Let memento morte inspire you to a life of health.
Let carpe diem motivate you to enjoy life’s wealth.
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Monthly Archives: February 2024
Bullet
if a bullet were a feather
susceptible to the weather
denied its trajectory and death wish
lost its velocity lost its hiss
only then would it always miss
its appointment with death's kiss
Angel
Angel carry your heavy payload
until god asks for it one day
Angel bitter, discard your halo
throw it worlds away
Angel fly to heaven above
dive to hell below
Angel receive peace from a dove
or scavenge it from a crow
Angel weep soul deep
until your very last breath
Angel sleep the long sleep
pray yourself to death
Angel just Angel lust Angel thrust
Angel sing Angel cling Angel wring
Angel must Angel bust Angel dust
Angel wing left wing right wing broken wing
Angel nothing
The dVerse prompts from Melissa today were inspired by Kurt Cobain’s birthday. I chose to take one line from a Nirvana song and reflect on the feelings that might drive a suicide. It was a harrowing exercise and I am sorry if it causes hurt. https://dversepoets.com/2024/02/20/happy-birthday-kurt🎉/
Tales of calm and beauty #1
Beauty is in the moment
Sitting by a window
Sun streaming in
From directly across the way
Low in the pale blue winter sky
But strong enough to warm the room
Through tall floor to ceiling glass
Strong black lines
The shadows of the woodwork
Stretch long, deep and straight
Across shiny slate
Framing the scene
Defining the space
Giving shape to enveloping comfort
Warming the calm
Enclosing peacefulness
As I now heavy lidded
Look out on gold rimmed trees
Vivid green grass
Foraging birds
And hear the cascading water of the creek
Beauty is in this moment
Life as a vacuum
Within my mind within my soul
There lies an ever expanding hole
When I try to grasp its meaning
Elusive thoughts distract my gleaning
Where I see a thing to do
There I lose it to something new
When I return to get more done
I find I achieved exactly none
I often don’t quite know who I am
Retired, a child or a working man
I sometimes see the past and future
It’s the present I struggle to nurture
I hear the talk around me go
When I talk I don’t always know
What I am saying to others there
I feel anxious as they look and stare
I lose things now so easily
I dismiss the losses breezily
With timid laughter I brush them off
Truth is I cannot understand the loss
I get confused and in a muddle
I no longer accomplish what was a doddle
Faces of loved ones I’m unsure of now
To answer a question I fail at how
I’m sure I should be I’m not quite here
There is this woman but who is “my dear”
I live with remembering uncertain fear
I forget to remember anything I hear
I want to go somewhere but the way is unclear
Why I should go there I have no idea
Is this life or farce it is certainly queer
I’m turned inside out my front is rear
No reason for existence yet death’s not near
No insight no knowledge yet I still shed a tear
Life is a vacuum into which I can’t peer
Woollybutt
An excellent walk in the towering Woollybutt Alpine Ash forest of Mt Stirling. Find my map and description here https://walkingmaps.com.au/walk/5836
Death is to be my keeper
Mistake not my fondness for breathing,
to have blood coursing through my veins.
The sadness at my leaving
is in being separated from life’s gains.
Now death is to be my keeper.
Acceptance is my stance.
As I face the tireless grim reaper,
I doubt another chance.
The mariner
I navigate life as a mariner
sailing unpredictable seas
Respectful yet wary
of what they might bring to me
the sea is my natural element
alternating tranquility with power
for me there is no better firmament
to anchor each ticking hour
the waves provide each peak and trough
of life’s brief and epic journeys
that for me is always enough
with the pleasure and pain they have earned me
afloat I bob between the layers of over and undersea
in my boat my capsule of life I bob most jauntily
when l’m aloft the view ahead is a matter of degree
when down below the view is fine,not seen murkily
time will come I’ll be called down deep by Davy Jones
my time of clear air or storms on water will be done
I’ll find a sandy bed to rest and place my ageing bones
afar from the binding land, eyes dead to the blinding sun
My insouciant self
I cherish my insouciant self
The one who never worries me
I treat this careless one as health
whose world is anxiety free
without this one where would l be?
walking around with a frown
but my insouciant self helps me see
how to turn that frown upside down
The truck
Down upon him the big rogue truck bore
Last thoughts were of those he adored
of her and those eyes so deep and brown
he fell in love with those eyes one night on the town
of the lithe girl in the backyard playing with cars
of the teenage boy inside playing his guitars
of the home he loved for its warmth and welcome
whenever he arrived back from long hauls and then some
there was the dog with tail wagging
as she greeted him excitedly
and the chooks out the back he greeted politely
what would become of his family and home
how could he leave them to fend on their own?
then the truck veered wildly missed by an inch
so close, so close no time to flinch
he shook with shock he shook with fear
he looked at his life and all he held dear
he knew what to do right away
the way ahead was clear
The original idea
Aside
Once upon a time there was an original idea. A creature somewhere on earth had a thought. Even more significant that thought was acted upon and something new happened. Are there still original ideas? Maybe every thought is original because its origin is always within a new person, at a new point in time and space.
My furrowed brow
The Finch
with red brow and olive wings
presents a pretty picture
Upon its chosen perch
it even makes the invasive thistle look good
With pleasure I spy
scenery I would rather deny
True love
When I took your hand
much smaller hand
much softer hand
much braver hand
when you took my hand
much larger hand
much harder hand
much lonelier hand
we readied two individuals
for joint lives
never known
alone
We took on each life
hard life
sad life
brave life
we rescued each other
one became both
more than both
more than we
imagined
we shone
we continue to shine
we sparkled
we spark in ways divine
we learnt about love
we learned to love it is sublime
true love
Ruffey Creek walk
This large suburban park is full of nice surprises. There is an interesting local history trail, there are pleasant walking paths and the playground and other amenities provide for all the family.
Find the map here on http://www.walkingmaps.com.au with a full description using this link Ruffey Creek walk
We can dance
We can dance
And lose ourselves in a moment
Because that is what dancing is for
We can sway
Holding each other tightly
To confirm our love once more
We can be melody
As music inhabits us
We let our emotions go
We can swing
Together to a rhythm
Fierce, suggestive, gentle, slow
We can slink
Sexy, sultry, driven
Gliding across a floor
We can rhumba
To a beat of pure, rollicking fun
Then breathless, cry for more
We can jig
Jumping, clapping, heel toe
Folding, peeling struts our stuff
We can rock
Big, bold and beautiful
Freestyle is enough
We can ballet
Oh glorious presence
Beauty and grace refined
We can improvise
On a living room floor
Every style combined
We can watch
Absorbed in the majesty of human flight
Awash with the joy of life
And you my love
Can dance with me
Dance with me my wife
So, dance with me my partner
Hold me in your arms
And look into my eyes so deeply
You free me from all harm
We can dance
This week dVerse poetics is from Mish, about dance and dance we will. https://dversepoets.com/2024/01/30/poetics-may-i-have-this-dance/
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