My Favourite Poem at this moment

Neil Hilborn created a wonderful, edgy, lost love poem called "OCD".

I just wanted to share it here, because I love it!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vnKZ4pdSU-s

Queen Nor'wester

Queen Nor’wester

She starts small

Tousling the hair of rugby children on a Thursday afternoon

Flinging washing onto the drive, pegs strewn like grass clippings

Bustling leaves off mazes of autumn vines
Kissing ponds into lipsticked white horses

In the evening she shows her teeth

Whipping through macrocarpa hedges

Her tail lashing trampolines to death

Her hot breath dehydrating pasture to stone and dust
She dances in stilettos on the corrugated iron roof

Come twilight she inhales

Ready for the big one

Now she opens her mouth and roars

Shaking sheds from their foundations

Pulling gates out of the farmer’s hand

Yanking trees by their roots to play pick up sticks
Her sharp fangs bite through powerlines

She is the firestarter
Supreme Ruler of the plains

Queen of the Northwest

ANZAC Day 2016

The Poppy – Anzac Day 2016

If I were a poppy, tall, red and proud,

Plucked from a small tuft of land,

I would wish

To be the one,

To grace the distant shores

Where men and women  gather,

In memorial and celebration,

Of those small moments

Which made the difference,

By laying that one poppy

It’s black, keen eye open towards the morning sunshine,

In remembrance.

Alberts poem about fog

Albie brought this home today and I am so proud of him

Anzac Day 2014

Anzac Day 2014

I stood in the sun today

a cool breeze in my hair

Honouring the memory

Of men I have never met

Their hair was full of sand and grit

I have no way to know if the sun shone

on their doomed push

up a beach that no-one had heard of

A shore that meant not much to anyone

Except the local villagers

Who despaired at the boats

The guns, the battle on their shore

The aircraft streaming overhead

For what?

So that I can stand in the sun

Enjoying the cool wind in my hair

With my small children at my side

And honour those men with sadness and pride

In a small village that not many have heard of

But which I call home

Hope

Just a glimpse in the corner of my eye
A retina imprint, a slice of sparkly light
Occasionally caught off guard
Among clouds of salt that mist the vision
Private night tears, unseen in bright sun
I dare, and take the challenge
Chasing the daylight stars
Splinters of light piercing my head
Up the pebbled beach
Over the bracken covered shore-hills
To the tussocked hill tops
And catch the sunshard in my hand

The Foreigner

Though storm and calm both overcome
Or murky channels hide
Plotting his course, steadfast and true
His warm heart open wide
Why then does he lonely stand
His maps in ciphers speak
The stony wheel resist his hand
The lodestone fail to seek

One hundred days and more he's tried
To reach the greening shore
It wavers tempting lines of hills
But the mirage eludes him more
On land his hopes and dreams were built
His blood it runs of old
Down bracken tufted river silt
And rocky cliffs so cold

See, there he played when life was young
When grass was tall as trees
And giant steps round worlds were run
It's scars but scabs on knees
Now stranded in this iron boat
His scare'd dreams do ride
While on the wind strange tongues cry out
"My God?" to silent skies

Sept 2000