of certainty fills the air.
A new horizon, the setting of the sun.
Complete contentment encompasses the human soul
Silencity
Searching through corridors of cold conglomeration.
The wind slowly sweeping through nose twinging tightness.
Revealing the smells of ocean splendour and dissipating toxicity.
Amongst masses of shivering Greys and blundering clouds.
How can such immensity be moved, let alone toppled?
Mother Nature waves her wicked wand without warning.
Her ruling hand topples the tips that communicate with clustering clouds.
We cannot possess a magical wand to undo drastic doings!
It is a mere awakening of sheer immensities,
Radiating beneath unveiled distorted surfaces.
That shivers with the trickling of days.
Reflections sway to inner thoughts and desires,
That is only too well known.
Clouds that rage like thunderstorms of the eeriest nights.
Flashing thoughts conquer and overcome.
A spilling of freshness on seeds of spring.
Four seasons alternate at varying levels of complexities.
Within a newly evolved facade.
There is an ultimate calmness, like an eye of a hurricane.
Sunrise
You greet me for many years,
With your reassuring warm embrace.
You do look somewhat different,
As if my perception has accepted you for whom you are.
I missed you old friend over all these years,
Whilst having been sober for years,
And no longer chase the excitement that occurs in the night.
There has been no necessity to see you,
Since life has evolved around new routines.
I do not miss those days of seeing you,
Through reflected cold windowpanes.
Amidst putrid beer soaked carpets,
Cigarettes, glass, smoke, and stinging eyes.
Your warmth is so reassuring,
As you break through dissipated weeping grey.
I know not what I have missed during deep slumber,
As a result of promising physical embrace.
Oh why do things get so complicated by confusing questions in good stead?
Venturing beyond the confines of walls, paintings and materialism,
Your warmth eases the pain of the cold that awakens.
Delicate raindrops contact the numbness of the face,
Tingling in multiplicity with such gentleness.
The gaze is now focused on a black silhouette,
Amongst the eucalypt that shimmers in morning glory.
What sort of creature are you?
Does it really matter what you are?
Perched intently with purpose to survive another day.
Time changes things in many ways,
Beyond laws, OHS and the body itself.
Pain is a constant reminder of days gone past.
Not only of vigour, youth, folly and invincibility,
But of years of toil with the body, the mind and the soul.
A fraction of the physical prowess in past times,
But stronger in mind, awareness and lessons learnt time and time again…
The love of life
Her very presence lifts my spirits,
As the wind lifts the maple leaf,
Slowly at first, thence wisped away,
Floating into the wild blue yonder.
The whispering of the trees,
In the evening wind.
The passing of the clouds,
Is in unison with her stride.
An inner strength seems to wisp her forward.
There is a driving force.
Wings are now spread,
Gliding through the valley of life.
There is a great continuum of warmth,
With every close encounter,
The eyes fixate like that of a cheetah and its prey.
There is an uncertainty,
Amidst a void and an empty space.
Are these feelings also shared?
The half moon stands high,
Amongst the twinkling twilight
Yellow white and grey slowly fade thence dissipate,
With the rising of the sun.
The moon is now hiding,
Behind clouds of entangled grey.
May true feelings be hiding?
Behind blistering clouds and thunderstorms.
Morning light radiates,
From beyond the horizon.
Of warming, sleeping, darkened oceans,
That will soon to be green and blue.
The sun and horizon unite before cold shimmering eyes,
From which true colours are revealed.
Warming crashing, swirling white waters,
Tingle sensory endings on lower extremities.
This is the love for life!
When beauty is majestically revealed.
An open heart and mind,
Will bring forth love and spiritual growth.
Tides of Discontent
Walking with the mystique of the night,
The freshness of the gentle spray.
Familiar sounds of the shore.
This is always a place for me,
Amongst the gulls of the night.
Wandering the sands,
The tides of discontent.
The loneliness and lasting tranquility.
Revealing a long lost love.
Is this the perfect women for me?
Her memory is impregnated.
Like that of deepened footprints,
Slowly fading with the rising of the tide.
As the waves roll endlessly, effortlessly,
Slowly moving the sands of time.
The sea whispering and majestically calling.
The peacefulness and tranquility of the shores,
Elevate hypnotic transitional forces.
This natural beauty unites mind, body and soul.
Can such a wonderful experience,
Be fully appreciated in all conditions?
Strolling the endless shores,
Listening to the familiar sounds of sea.
Refreshing motions creep slowly to knees,
Amongst the swirling, cool waters.
A sudden tingling of feet,
Indeed a moment in time and surreal hesitation.
Gazing over troubled crashing waves,
To the calmer waters, revealing a splendor.
Here we find stability, steadiness and peace of mind.
Where the gulls rest, and sway with the easing breeze.
It is time to move on once more.
But alas, stranded by the sands.
Nature has indeed captured the spirit,
As does life with it's twists and turns.
Returning back to that Mystical World.
A world of inner peace, happiness, joy and tranquility.
