I have been writing poems for ages. Some are ok, some need more work. I try to put a few of the finished ones here. Enjoy.

As usual if you have any feedback or comments happy to hear them! Here is a button to a form for that! 

Birth

Hold your whirling host

in my Gaia centre.

I touch the edges where hope

remembers history.

Recast in my mothers

straitened frame the way

of tomorrow's steps; I

push into the world with an image,

partly foreseen,

partly uncharted

Each thought meshed. 

Plain speaking, slow

careful. Like approaching

birds of song, more twitching

than tweeting.

Easy speech like deep sea divers peering into the sketches left on dry land.

Ready to fly, to drop the tasty morsel

at early hint of angst, wings a quiver.

What next: a promise, a future

hugged close, daring to breath its

nearness, its shimmer of promise.

Time to pick, to choose, to

bring a harvest home to nuture.

A note issues, clear red lines

not for crossing, rough tide lines of

floating freedoms permitted.

The notes not shrill, but sharp

and direct, crystal.

Encouraged diversity, allowed

and accepted limits. Pushed expectations

of joint and several future.

A ballad of variety

like a spring song from a wild hedgerow.

Look for an emotional tipping point;

slide past shrill risks, open

opportunities to a future shared

in peace and warbled promises, realistic

and contained whispered hums of greater

returns than a deep breathing aviary.

Is this the aria- to tip into the future

a barrel of old tragedies, to sing the song of

small birds, constant, dawn greeting. 

To await the new notes of romance of joy to find their

voice, to build harmony over discord.

To allow hope to beat and outbeat and beat and beat

and finally, joyfully to out-sing experience.

In The Relationship.

Danish Marie

Strong and brave in the strife

of a "no bed of roses early life"

so few years have passed her by

with stories and moments to make one cry

Braver than the sun she fills the sky

with superstar power light, flying by

Her morning smile fills the room

Each passing smile calling her back soon

Feeling high on a slope

leading to a world of hope

where a morning smile lasts all day, mile after mile

long legs stretch and shine

with health and beat in time

to the rhythm of the song

her hand says her life will be long 

Shortest Sun Day

Watery, pale, like late season milk

Low in the sky, thin, strands of silk.

Our Blue Planet rolls, turns away

The cold spreads, chills the clay.

Climbing up daily, easing itself higher.

Spreading warmth like a crackling fire.

Cold clay warms, probing roots strive

Weekly into nooks and crannies, alive.

Higher brighter it climbs, arcing the sky

Green shoots and leaves peep and try

looking up. Feeling the nutrient heat,

Seeking hope like a spring lambs bleat. 

Bolivia

Wrinkles laid upon Wrinkles, 

Yet still fine lines show the roots

Of more still to come, if time

Permits.

Tendrils spreading curling hugging 

growing as they feed on laughter.  

A feast of food found 

in the folly of everyday fun.

Drips trip and gather,  pushing and joking, 

 moving along and adding.

Each looks around happier to be in a ripple.

The lines cross and grow, 

patching the years, 

 stitching the momentous moments 

to each other and to the mind.

Memories intertwine. 

Celebrated on the gappy gums

 of the native Indian. 

To shake your hand was a gift

 but conquistadors took hands and heads 

proving their Christianity

Off she went chuckling 

at the nonsense of the missions

 coming to teach

 and spread the word 

of love of Jesus.

Early winter

The leaves crack and crackle.

The echoes drag through the heap.

Leaves sloughed from the bough.

Hearkening strong summer

scorching sun.

(Her voice is baritone now. It hustles

huskily as the inhalation

of hundreds of cancer sticks

lowers its tone.)

Teasingly tickled into a twisted tower

by a treacherous north wind.

Forlorn, skeletal shapes curl up.

Once proud, arched, throaty spine

versing the light- from early

dawn to late sultry night.

(Overreaching octaves tittering,

throat twitching at the tormented

raw sound, scratchy, bare),

Both shaded a better life

Held a note, a sunny position.

