make more colour
my little flowers
for the world
is becoming bleaker
its complexion darker
we must not
let the darkness win
how can I help you
put more colour
back into the world
my little flowers?
flowers
2
Tag Archives: hope
Trust, hope and happiness
“Our hearts long to trust and be trusted.” Karl Jaspers.
What is the human world without trust? It is a world of lies and deceit that has lost its common purpose. Only in sharing the truth can there be trust. Without trust there can be no hope, no true happiness.
Every one of us seeks trust. If we feel we can no longer find it in our leaders or institutions, we must seek it out in each other. It is there we will find trust, hope and happiness.
Water
I searched for the river to slake desperate thirst I thought it was somewhere around here I thought I smelled water but I remained cursed every turn brought simply more tears I toiled through the scrub on my knees as a first I soon began to smell fear the dry of my throat and my eyes were the worst but I still felt there was water around here my effort was flagging my heart fit to burst lost I scrambled and crawled for life dear then I heard a tinkle with cracked lips pursed I stopped to listen and peer was I tricked, in illusion immersed? no, there a gleam through the woods did appear and I rose and I ran and the wild things dispersed as I charged and leapt logs like a deer all the pain and the doubt that I had nursed vanished like fog from a weir disappeared in that moment I felt myself blessed I found water deep, cool and clear and I dived right in, water up to my chin I drank and rejoiced in the swim and I swore in that water that life giving elixir no wrong would I e’er do again
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
Growing old together
Growing old together, our life has indeed got better.
As our bodies steadily decline, get sensitive to the weather.
We find our ways to appreciate the world in which we live,
we try to do some good things, together we try to give.
Our children look as happy, as we can hope they might be.
Our grandchildren delight, us with growth and learning daily.
Our homes are all comfortable, if certainly nothing flash.
We make some time for entertainment and culture, when we have the cash.
Our love is as joyful as ever it was, I hope you will agree,
we take each day on its merits as I grow old with thee.
With hugs to start each day and then to say good night,
there’s something still going on between us, certainly something right.
I still pinch myself when we’re together, to make sure I’m not dreaming.
I don’t wake up because it’s real, no fantasy of dreams and seeming.
We look forward to time together, look after each other, give each other time and space.
A recipe for enduring success, not one you can replace.
Your kisses still sweet, your touch still electric, there’s still more for us to look forward too.
For our remaining time, while I’m still yours and you’re still mine, everything is fine.
I did it for my babies
I sobbed while I banged my head on the dock
I lit the fuse tick tock tick rock
With nowhere to go I ran amok
because I knew no one gave a fuck
and my children died inside the conflagration
while outside I died as a witness stationed
to watch this act as the ultimate martyr
from lover to mother to miserable failure
now my babies don’t suffer anymore don’t you see?
their loss was my hope for my babies three
their release from torment my relief and my grief
I their life giver corrupter and thief
I scratched at the doors where help is the word
I pleaded for help and not one cry was heard
I make no further excuses for this desperate crime
judge me oh judge me and I’ll do my time
but I urge you who judge to stop and reflect
on the festering harm of abuse and neglect
on how absence of care equals opportunity cost
from pitiful existence my babies were lost
Translucence
She was translucent in that you could see her much as you could see anyone else in the reflected light of the sun. But even more so because that very light, the light of the sun, seemed to penetrate her flawless fair skin as if the silky smooth surface was entirely opaque. It gave her a subtle inner incandescence, slightly phosphorescent with those self emitting hints of blues and greens that warmly peaked in her eyes and the waves of cascading hair. Her teeth showed it gently sparkling through in a radiant white smile, as did her fingernails and earlobes adorning hands and face with beckoning ripples of a delicate halo. Also, it appeared to come out the other side of her as a a soft white aura. One that flowed behind her like a short comet tail. Present, but never quite seen. Gently wavering before your eyes fully caught on. A ripple across space. In such a way you knew of its definitive presence despite its elusiveness. Everyone wanted to know her. Absolutely, and me more than most. She gave me a feeling of desperate hunger - for what I could never be quite sure. It felt like I could be satisfied with just ..... a look from those penetrating eyes, a touch with those sensuous long fingers, any form of acknowledgement. However, I also recognised unreality when I saw it. In reality I wanted everything she would never give and that scared the shit out of me. For a long time I had longed for her from afar. Drained of other interests, preoccupied with dreams of passionate love and warm companionship. Yet whenever I got close I found I had only a faded shadow of myself to offer. Dulled. Stultified by her imposing mien. Standing in a dark space she exuded a glowing presence. Her very own unique light. Standing in a light space she somehow overcame the ambient lux with her very own lustre. She could not be unseen. So, I watched from a distance instead. The best thing I could ever have done as I saw one friend, champion, lover, partner, suitor and sycophant after another get irreparably burned. Scorched to the point of disfigurement by a desirable body and a vital heart, a quick brain and a ruthless mind, an unsolvable enigma beyond anybody’s ken. Eventually, I understood that for all the attraction of that internally lit, beautiful, vibrant, illuminated woman, her translucence meant no matter how close you got, no matter how hard you tried, no matter what you applied - I and no one else could or would ever see into her, just right through to the other side. This was an infatuation I would survive, but even today, years later, the mystery, the hope, the longing, the anticipation and speculation have never fully subsided.