This is the sublime ennoble awakening!
Transcendence
Transcending to another world,
Of inner peace, harmony and peace of mind.
Can there be a Utopian existence?
In nature, Human Nature and in human kind.
Often we see before cold shimmering eyes,
Ruthless acts that shed no tear.
The innocence of small timid fragile cries,
When the mighty pounces for all to hear.
Does the butterfly need not to rest?
No mercy slides across determined regions of white and grey.
A steady rise and fall of the chest.
Shivering tingles of sensory endings.
Uncontrollable reactions from top to bottom.
Behold! An ultimate fulfilment transcending.
Images of the night come clear.
The darkness becomes uneasy.
With every day may thou come to be near,
To a light that does not blind astray.
A direct conclusive path that paves way,
For that plaguing quest,
That burns the mind of all human kind,
Come and behold the finality of conclusional zest.
Tree Of Life
Spread thy wings,
Through times of gail.
The Harshness and beauty of nature,
Also reveals splendour.
Like leaves we may become detached,
Fall, flutter and be taken away from the tree.
Without this detachment, there cannot be nourishment.
To touch a falling leaf,
That shimmers and descends with vibrancy of colour.
Like the rings of a tree,
We have times of plentiful engagement.
Nourishment arises in various forms,
Of psychological, spiritual, and embodied perspectives.
The warmth of the Autumn sun,
In contrast with the icy mountain breeze.
Positive states of mind fluctuate with cyclical seasons.
We move forward in the warmth,
Planning for the winter like that of a bird.
Perched upon a leafless tree resting for the journey beyond.
Like a Snowy Mountain Pigmy Possum that awakens from a deep Torpor,
We also emerge from the darkness within.
The heart beats ever so slowly.
Life giving warmth slowly melts,
Dissipating snows amongst the comfort of new frontiers.
The journey beyond the darkness of self-enclosure,
Emerges like a clinging Cicada,
Slowly crawling upwards to the sun.
Awaiting seeds emerge on the sacred Earth,
Amongst Mother Nature’s unpredictability.
Within the construct of time,
And the ever expanding universe.
We attempt to move beyond physical constraints.
To a place where renewal and positive energy may result.
Ulterior demise
Gentle moths fooled by fatal engulfing light,
Head towards warmth and steady falling scales.
Peering lights stand erect in rows of fatalistic glory.
Dominating the pathway to the stars.
Blinded fragile creatures of night and day.
Break rest for warmth and direction.
This light at the end of the tunnel,
A new ideal beginning for some indeed!
These poor moths are destined for the funnel.
Such shortness of life for this fragile creature!
Don't shed a tear for those that have fallen.
Will they not fill empty benevolent bellies?
Welcoming wings at the crack of dawn.
Put an end to those that warm on gravel.
They may indeed wish they had not been born?
Death has become a glorified act.
Flee ignorant glowing light,
Towards yon dancing and rejoicing star.
Unbroken Solitude
Sunsets may be seen as a cliché,
But there is an endless attraction.
It is about the positivity of the Unknown day,
That comes forth with the previous nights aching cold.
Possibilities amongst infinite possibilities,
Restricted by ones physical demise.
I do not judge the sun,
As to why it sets as it does.
It just is as it seems,
Rather than something to be analysed
in a cyclical torment that plagues the mind.
Time is of no significance,
As the beauty of the now calms ones being.
Our insignificance amongst the grand scheme of time,
Where the sunset with its forthcoming darkness shall soon become our memorial.
United Rest
Seagulls randomly clustered.
Stand mesmerised by gentle spray.
There is no sound from afar that can be heard.
In unison, a still but swaying mass of white and grey.
Together they rest with stinging breath and swirling white wash.
Facing the completeness of the rising tide.
Gaze over waves that end their journey with a mighty crash.
The twinge of light unites feathers that glide.
Adapted plundering heroes,
Quietly quiver with trickling tears.
Scouting above bobbing feeding trios,
For tasty morsels, who do as they please.
With a gesture of hand,
Brown eyes and squawking beak.
Battle with contortioned head and salt gland.
With piercing, squelching, regurgitating intention.
Feeds his hungry hindering queen,
Around the shrilled innocence of impatient adolescent.
Necks that bulge with gasping convulsive delusion,
Majestically glide and plunge with repetitious swiftness and grace.
A short-term physical solution.
Easing swirls of internal beckoning move them onto another place.
Wandering bubbles
Wandering bubbles Bursting,
Between tiny tentative fingers.
This girl has a love for things like Halloween.
The smell of soapy bright bubbles linger.
She has forgotten the goings on around her
That she knows through a child’s eyes.
Surrounded by elongated silvery gums,
Reaching towards the relentless sun.
Placed high above earthly delights.
Joy, appreciation, love and a nurturing environment allows her to be a child.
Moving forward with her,
The bubble will always remain in her hand,
As memory and embodied experiences may fade.
Compartmentalised and ordered on an individual basis.
