The Risk
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Tag Archives: Poem
In Forests #02
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St Paul’s
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Springtime in Melbourne – new growth
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Trainspotting
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The sea, the sea
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Brown Falcon revisited #02
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Sun
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Digital Parking Meters
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The Australian Darter
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Tricks
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The Violent sky
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My poetry
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Half an hour
Half an hour
one forty eighth of each day
should be consistently allocated to the following practice
should be consistently adhered to at the expense of all other things
the undertaking of regular exercise
no matter what your age
this is a good use of your time
such that the time that is left to you
may well be longer
Secret
Can you keep a secret?
I wonder if you can?
You mustn't laugh!
You mustn't cry,
but do the best you can!
the word
‘so the peloton passed’ by Simon Armitage
If I breathed the word that disappeared all people in the world
leaving the world
to the world
would you say it?
would you sing it out loud?
'the word' by me (quite the coincidence)
If I quietly secretly speak to you the word of enchantment that can depopulate the entire planet of humankind
would you speak it loud to the wind that it would blow across every landscape cleansing the earth on its gusting breath,
would you set it free to ride the thermals such that it spirals up and down remixing balance into a newly fresh and transparent sky,
would you let it dive into the depths and immerse itself below the waves and placid surfaces of every body of water to de-litter and detoxify every single liquid drop?
would you mourn the loss of your brothers and sisters so that biodiversity can flourish and evolve uncorrupted once again?
would you speak such a word of power to return the world to Gaia, to Mother Nature’s control in the absence of every man and woman?
do you want to know that word?
will I tell it you?
will you speak it?
will you?
No?
Then I will.
If only houses could talk
Houses want speaking
From their roofs tales are leaking
They pass through the ceilings
Into the rooms
Drip down the walls
Pool on the floors
To flow under the doors
To listeners they are seeking
Something Good
I had a chance to do something good
someone was hurting so I thought I would
unusual for me cos I often lie or cheat
I don’t usually care much as long as the outcome my aims will meet
but for the first time I recognised true love and how a new outcome could be
more important than winning than more money more important than me
so I did something strange associated with feelings of anxiety and stress
unlike some others who willingly clean up another’s mess
likely easier for them because they’ve often been generous
likely harder for little me because generous is onerous
but truly I gave up a wish to seize yet another opportunistic chance
to benefit from another’s love lost by tragedy and mischance
so I gifted a stolen memento of deep love and romance
instead of using emotional blackmail for richer personal finance
ask yourself as I do what is the future for a con man like me
watch this space and watch your wallet to discover what you will or will not see
My poetry
My poetry will die with me
It will not be a painful death
Just one that runs out of breath
Father #01
In death
I learn of my father’s life
apparently a generous man
personable, sharing, reliable, a trusted friend
naive to human machinations, a happy and ever optimistic giver
he laughed in company with good humour and genuine pleasure
he aspired to making life better for people
when he met with individuals they felt his sincere interest and care
when they needed him he was always there
he encouraged others to act on their talent and supported them in becoming their very best
he encouraged them to think clearly be confident in their every quest
and so I now know my father better
alas, only in illness and death did we finally come together
The mesmerist
Does the mesmerist beguile a subject
by witchery
or is it a persona so attractive resistance is futile
an hypnotic charm
wrapped up in charisma so potent one succumbs
as does iron to the magnet
where at the right distance attraction becomes an irresistible command
I lie
With the perfect girl l lie
she’s beside me under the bluest blue sky
it’s for her favour I vie
tall tales I anxiously try
through me she spies
she denies and defies my lies
inside I die
she says if you want me don’t lie
on you I want to rely
be truthful or good bye
with joy I cry
I never wanted to lie
I was so scared she wouldn’t even try
to let me be her guy
I’m high
Other
On the other side of the fence
it was the alterity that surprised me
packed in close and dense
were a people the like I had never seen
their long black braids down to the waist
straight noble noses their faces graced
recessed brown eyes deep under heavy brows
dark olive skin and standing proud
their gaudy costumes coloured and loud
until you looked closer to see the signs of violence
they had suffered in our friendly so called “liberation”
I had wondered what that statement meant
and the shame I felt was deep and grew
the more I looked the more I knew
we would be responsible for their demise
because our friendly intentions were just a guise
and I could never see it otherwise
now
damn my eyes
Talk
I want to talk
talk talk talk
I want to talk
talk talk talk
oh will you talk
talk talk talk
oh will you talk
talk talk talk
why won’t you talk
talk talk talk
why won’t you talk
talk talk talk
we need to talk
talk talk talk
we need to talk
talk talk talk
or else I walk
walk walk walk
or else I walk
walk
wa
lk
w
a
l
k
.
.
.
.
. . . . . . . . . .
away
When you cry (about living with a loved one who lives with depression)
Even if I sometimes manage to help to ease the pain
anytime you might start again
with rivers of tears like acid rain
eating at everything good again
I love you and I don’t know what you’re going through
but my love remains true
you can still see it,
can’t you?
when you cry fouled rivers run
the darkest shadows cross the sun
cyclone clouds further blacken the day
the very rainbows turn themselves to grey
the sun finally puts it’s light away
for you the whole world turns to bleak anxiety and fear
empty of hope and cheerless
the sadness is so deep and so near
so profound it breaks my heavy weather beaten heart
as icy words you shoot at me
feel needle like poisoned darts
this melancholy is so wretched it puts our life on hold
I don’t know what to do
how to bring you in from the cold
but I will keep trying and in my safe warm wings
you I will still enfold
poetography.ink 