The Idea

“#$%*”
:(
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,
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!
:)

Destination

It takes six of my friends to place me in a car,
My journey begins, I am the passenger.
They drive so slowly!

Half way there, eternity of travel,
A stop off. Six lift me out.
They chat, speak, sing…c’mon, c’mon, hurry up!

It takes six of my friends to place me in a car,
My journey continues, I am the passenger.
They drive so slowly!!

At last we arrive! Six lift me out,
My new home awaits, six lower me down,
The “ashes…” door “dust…” closes.

:(

Patience is a virtue.
A virtue that I lack.
Frustration sets in early,
And clambers up my back.

Frustration leads to anger.
A thing that possess’ I.
Why can’t I have patience?
Why oh why oh why!

Beginners Guide

So, to begin,
Buy a terrapin,
Pickle in gin.

Simpleton

Old monkey man looked sad,
He had grey hair, and grey sagging skin,
Fur long gone, he hides within multicoloured clothing,
Diamond pattern of reds yellows black and blues,
Topped of with a tri pointed, belled hat,
And soft, pointed shoes, with bells on their tip.
Only a discordant jangle and chittering laugh are his voice,
Too long away from trees, his once home,
No longer needed, no longer wanted,
Too far gone to notice the loss.
Old monkey man looked sad with incomprehension,
His age is done.

Sins of a Father

Dust of their passing,
Clung upon the fresh spring air,
Soft breeze pushing it about,
‘Cross white picket fence,
To mar still damp washing,
Hanging over newborn grass.

...

There they sit,
With what’s assumed to be,
Moronic grins.
Oblivious to the raging storms,
Staring at blue skies.

Adelaides Flower Poem

Flowers round a toadstool,
Flowers round a tree,
Flowers round a garden shed,
All of them for me.

Human Condition

Here I am!
I am here!!


So…


…what am I doing?

The Quest

Bumble, trundle, humping along,
Stopping to eat when hunger rises,
Subconsciously seeking that special haven,
A place to settle and prepare,
Searching, halting, munching,
Life revolving, never changing,
Bumbling, trundling, humping along.

‘Till under an oak, haven is found,
An end to bumbling, cessation of trundling,
Final gorging, satiating greater hunger.
Then out with the ropes,
Self binding, twisting, contorting,
Escapologist contrary,
Binding tighter and tighter, enshrouding the whole,
A haven within the haven without.

Time passes and changes are wrought,
Oak liberates its young, and soon after, its clothes,
Time passes, as time must.
Its unchanging march towards eternity’s end,
Delicate white water drifts from skies above,
To settle, then thaw, as Chronos steps forth,
‘Till a fresh suit is delivered to clothe oak once more.

Ropes fray, bindings loosen,
A brief struggle and freedom’s regained,
Resting, recuperating, under strong oak,
Never to trundle and bumble again,
But to flitter and flutter, resplendently nimble,
A new quest in mind,
To seek out a mate, cycle recycled.