This embodied innocent perception alas is not shared by many in the world.
How lucky we are to have this Australian suburban perspective.
Wrinkles From Within
Gazing into the reflection and beyond.
From a fast moving train.
This slow mysterious ageing.
The mysterious movement of the train.
Thoughts are often racing,
With alternating moonlight glow.
Transcending through darkness with constant pacing.
With steady breathe and silver smirking smile,
Air vents hum from yon tender crown.
Send cold shivers through I'll thin gown.
Let's stretch the legs with staggering steps.
Carriage by carriage, noisy vents alternate.
A subconscious, satisfaction of senses.
A Set co-coordinated internal reckoning.
This swaying moving mass comes alive.
This uniqueness and aura of travel.
Voices from down below,
Break the serenity of the night.
From afar the eye instantly gazes,
At a first glimpse of sensual lines, and smooth transitions.
There is a distinct eloquence in the way the body is held,
Whilst transporting the soul in spatial continuum.
A prolonged natural curiosity to observe intermittently,
Within the realm of social grace and appropriateness.
Many questions rage uncontrollably with internal pounding.
In unison with trembling flesh and escalating adrenalin.
Hypnotised by glimmering windows of compassion,
In contrasted light and dark.
The voice is calm and confident,
Uniting with animated body language and gesture.
What will be presented with each new day?
Amongst golden rays of hope and twinkling stars?
From deep within a burning sensation that ebbs and flows,
With voices that pound and cloud the mind.
Interaction is the key that unlocks trust,
Containing all the wonders ready to be harnessed.
The urge transcends into action,
Resulting in an equal or opposite reaction.
Easing the mind, body and soul.
Awakening
As I wake your touch embraces my essence and being.
Years of loneliness and solitude amongst cold winters does not convince,
Nor does the need for comfort.
There is need and there is want.
Your presence is like the sun,
With its warm caress that gently soothes.
Warming not only my flesh,
But my mind and consciousness.
My want is proportional to your feelings and emotions.
We are on the same page,
But the page is read at different speeds.
Like every word that is read and felt,
It is experienced from different backgrounds and perceptions.
A book, a piece of music, comedy, experiences,
All give awareness of who you are.
One may not enquire to what moves your heart,
As words alone cannot solve this.
In the immediacy of a newly formed apparent romance,
It is evident you are a kind affectionate and caring soul.
The look in your eyes for that brief moment when we embrace,
Warms my very essence of being in place and time.
I see you, the real you,
And you see me through the lens of a stranger.
You warm the cockles of my heart,
That suddenly tightens and quickens with pure adrenaline.
Butterflies do not refer to anxiety alone,
But perceived love from many interpretations of what love is.
I love the Earth, the animals,
And I may indeed love thy neighbour devoid of a peace from within.
Peace often comes when the shackles of the past are released in time.
Meaningful love may be revealed,
Within unspecified moments of this conjured construct.
Beyond the constraints of this manifestation,
There are little moments within moments.
Where time appears to stand still,
like the stillness of a leaf that dares not to flutter.
The mind is aligned with the feeling of joy,
Whilst trembling at ones attempt to interpret the response.
There is music that is created by our embrace,
From within the imaginative mind.
I feel your touch, your breath,
And every movement you make.
Your thoughts are those I wish to hear,
During your silence and extended gaze.
Not only your affirmations,
But what ails you is my concern.
Our differences are our strength,
As is our tastes that make the journey unique.
Compromise is seen as a sign of love,
That helps to guide one through rough storms.
Like a ship that depends on the lighthouse and its keeper,
There is hope beyond the metaphor.
Of two ships that pass in the night,
And communicate with the flashing of lights.
It takes two to tango as these steps are shared,
As there remains an awkwardness in perceived humour.
This humour however is not real or genuine,
But a defence mechanism to ease bitterness.
Like the 'Tango' and learnt mechanical steps,
There are new steps that emerge.
Based on a shared embodied existence,
Of unplanned experiences, spontaneity and increasing flexibility beyond years of routine.
Bear
Upon first approach from afar the scent was evident.
The groaning and ritualistic nature of a tired soul,
Surrounded by the solidity of cold grey weathered concrete.
What poor creature resides behind such a structure?
Of entombment, restricted routine and prying eyes,
The heart feels heavy and the mind sinks whilst encapsulated with empathy.
Without even the clarification of what lies beyond!
It is no longer the determination of the survival of the fittest!
Human intention and conservation has outweighed the suffering.
Was this creature originally roaming free or born into a world of captivity?
From within the depths of the concreted shelter,
A brown Kodiak bear emerges from within the depths.
With a lethargic, limping and hesitant intermittent gait,
And cathartic roar searching for placed food items.
Mesmerized at its conviction to continue its search,
Various emotions and feelings fluctuate whilst perceiving.
Reasoning is lost within the appearance of the spectacle,
Whilst wonderment resides alongside declining fragility.