Now mere adumbration

For worms. Silent

struck, but still giving.

Zurich Das Gross Zee

The See appears to lean away

 from the line and at the next bend

 leans in again.

Just as bikers do on a long run

riding arm on other shoulder,  leaning in,

chatting along at chain tickling pace.

Comfortable with each other

Knowing a slip will flip

them both into a carbon framed mix 

of blood,  skin and grit.

Each must trust in nature and nurture

taking and giving

But mostly

holding the line.

The slick silent steel

Built by earlier adventurers

Grappling

Hauling

Taming

And making a place where

smooth speed flits. ( I miss the clickety click)

If not serene

then:

at least,

calm.

Distance- Poem

Distance

She sat on the green felt

Beside the bicycle built

For 2. He on the phone

Legs astride.  She cried.

Maybe weeped. A 20 year

Old beauty. A car horn beeped.

Physical pain? Perhaps. They had

Crested a 50 m climb.

Emotional? Surely, as romantic

Dreams met gravity, and male

Physicality. His phone responded,

Sounding the end of their together.   

Four Million Z- Poem

Four Million  Z

Four million screens light and fingers type

“I love you, stay safe”.

The shaken fingers, pray, and push send

Hoping for a reply from a shelter

A bath, a cellar

Any sign or symbol will do.

The hand cupped screen in the noise

And fear of untreated terror 

Glimmers. Male tears flow.

What to reply?

‘I’m fine, see you soon’.

The yellow and blue blooms low.

Z type in lines of code, and double checks

The coordinates match those ordered by peaked hats.

They hit end, ohs and ones flow.

Z fingers start again to enter the x and y

That will make their Z fly.

To blow the wards and worlds of millions apart.

Four million fingers wipe a tear

And lean in again to find work, a home,

a school, just peace, safe but near.

Habana

sounds pound

ground

in the mounds of earth

of the relics

as colonial columns

stand in disarray

White gowns flow

around the curves

and over the pink of

Los carros cinquientos

his machonista stands at rest

yet alpha. hair slicked

back, black sun beamed.

beats bumble the air

gleefully bouncing the histoire

and rebounding to song

aires sin revoluccion

the pride of it all

his Cuba his mujere

the island of pride

defending with heart

Blocks of bits and bytes - Poem

Blocks of bits and bytes

I’m not cash crazy as I was before

There was a time, note owning marked my score.

E Wallet filled with coins deep, in lieu

Of greenbacks. We hunted bit-coins new

Seeking unhacked bits and bytes. Miners hiss

At central bankers sight, it ends like this.

Techno nerds mine more and more in chilly huts

Built on oily watts. Burning gas like common sluts.

Early Winter- Poem

Early winter

The leaves crack and crackle.

The echoes drag through the heap.

Leaves sloughed from the bough.

Hearkening strong summer

scorching sun.

(Her voice is baritone now. It hustles

huskily as the inhalation

of hundreds of cancer sticks

lowers it tone.)

Teasingly tickled into a twisted tower

by a treacherous north wind.

Forlorn, skeletal shapes curl up.

Once proud, arched, throaty spine

versing the light- from early

dawn to late sultry night.

(Overreaching octaves tittering,

throat twitching at the tormented

raw sound, scratchy, bare),

Both shaded a better life

Held a note, a sunny position.

Now mere adumbration

For worms. Silent

struck, but still giving.

Crack on- Poem

Crack on

I could write from the standard

point of view. The terawatt lightning flash

followed a milli second later by the shock

wave thunder-clap. Discordant cymbal clash

and thunder bash just out of time to

the stroboscopic light. Wise students

of physics recall that sound travels

slower than light. Elapsed time

between the two gives a clue

of the distance between storm and you.

But I’d rather scribble of my dog-

how she shivered in fear at natures

flash-bang growling discharge of raw power.