3 Good Things Only #08
1 Waiting for a baby, then hearing her cry for the first time, seeing her early at the breast, knowing everything is going to be OK.
2 Feeling grateful for the loving, informed, proactive and justifiably proud parents.
3 Learning that even though locked out you can still immediately bond with your newly emerged granddaughter on FaceTime as she sprawls across her mother’s chest in search of a second breast. Her purposeful efforts encouraging, her fresh ruddiness a healthy glow, her determined expression inspiring, her chubby robustness endearing, her tiny hands already reaching out to the world. She personifies a truth, where there is life there is hope.
Fledglings of fear
The dawning was a slow one we were fledglings of fear victims of illness, Children of Lir Number 1 was long strong. Her job to protect. Strong for a long while, until proven imperfect. Number 2 was a mess, times hard as hard for that little girl, our fractured shard. Number 3 was me. Death to the fiddle! Hate for love. None in the middle. Number 4 was Baby, always our most precious. Watching and suffering, the indiscriminate malice. Mother was mad as mad could be. Inside we knew, outside, none could see. House to school school to house all running scared each quiet as a mouse. Freezing bath water, heads held down. Gasping for breath. No sound, lest you drown. Smothered in cereal, honey as glue, naked on the floor kicked black and blue. We lost our only friend. Older sister on the verge. Took flight literally. Our life and death dirge. To young to know. To young to do. I first noticed the down while cowering, we few. Necks stealthily extended, to get a better view of punishment to come, forewarned by cue. Heads tucked under wings, to avoid each other’s pain. Our wings were getting stronger unobserved by our bane. Three remaining cygnets together finding voice seeking strength together, a transformative choice. Reddened eyes were normal, the feathers came next. Black, as our experience lengthened our graceful necks. Then came time to speak with red bloodied beaks making plaintive warning sounds ugly ducklings began to sneak. Eventually, we broke out of bounds, braved an outside world, the hurt, the rage, the hopelessness, to unravel and unfurl And when we told our story, of years of abuse and neglect, no one knew a thing out of privacy respect. Together we remain fragile. Together we remain strong. Together we mourn our sister. Grief upon hope upon wrong upon wrong. For Sinead O’Connor. Strathbogie poetry #strathbogiepoetry
Karl Jaspers – a very brief, very relevant reminder from the past.
A summary of Karl Jaspers’ writing, “Sunk in the noise of nationalism and technology, people become intellectually and emotionally stifled, stuck. The crowd rules. Slogans and rhetoric pass for meaningful conversations”. Marietta McCarthy, How philosophy can save your life. Penguin Australia 2009.
What have we learnt? A German survivor of the first and second world wars, Jaspers was an early 20th century philosopher. He still speaks to us with relevance, as if alive today. Nationalism is destructive. Those who seek advantage through manipulating others naive enough to follow blindly, to adopt the slogans of ill considered electronic media and rally to the flags of puppet masters – will be perpetrators of great harm.
However, Jaspers was not without hope. “Amidst discussion, a silence is possible in which people may listen together and hear the truth.”