Beyond Bombo Quarry
There is a rush to greet the sunset,
That had begun to fade with contrasting silhouettes.
Amongst the salty fresh smell of the ocean,
Heightened senses dance with the swaying foliage at the edge of cliffs.
The landscape seems somewhat alien yet welcoming,
Whilst gazing upon and beyond the grey rock formations.
Japanese tourists face backwards,
To briefly integrate themselves into the sublime with ‘selfy’ stick and phone.
Is this what nature has become to signify?
Simply to glorify oneself within the realm of Gods creation?
What has become of pure embodied sensibility?
There is a necessity to sit and ponder,
Feeling the light pass over this strange curiosity.
Until there is only the sound of crashing waves,
Greeted by returning gulls that that take shelter amongst the moonlight.
Beyond the Lismore Show
People of all ages gather near ‘The Heart’ for the spectacle.
Standing united intently gaze at the bucked bull rider.
Various signs erected in plain sight.
‘Don’t frack our water’ and ‘water is life’.
How is it that economics is put before community health?
Hefty fines apply to others for environmental strife.
Dollars flash in the forefront of their lobes.
How is it ethical to poison our water supply?
When is enough, enough!
Water is our lifeline in the absence of desalination plant.
Children pound the pavement with conviction.
A commitment and insight for The Northern Rivers.
Ingrained environmental ideologies of adolescence flood the mind,
Whilst an idle protester stands erect with yellow sign.
The Lismore Show is a weekend of celebration for most.
Our minds are temporarily detached,
To reside with the land, sky, and of the spectacle.
Drawn in the direction of music caressed by the wind,
Hypnotised by the verse of Banjo Paterson.
Amongst the smell of beer, manure and corn dog,
Denis ‘Dingo’ Dryden performs his original solo bush ballads.
The mind, body and soul is encapsulated,
Beyond the previous days of CSG rallies, and discontentment.
Byron Bay Emotions
Emotions erupt from the very thought of ‘Byron’,
That stem from years of youthful thought and folly.
The alcohol fuelled nights, bright lights, bands and backpackers,
Fill the streets like ants on a familiar track.
They come and they go amongst locals whom complain,
Of displaced glass, lack of parking and excessive nightly rant.
Amongst the hustle and bustle of the watering holes,
Soft yellowish sands and inviting fresh spray.
The realisation that one is temporarily free.
Choosing ones own destiny with no physical shackles.
The day has become my saviour amongst the pinks and blues,
Easing and soothing all negativities that swirl with the whispering white wash.
On the radio a man has found peace by living on the beach.
Sold all possessions and seeks the path to enlightenment.
Happiness comes to those that listen to their souls.
Whatever makes you happy when skies are grey….
Searching to explore previously unfamiliar earth, water and sky.
For something new that bewilders and excites the senses.
Clambering through brush and goat trails along steep cliffs,
In an attempt to find a patch of peace and natural beauty.
Away from the hustle and bustle and table top dancing,
Drifting smells of coffee, pork and cluttering dishes.
An overload of the senses,
Amongst animalistic chants and birthday wishes.
The world of suburbia has dissipated amongst Byron Bay emotions,
Whilst golden rays dance on the crest of waves.
The constancy of breath and salty fresh air become my potion,
The light unites with spray and floating hawk,
Whilst imprinting an image for future interpretation.
I now see why there is such talk,
Amongst smooth sand and steady elation.
Calm and Collected
Graceful beings appear out of the blue,
Within the view of golden sands and smoke filled air.
There is a distinct habitual calmness and ritual,
As if obsessed by the relatedness of the view.
Deep in contemplation and restricted movement
This kookaburra bathes in evening glow.
Of restricted, glistening sunshine wavering amongst long green pine needles.
Moments of solitude, and easing breeze are indeed familiar,
For this robust and distinguished native.
Perhaps guarding its domain amongst snapping noisy minors that irritate,
With great concern, in contrast to slightly raised white feathery crown.
Signifying a non-contest and confidence of superior brawn.
Indeed a pathetic attempt to dislocate the North-facing gaze!
A sudden comical laughter,
That chants and mocks all those in sight.
Not to the delight of parakeets and dwarfed territorial competitors.
Across the well tree lined descent, swoops the bride in nature.
Perched slightly apart without the urge to unite flesh.
A common bond that needs no testing and clarification.
Suddenly as they had appeared within the depleting wavering rays,
That radiate amongst glistening green shivering leaves.
Disbelief at such a return to proximity.
Amongst human presence, and the rejection of the salmon offering.
With an upward thrust and grand leap from silvery rail.
Darting through openings of contrasting greens and browns,
Into the glory of the sunset and blundering violet and whitened clouds.
Moments like this make me proud,
To be amongst these unique creatures of night and day.
One can only wonder about their gaze and meditative state,
That elates my soul.
A reminder to take an appreciative breathe within this life,
For such a spectacle to reveal.
Choices
Sometimes the best path is not one at all,
As there is no yellow brick road.