Woken from her dream of

slow rabbits and fat mice in country

fields- free of electric wire, stomping bulls and 

curious horses. Her blonde-red legs

wagon wheeling as she is nose down,

hot on the smell hoovered into

her sixty thousand scenting nerves.

She sneaks under the hundred-year-old bed

on haunches to hear the rain deluge down.

Quantum Nature- Poem

Quantum Nature

The leaves are stripped as sun declines

The dark is here. It is wintertime.

Great bears beat the fishy pool

Their feast was poor. Toxins rule.

Heavens big bang lights a storm,

Nature’s X-rays. Enriched DNA form

species new, they wiggle in the stew

Hydra headed. More COVID flu?

Crawly creepy bugs make us grind

To your intent; children eaten blind.

The brightest of the best survive

In space retreat, they cannot hide.

Layers of quark complexity in

quantum time unfolds. Nature scolds.

Our synapses fill the electric space

brought online. A curated human race.

We cannot stop this Musky tale

It will reach an end, he cannot fail.

Natures Song- Poem

Natures song

Slowly, slowly, the patter of drops

stirs the flora with its slow

sublime, silent rhythm. Plants

sigh quietly as the heavier beat gently

bends their leaves. They breathe deep

to inhale life-giving moisture after

the drain of 36-degree days.

Flies hatch in rock star numbers

in the heat. They zing under roof overhangs,

cling to dry walls, and zoom through

every floral opening. Haunting, hunting, male,

sex-mad, riffing their 10-day life in

buzzing desperation as they mate for one

time to assure- future fly surround sound.

Pigeons, wood and country fat, call back

One with another, chanting in wet boughs.

A hoot-hoot performance before leaping to crack

flap wings. They air-flute a rainbow-like arch,

proud and impressive grey notes carving

against the blue sky. A crescendo before the

sun-burn whoosh of Sirocco, Ghibli, or Xlokk.

Pluto visits the Long White Cloud -Poem

Pluto visits the Long White Cloud

Pluto over the Moon

The Long White Cloud stays cool

Not just a smile, a Kia Ora, a smiling jewel

Sights of nature to drop your jaw – Aotearoa

Not just service, care and comfort

All that and conversation too!

A place of beauty

Like a baby burping on a breast.

A connected feeling, all who live hear

That at this end of the world, here

is the best best place to be.

A place of joy

Like a silver salmon spliiting the sun.

Safe, to belong, to live life free.

To face trials and strife

That bubble through life.

A place of hope

Lile a dog retrieving a stick.

Kiwis resolve with fun and reason

overcome with joy they roll

in the flow of season.

Like the power

Of synchronised swimers pulsating pulse.

The moon reflects the sun,

Pluto rolls on

New Zealand will never be done.

Like the glory

Of a young whale breaching.

Plain speaking, slow

careful. Like approaching

birds of song, more twitching

than tweeting.

Easy speech like deep sea divers peering into the sketches left on dry land.

Ready to fly, to drop the tasty morsel

at early hint of angst, wings a quiver.

What next: a promise, a future

hugged close, daring to breath its

nearness, its shimmer of promise.

Time to pick, to choose, to

bring a harvest home to nuture.

A note issues, clear red lines

not for crossing, rough tide lines of

floating freedoms permitted.

The notes not shrill, but sharp

and direct, crystal.

Relationship

Encouraged diversity, allowed

and accepted limits. Pushed expectations

of joint and several future.

A ballad of variety

like a spring song from a wild hedgerow.

Look for an emotional tipping point;

slide past shrill risks, open

opportunities to a future shared

in peace and warbled promises, realistic

and contained whispered hums of greater

returns than a deep breathing aviary.

Is this the aria- to tip into the future

a barrel of old tragedies, to sing the song of

small birds, constant, dawn greeting. 

To await the new notes of romance of joy to find their

voice, to build harmony over discord.

To allow hope to beat and outbeat and beat and beat

and finally, joyfully to out-sing experience.

In The Relationship.