Net

April 20, 2015 at 7:55 pm | Posted in Poem | Leave a comment
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I was in the Abyss
Beyond the Precipice
Hurtling Hellwards
At Terminal Velocity.

Behold! A line!
Cast from the Edge.
By my Friends.
To save me.

A farrago.
A tissue of truths.
Motley.
Harlequin.
Cobbled together with Love.

All my tears.
Frozen by stares.
Give support.

Threads of conversation.
Seeds of thought.
Sprouted like Velcro.
Stick to my clothes.

Halting my descent.

Echoes of laughter.
Gild the frozen crevice.
Denying my solitude.

This fragile NET,
Slave to Belief –
Yet I am held.
Defying Fate.
And Death.

Like Fishermen they haul;
Giving their all.
To save their minnow
From the Deep.

Twice born.
Ever humbled.
My new life.
Starts today.

Thank you.

Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.

One hand

April 19, 2015 at 2:30 pm | Posted in Poem | 2 Comments
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We used to have a pile of friends;

we’d count ‘em on ten limbs.

But Time’s thalidomide’s cut in –

the ranks have rather thinned.

20 years have passed us by

(we saw them just last week).

Two sheep from ten hairy goats;

a chaff from 15 wheat.

So what I really wanna know,

if you’ve got time of day:

do I still join your happy few

and will you go my way?

Are we two pals who stay the course,

or will you turn me loose

to float off with your jetsam

when your star fleet hits the juice?

It’s me versus a hundred

as I await your call.

We used to love each other,

but love don’t conquer all.

Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.

Adam

February 3, 2010 at 4:06 pm | Posted in Poem | Leave a comment
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Photo by AlaskaTeacher

My goodly mate Adam

Was kindly and smart.

He had a big brain and

He had a big heart.

His IQ was thrice mine

Twice doubled and then

Paired with the first number

Plus three score and ten.

His spirit was open;

His largesse a crime.

He gave ten percentiles

Though he’d not a dime.

He moved through his life with

Attention and care.

He had all the fixings

He was all but there.

Yet ever so down in

The small of his back,

An unguarded portal

Open to attack.

A target for mean things

Like toothpicks and fluff

And burrs, glass and gravel

And other shite stuff.

Instead of a bandaid

Or maybe a shirt,

He twisted and strained to

Check out all these hurts.

This thing in its doing

Brought Adam to ground.

But when he arrived there,

Not a foe was found.

Ensconced in their bolt holes

Safe in their disguise.

They mocked and they jeered him

And bested his eyes.

Meanwhile the bright sunshine

Impatient to rest

Moved over the mountains

And on to the west.

Instead of a young man

With noble head high,

A hunched figure fretting

With bulldust and flies.

The day is not over.

The sun is not set.

There’s time yet to rise up

And over things get.

So stand to, young soldier,

Thy head from the sand.

Your heart and your brain seek

To know this fine land.

Press on ye regardless

Of everyday crud.

F*ck all of the numbnuts!

And go unto God.

[Visit AlaskaTeacher]

The Purple Juggling Ring

September 18, 2009 at 12:01 pm | Posted in Poem | 4 Comments
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Purple 

Jenny was juggling on our balcony on Sunday afternoon. 

Her three coloured rings spun through the air above her concentrated gaze.

Suddenly, she lost control and the purple ring landed on my empty Violet Crumble wrapper.

‘It’s an omen!’  I cried. 

Jenny looked, and understood.

Later, she was juggling again, and this time, the purple ring landed on a cushion. 

It, too, was purple!

We stared at the ring, at the cushion and at each other.

‘It’s an omen!’  she exclaimed.

‘Purple seeks purple!’  I shouted.

And we understood.

It was groovy.

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