No destination one can conjure,
Amongst the unpredictability of life.
Some are exhilarated whilst walking,
On an unbeaten path of pure experience.
Within the wilderness of spontaneity,
New experiences and unbridled beginnings.
We are conditioned by the system,
That forces us to align with plans of security.
Fears arise as a result of entering new waters,
That were not originally part of that grand plan.
Sometimes risks are worth taking,
And like a path through a forest that disappears to the beach,
We merely see footprints that disappear with the rising of the new tide.
A new day has begun.
New beginnings, friends, aspirations, new horizons.
Desires
Amongst the labyrinth of earthly desires,
It seems tonight that we will rejoice.
A loneliness is still embedded,
With sensations and thoughts of lost opportunities.
At this time of feeling true,
With shortcomings in mind amongst belligerent blue.
What shall be done with time?
Stuck in a mould that restricts a momentous cue.
When shall this overarching numbness cease to chime?
The great grandfather clock signals,
As sharp edged internal youth join forces.
Left, right, left advances,
From bellowing subconscious.
Take a chance, and do what thou wish,
Whilst following dreams and ambitions.
Shall inner desires become clear,
Free as a wedge tailed eagle.
Burning desires from deep within,
No hidden truths, no inner secrets.
Bodily warmth radiates from deep within internal chambers.
Don't just talk about it!
Take that first step,
Slow at first, then with ease.
Directions
From dust we rise,
Like dust we may drift.
Thence settle,
Until the next wind blows.
The wind may be soft,
With gentle intentions.
But the day will come,
When gale is overpowered
By a stronger entity.
Must we tread on thin ice?
Be weary of mother natures,
Beauty and destruction?
Is it the survival of the fittest?
Or does brain conquer brawn?
We must learn to adapt.
Be ready, plan ahead and incorporate buffers.
Can innocence prevail?
Like dust we may drift
Thence settle,
Until the next wind blows.
The wind may be soft,
With gentle intentions.
But the day will come,
When gale is overpowered
By a stronger entity.
Must we always have our guard up?
Like that of the elk, with radar ears.
Sentries posted from all directions.
The young play yet practice for a day of reckoning.
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
In nature, great variances collide.
Interactions may be noble; peaceful; Symbiotic; beneficial; detrimental.
The mind wanders,
Eyes burn with misconception.
Hands lift slowly but soundly.
Squelching eyelids in a half rise and fall.
Cold grays cast shadows on plains of vast variances.
Is it true in all cases great and small?
That rest is a state of necessity?
The breath of nature may be steady along with her beauty.
But she has to rest like that of flesh.
White blurred feathers hesitate and hypnotically unite with the new day.
Cradled and nurtured to a resting place unknown.
High Country
Swirling thoughts gather momentum,
Of majesty, beauty and sweeping plains.
The highland rugged ranges reveal,
An array of Lichen, pigmy possum,
And intricate pale yellow, furry wildflowers.
There is an urge to gather a sample,
That is instantly self-denied.
Beyond the bounds of the law,
To cherish forever the uniqueness and majesty of adaptation.
Devoid of inevitable decline and dried keepsake,
Remains absent from the notion of ‘cabinet of curiosity’.
Cold thinned, fluctuating air numbs the nose and ear,
Nearby, whistling gale and descending anguished famished crow.
The smell of distant patches of rain,
Waft as the head rises with deepened inhalation.
Hypnotically directed downwards,
Beyond rugged ridges and layered pale blue sky.
What beautiful creatures lay beyond the chilled adapted shrubs?
Beyond the vastness of the descent through swirling contrasting clouds.
The journey in this life will be rewarding when the simplest forms,
Are looked upon as an art form in their own right.
It is this engagement with ecosystems that encapsulates the soul,
Revealing a ‘sense of place’ that leads to an everlasting sensation.
There is a thirst for the knowledge,
Within the complexities of places that affect other spaces.
Swirling thoughts gather momentum,
Of majesty, beauty and sweeping plains.
The highland rugged ranges reveal,
An array of Lichen, pigmy possum, and pale yellow furry wildflower.
The Australian landscape is vastly contrasting,
A country of extremes that supports life and so suddenly takes it away.
Imprints
An Imprint in a day of minute imprints.
It is a brief impression in the sands of time.
As happiness rises and subsides,
So does the cyclical exterior nature of Oceans of entirety.
Uneasy oceans move with hot and cold intentions.
El Nino will inevitably cause variations in weather across the globe.
Human Kind alters the oceans of displeasure.
Here we see moments of darkness and grief,
Whilst on the flip side, we see beauty and majestic symbiosis.
The oceans reveal humanistic results.
The tear, a single drop, that eases with brief revealance.
A stream,
A body of water,
A drifting,
Changing,
Ulterior demise.
Lifelong Declaration
Age shall not weary the spirit and support,
From loyal followers and participants.
Evolving from little financial reward,
Amongst tears, blood and sweat.
Stems love for the game of cricket.
