The smallest thing

that twitches,

tweets or trembles

on branch or leaf

can trigger my

imagination.

For those small

things have more

mystery and magic,

not to mention the

wisdom of the ages

in them than all of

the 'Big' things we

hold near and dear,

the electronic, supersonic

inter-galactic bits of

plastic that encapsulate

our known world,

hand held gateways

to…

Give me eyes like windows, closed

and shuttered at night.

Help me avert my gaze,

and my mind.

Let me observe life, yet see

nothing.

I will invest in rose coloured

contact lens factory.

Give me the strength not to see

myself as others do. 

Don't let me make too much of a

spectacle of myself.

I must increase taxes on seeing

eye…

Words formed in silence,

not yet tangible.

Transformed by time and motion into

voice, shape, and meaning.

Simple words, simple in comphrehension,

moving imperceptibly from

shadow into substance.

And from this womb

of subdued contemplation

evolves the written word.

Born of solitude,

now set free

to whisper, roar, and rhyme

across the page.

The moment of birth

giving me…

Waves receding, back to the anonymity

of the pulsing swell,

their moment of glory dashed.

And here we stand, helpless on the shore

of almost New Year, watching as our year

of little triumphs, little tragedies float away,

with no fanfare, no farewell.

And already the waves of tomorrow

lap round our ankles,

it all begins . . . again.

Wake up one morning from

our little dreams,

get out of our little beds,

open our little front doors

and go out.

Leave behind our little screens,

soft carpets, dim lights,

our little tin cans . . . on wheels,

the little horizons we view,

and prepare to meet the big

world, the really big world.

Turn left, or right, up or down,

it is out there waiting . . .

the big skies, the big seas,

the big…

Ghosts of the past are waiting,

waiting to break free

from the subconscious prison.

They lie dormant, like trees

in winter, down dim and

dangerous avenues in your mind.

Banished there, never to return.

You slide through life, seemingly

in control, and comfortable,

keeping the past under lock and key.

Forever shoring up the prison walls,

securing your feelings

and guarding the gates.

Always in…

If I hear another

heartrendingly

saccharine tinged

lachrymose laden

and incredibly

uplifting song

sung by another

heartrendingly

saccharine tinged

lachrymose laden

and incredibly

uplifting singer . . .

I shall vomit . . . copiously !

Australian poet, sitting

in the street

on a plastic milk crate

throne . . .

offering reams of rhyme

to passers-by,

he offers, but gets no

takers . . .…

Yes a brake,

something

to slow

us down,

something…