Are we still able to effectively hear the truth, to discover and explore the scant remaining silence? Or have we sunk so deep into the swamp of nationalism and the noise of technology to be beyond positive, constructive, truth seeking communication?
You know where I’m going with this (short version)
This weekend I organised the second annual “Strathbogie has SPOKEN” event. We had 22 presenters and an audience of 50-60. This number pretty well filled our small, and acoustically delightful venue, St Andrew’s Church in Main Street. It was a seamless and fascinatingly diverse set of orations that made the two hours fly by. I kicked things off with a shortened version of the political piece below, which I wrote last year. It felt good to give written work air!
you know where I’m going with this
to the crush of high density and population growth
my oath
you and me both
with the new city millions that come
to the bustle and hum
to the high tensile strums
of the energy guns
at our heads
pay the bills or family fed?
that is the question we dread
as executive bonuses build mansions and poseurs
as the export of gas ups the home prices real fast
and don’t talk to me about electricity duplicity
so mean to me
these corporate utilities
fat cats
and multinats
squeeze me til I’m dry
then have another try
so my life is a scythe
cut the stress with a knife
kiss goodbye to the wife
and the kids and the love that I loved
for love’s sake
it’s a home bake
you know where I’m going with this
to parliament house
the joint of no nouse
of no brain
of no gain
where celebrity reigns
where the state of the nation equates with fashion
our political ration gets smaller and smaller
as narcissism, self-interest and recidivism ism their way to the fore
we want more
no!
they want more
no yore
just more
for the future is now a cash cow to be milked at the fence
of public expense
as the full and the fat suck at the teat
for the treat
of squeezed taxpayers sweet forming rivers of milk
and honey
or is it money?
pouring forth from a new scam
that’s rude
derived from ineptitude
it may be batts
it may be courses
they may be entrepreneurs
but they’re on the horses
bolted
after the gates have closed
you know where I’m going with this
to the US beholden
superpower
olden
folding the flag
turning for home
in the gloaming of their watch
withdrawing notch by notch
uncertain where the crotch of the matter lies
or whether their power even applies
exerting pressure as trade plies
but no so sure regarding human rights
and the rise
of the stateless states
the unreliable mates
the dates that became rapes
where the bright promising spring
quickly winged
to a cold dark winter
on the sling of David
and the Saudi flings
the belated failings
where democracy no longer sings
you know where I’m going with this
away from paradise lost
from the costs
from the Fausts
from the oppressive hosts
from the submerging coasts
to the ghosts of the past
rewritten to last
where my heart listens for hope in the sparks of principles sublime
not bereft
but to the time I have left in the cleft between life and death
in hope of nurture
in the sweet natural wealth of transparency ….. before stealth
you know
you know
you know where I’m going with this
33 kinds of rain
The misting rain as light as being
The pitter patter rain of anticipation
The sun shower rain of joyfulness
The dawn lit rain of new awakenings
The driving rain of persistent harassment
The piercing rain of pain and hurt
The bleak rain of uncertainty
The saturating rain of grief
The pounding rain of anger
The cold rain of fear and loathing
The persistent rain of melancholy
The drought breaking rain of celebration
The tropical rain of surprise and relief
The tin roof rain of night time snuggles
The slanting rain of getting under your skin
The fat wet rain of things to come
The dull rain of misery
The easing rain of hope for a day
The sheeting rain of washing your sins away
The aerosol rain that never settles
The eddying rain of indefinite endings
The ominous rain of growing darkness
The thunder laden rain of shock and fear
The storm driven rain of nature’s authority
The drenching rain of no escape
The floating rain of disproportionate outcomes
The harrowing rain of oppression and spite
The lightning flash rain of vision burned
The unexpected rain of scrambling for shelter
The flooding rain of tears
The icy rain of an unknown future
The sleety rain of chilled to the bone
The sunlit rain of clarity of purpose
The dancing rain of swirling possibilities
The evening rain of contemplation
The elemental rain of fundamental outcomes
The cloaking rain of secrecy
The wispy rain of dissipation
The hard rain of death
The transparent rain of release
The soft rain of peace
poetography.ink 