Youthful eagerness inspired by the ‘greats’,
Of the past and present.
Muffled sounds penetrate the womb.
A sudden rush of adrenalin,
In unison with rigid arm,
And pointed finger.
From local hotels to shanty,
People from all walks of life,
Chant for their dearly beloved.
Fluttering voices can be heard from
Beyond the physical constraint,
Of technologically advanced, and humble grounds.
Worn armchairs signify time worth spent,
Not only amongst ‘The Boys’ and loved ones.
But within the hypnotic serenity of ones own surrounds.
Names come and go,
But the spirit of the game lives on.
From generation to generation,
Rules agreed upon for varying social settings.
Taped tennis balls and ‘six stitchers’
Swing amongst golden sands, dusty streets, buffalo,
And sun scorched Earth.
From Delhi to Sydney,
Bright eyed youth play and practice,
For a possibility of inclusion,
Within the ‘spectacle’?
Morning Song
The soothing sound of the melodious ‘chatterer’
Penetrates the coldness of the pane.
Disturbs the restlessness of slumber,
And unsettling nightly dream.
The wavering yellow glow of sunlight,
Penetrates absorbent warming green Melaleuca.
Passing through still restricted white silk,
In an attempt to awaken for the daily ritual.
Nature invites the soul to rejoice in song,
For the blessing of life giving warmth.
Why is it that birds sing in the morning?
Do they simply respond out of happiness for this glorious sun drenched day?
Its competitor has spurred the Butcherbird on.
Responding with Shrilled short sweet tones,
That echoes amongst the valley.
We sleep, we wake, we sing, and we celebrate together.
Blessed to witness the majesty and beauty,
Before our final exhalation.
The body screams with thirst,
And disturbs the serenity of the moment.
Urging to once again be replenished for the new day ahead,
Amongst the serenity and eminence of the old growth rainforests and lush green hills.
Mother Earth
Earth mother is united with all,
Creature’s great and small.
The divine mother looks over
The mountains that are our bosom.
With thirst we must suckle from grey sky.
Tricking through hands
Shall sprout above barren promising land.
From deep within nurturing dark richness,
Lay seeds that wait for an ideal situation.
We also wait with emotional and physical constraints.
For that moment where our thirst and hunger are quenched.
Some choose to lay dormant,
When conditions are plentiful.
Australian seedpods are opened in extreme temperatures.
New life arises from trees that have suffered the wrath of fire.
Through evolution they have been able to adapt,
To a variety of conditions.
Each species of plant life unique,
Are able to overcome harsh situations.
So must we overcome the hurt in our past.
Our wounds must be licked and healed
Yet there will always be scarring deep within.
Like that of a felled tree.
We see the rings of distress and displeasure.
Only if we let complications be free to settle,
Will richness be gently accepted.
Fossils may be uncovered,
Brushed ever so delicately.
Analyzed from all perceptions,
Into a previous existence,
With varying directions.
Would you rather have a bone?
Or the fresh fruits of life?
Let the skin be discarded,
To reveal delightful rewards.
Peering Through The Mist
There is an extreme uncertainty,
As if the mist has thickened.
Only seeing what is directly in front.
The mood has slowly changed,
As does the essence of time.
Always a temptation to peer beyond.
Far beyond the cold conglomeration.
There is a temptation to peer beyond,
The uncertainty of temptation.
Why if only the unknown could be foreseen,
Such splendours could be overwhelming.
The mist is slowly thinning,
Yet there is a driving force.
From deep within to achieve.
To conquer, an infinite conquest.
Along with this will come rewards.
The ultimate pride of all humanity.
Love, success, peace of mind.
Of man, of woman, of nature.
Things do not merely appear in front of eyes,
Like the passing of the clouds.
An internal heroic effort smeared with fulfilment.
Let yourself be free!
Free as a bird, wings spread across the sky.
Beyond where any bird attempts to fly.
Take a chance with your dreams,
Fly higher than the highest clouds,
To the point of uneasy breathing.
The decent will be easier,
And the pressure will ease.
Warmer sensations, sweet smelling sun daisies.
The rains will come with the blowing of the wind.
Mother Nature has taken over the senses,
And with this the essence of time.
A state of certainty fills the air.
A new horizon, the setting of the sun.
Complete contentment encompasses the human soul
Silencity
Searching through corridors of cold conglomeration.
The wind slowly sweeping through nose twinging tightness.
Revealing the smells of ocean splendour and dissipating toxicity.
Amongst masses of shivering Greys and blundering clouds.
How can such immensity be moved, let alone toppled?
Mother Nature waves her wicked wand without warning.
Her ruling hand topples the tips that communicate with clustering clouds.
We cannot possess a magical wand to undo drastic doings!
It is a mere awakening of sheer immensities,
Radiating beneath unveiled distorted surfaces.
That shivers with the trickling of days.
Reflections sway to inner thoughts and desires,
That is only too well known.
Clouds that rage like thunderstorms of the eeriest nights.
Flashing thoughts conquer and overcome.
A spilling of freshness on seeds of spring.
Four seasons alternate at varying levels of complexities.
Within a newly evolved facade.
There is an ultimate calmness, like an eye of a hurricane.
Sunrise
You greet me for many years,
With your reassuring warm embrace.
You do look somewhat different,
As if my perception has accepted you for whom you are.
I missed you old friend over all these years,
Whilst having been sober for years,
And no longer chase the excitement that occurs in the night.
There has been no necessity to see you,
Since life has evolved around new routines.
I do not miss those days of seeing you,
Through reflected cold windowpanes.
Amidst putrid beer soaked carpets,
Cigarettes, glass, smoke, and stinging eyes.
Your warmth is so reassuring,
As you break through dissipated weeping grey.
I know not what I have missed during deep slumber,
As a result of promising physical embrace.
Oh why do things get so complicated by confusing questions in good stead?
Venturing beyond the confines of walls, paintings and materialism,
Your warmth eases the pain of the cold that awakens.
Delicate raindrops contact the numbness of the face,
Tingling in multiplicity with such gentleness.
The gaze is now focused on a black silhouette,
Amongst the eucalypt that shimmers in morning glory.
What sort of creature are you?
Does it really matter what you are?
Perched intently with purpose to survive another day.
Time changes things in many ways,
Beyond laws, OHS and the body itself.
Pain is a constant reminder of days gone past.
Not only of vigour, youth, folly and invincibility,
But of years of toil with the body, the mind and the soul.
A fraction of the physical prowess in past times,
But stronger in mind, awareness and lessons learnt time and time again…
The love of life
Her very presence lifts my spirits,
As the wind lifts the maple leaf,
Slowly at first, thence wisped away,
Floating into the wild blue yonder.
The whispering of the trees,
In the evening wind.
The passing of the clouds,
Is in unison with her stride.
An inner strength seems to wisp her forward.
There is a driving force.
Wings are now spread,
Gliding through the valley of life.
There is a great continuum of warmth,
With every close encounter,
The eyes fixate like that of a cheetah and its prey.
There is an uncertainty,
Amidst a void and an empty space.
Are these feelings also shared?
The half moon stands high,
Amongst the twinkling twilight
Yellow white and grey slowly fade thence dissipate,
With the rising of the sun.
The moon is now hiding,
Behind clouds of entangled grey.
May true feelings be hiding?
Behind blistering clouds and thunderstorms.
Morning light radiates,
From beyond the horizon.
Of warming, sleeping, darkened oceans,
That will soon to be green and blue.
The sun and horizon unite before cold shimmering eyes,
From which true colours are revealed.
Warming crashing, swirling white waters,
Tingle sensory endings on lower extremities.
This is the love for life!
When beauty is majestically revealed.
An open heart and mind,
Will bring forth love and spiritual growth.
Tides of Discontent
Walking with the mystique of the night,
The freshness of the gentle spray.
Familiar sounds of the shore.
This is always a place for me,
Amongst the gulls of the night.
Wandering the sands,
The tides of discontent.
The loneliness and lasting tranquility.
Revealing a long lost love.
Is this the perfect women for me?
Her memory is impregnated.
Like that of deepened footprints,
Slowly fading with the rising of the tide.
As the waves roll endlessly, effortlessly,
Slowly moving the sands of time.
The sea whispering and majestically calling.
The peacefulness and tranquility of the shores,
Elevate hypnotic transitional forces.
This natural beauty unites mind, body and soul.
Can such a wonderful experience,
Be fully appreciated in all conditions?
Strolling the endless shores,
Listening to the familiar sounds of sea.
Refreshing motions creep slowly to knees,
Amongst the swirling, cool waters.
A sudden tingling of feet,
Indeed a moment in time and surreal hesitation.
Gazing over troubled crashing waves,
To the calmer waters, revealing a splendor.
Here we find stability, steadiness and peace of mind.
Where the gulls rest, and sway with the easing breeze.
It is time to move on once more.
But alas, stranded by the sands.
Nature has indeed captured the spirit,
As does life with it's twists and turns.
Returning back to that Mystical World.
A world of inner peace, happiness, joy and tranquility.
This is the sublime ennoble awakening!
Transcendence
Transcending to another world,
Of inner peace, harmony and peace of mind.
Can there be a Utopian existence?
In nature, Human Nature and in human kind.
Often we see before cold shimmering eyes,
Ruthless acts that shed no tear.
The innocence of small timid fragile cries,
When the mighty pounces for all to hear.
Does the butterfly need not to rest?
No mercy slides across determined regions of white and grey.
A steady rise and fall of the chest.
Shivering tingles of sensory endings.
Uncontrollable reactions from top to bottom.
Behold! An ultimate fulfilment transcending.
Images of the night come clear.
The darkness becomes uneasy.
With every day may thou come to be near,
To a light that does not blind astray.
A direct conclusive path that paves way,
For that plaguing quest,
That burns the mind of all human kind,
Come and behold the finality of conclusional zest.
Tree Of Life
Spread thy wings,
Through times of gail.
The Harshness and beauty of nature,
Also reveals splendour.
Like leaves we may become detached,
Fall, flutter and be taken away from the tree.
Without this detachment, there cannot be nourishment.
To touch a falling leaf,
That shimmers and descends with vibrancy of colour.
Like the rings of a tree,
We have times of plentiful engagement.
Nourishment arises in various forms,
Of psychological, spiritual, and embodied perspectives.
The warmth of the Autumn sun,
In contrast with the icy mountain breeze.
Positive states of mind fluctuate with cyclical seasons.
We move forward in the warmth,
Planning for the winter like that of a bird.
Perched upon a leafless tree resting for the journey beyond.
Like a Snowy Mountain Pigmy Possum that awakens from a deep Torpor,
We also emerge from the darkness within.
The heart beats ever so slowly.
Life giving warmth slowly melts,
Dissipating snows amongst the comfort of new frontiers.
The journey beyond the darkness of self-enclosure,
Emerges like a clinging Cicada,
Slowly crawling upwards to the sun.
Awaiting seeds emerge on the sacred Earth,
Amongst Mother Nature’s unpredictability.
Within the construct of time,
And the ever expanding universe.
We attempt to move beyond physical constraints.
To a place where renewal and positive energy may result.
Ulterior demise
Gentle moths fooled by fatal engulfing light,
Head towards warmth and steady falling scales.
Peering lights stand erect in rows of fatalistic glory.
Dominating the pathway to the stars.
Blinded fragile creatures of night and day.
Break rest for warmth and direction.
This light at the end of the tunnel,
A new ideal beginning for some indeed!
These poor moths are destined for the funnel.
Such shortness of life for this fragile creature!
Don't shed a tear for those that have fallen.
Will they not fill empty benevolent bellies?
Welcoming wings at the crack of dawn.
Put an end to those that warm on gravel.
They may indeed wish they had not been born?
Death has become a glorified act.
Flee ignorant glowing light,
Towards yon dancing and rejoicing star.
Unbroken Solitude
Sunsets may be seen as a cliché,
But there is an endless attraction.
It is about the positivity of the Unknown day,
That comes forth with the previous nights aching cold.
Possibilities amongst infinite possibilities,
Restricted by ones physical demise.
I do not judge the sun,
As to why it sets as it does.
It just is as it seems,
Rather than something to be analysed
in a cyclical torment that plagues the mind.
Time is of no significance,
As the beauty of the now calms ones being.
Our insignificance amongst the grand scheme of time,
Where the sunset with its forthcoming darkness shall soon become our memorial.
United Rest
Seagulls randomly clustered.
Stand mesmerised by gentle spray.
There is no sound from afar that can be heard.
In unison, a still but swaying mass of white and grey.
Together they rest with stinging breath and swirling white wash.
Facing the completeness of the rising tide.
Gaze over waves that end their journey with a mighty crash.
The twinge of light unites feathers that glide.
Adapted plundering heroes,
Quietly quiver with trickling tears.
Scouting above bobbing feeding trios,
For tasty morsels, who do as they please.
With a gesture of hand,
Brown eyes and squawking beak.
Battle with contortioned head and salt gland.
With piercing, squelching, regurgitating intention.
Feeds his hungry hindering queen,
Around the shrilled innocence of impatient adolescent.
Necks that bulge with gasping convulsive delusion,
Majestically glide and plunge with repetitious swiftness and grace.
A short-term physical solution.
Easing swirls of internal beckoning move them onto another place.
Wandering bubbles
Wandering bubbles Bursting,
Between tiny tentative fingers.
This girl has a love for things like Halloween.
The smell of soapy bright bubbles linger.
She has forgotten the goings on around her
That she knows through a child’s eyes.
Surrounded by elongated silvery gums,
Reaching towards the relentless sun.
Placed high above earthly delights.
Joy, appreciation, love and a nurturing environment allows her to be a child.
Moving forward with her,
The bubble will always remain in her hand,
As memory and embodied experiences may fade.
Compartmentalised and ordered on an individual basis.
This embodied innocent perception alas is not shared by many in the world.
How lucky we are to have this Australian suburban perspective.
Wrinkles From Within
Gazing into the reflection and beyond.
From a fast moving train.
This slow mysterious ageing.
The mysterious movement of the train.
Thoughts are often racing,
With alternating moonlight glow.
Transcending through darkness with constant pacing.
With steady breathe and silver smirking smile,
Air vents hum from yon tender crown.
Send cold shivers through I'll thin gown.
Let's stretch the legs with staggering steps.
Carriage by carriage, noisy vents alternate.
A subconscious, satisfaction of senses.
A Set co-coordinated internal reckoning.
This swaying moving mass comes alive.
This uniqueness and aura of travel.
Voices from down below,
Break the serenity of the night.
