nature

Blue Jay

He visits me in the mornings
and late afternoons,
this Blue Jay.
He sits in the branch of the tree
outside my window and
sings sweetly, mellifluously.
His feathers are a palette
of blues and whites:
a deep ocean mixed
with piercing blue skies
and fluffed up clouds.

He visits me in the mornings
and late afternoons,
this Blue Jay.
I give him some food
and put out some water.
He loves the water –
washes himself with it,
ruffles up his feathers
and shakes the water all over him:
he always makes me smile.

He visits me in the mornings
and late afternoons,
this Blue Jay.
He is the beauty among the chaos
in my world, in this world,
but each day he renews my hope.
When I see him sitting there
my heart swirls
and life doesn’t seem so meaningless.

He visits me in the mornings
and late afternoons,
this Blue Jay.
I hope he never leaves
and keeps coming back
to sing his sweet songs
to satisfy my heart that longs.

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Today & Tomorrow

For O.H.

Glasses smashing against this tall wall:
sharp shrapnel pieces
pierce the air, make bleed.
Screams echo forever in this dark hall,
even the pale moonlight refuses to shine through
and trees outside collapse without cause.
Burning cheeks from assaulting eyes;
stabbing knives twisting inside.
No sleep, only interrupted silence.

Silence interrupted no longer.
Waves lap gently caressing fine sands;
crystal water cooling and calm.
Sunlight swirling and dancing delightfully
onto glistening droplets of water on skin –
tanned and silky from loving hands.
Noah’s white dove, olive leaf in beak, glides
all around and everything is at peace:
an upward curve on your face, a delightful crease.

Constellations of Thought

He stares out of the misty window
into the fogged, greying world
illuminated and sliced open
by one warm Moonbeam of Hope.
Cruising down this Highway Avenue of Life –
the nostalgic Music filling the voids left behind
by the chemical wars fought inside –
he is at ease.

His blue eyes stretch beyond infinities of Sky…
His glossy gaze meets the Moon’s Rays
of Hope in this bumper-to-bumper world:
a Constellation of nine Stars smile brightly
through the darkness of space
as they frame the Moon’s Secretive Smile.
It is here –
in the Honeymoon of his Thoughts –
that he finds the Mysteries of the Moon’s Beauty
tucked away neatly in a Pocket of Sky.

His Thoughts are held together by his five star Mind,
found dancing in the Moonlight of Inspiration,
as his body is showered in his tears
with a ceiling of glittering Stars staring down.
His sadness is blown away with the withered words of hurt
he releases from his Mind,
like a thunder-cloud that releases its darkness
to create Newness.

Four-cornered gods of reflection dictating their insecurities
are reduced to simple stardust in the Moon’s Fire
which ignites his Mind
making real, through word, the Daydreams of his Love.
He has one less problem of heartache tonight
as he lays his pain to rest in his marshmallow lined thoughts
in the creative cloud-mansion of his Future.

Our Memories

I walk down to the lonely stream –
The water is shining like the sun
And I sit on our big rock.
I feel you sit down next to me.

We used to throw pebbles,
Little pebbles at the fish.
The water reminds me of you –
It still glistens like your soul: clear and pure.

The wind gently rustles the reeds
And I know you’re there –
I can smell it,
Your spirit is in the fresh air.

I walk along the riverside
Feeling the sand under my feet
Remembering memories,
Knowing things happened too quickly.

Our tree still stands tall –
Beautiful and green with life.
I can see you perched in a branch
Right where you felt at peace.

Our little waterfall trickles softly…
I peer over and see my face – for a second –
Then blurred out by my tears…
Tears of joy that you’re happy now.

Misty Dreams

He wanders slowly through the
darkest purples of the forest.
The moon decides to hide behind
an indigo shy cloud.
The leaves beneath his feet
crunch as the filthy rats squeal and squeak.
Little fireflies chase the hidden light
as he chases his desires.
The weary wild wind invades the canopies
of slumbering life
causing an owl to shake its feathers.
He steps onward through the hanging vines,
past the cold shimmering river
shining ultraviolet in the mist of thought.
A howl of the weary wolf wakes
the night air.
He shivers slightly as his foot
is pieced by bones of an unfortunate prey.
His blood mixes with the dirt of his journey
as he slowly veers off nature’s path
right into the heart of his lover’s sight.

Conviction

conviction (n): a belief or opinion that is held firmly

He works for the cause
Knowing fully his potential
To follow in great footsteps.
But what is great?
A shining star
On the Walk of Fame?
To him it is a star
Cemented into
The Sand of Time:
Fossilised.
His works preserved in nature:
Wildlife.
That which we smothered
With our greedy gasses
And our lust for cha-ching.

Convicted by his conviction.
A conviction? – as in sentenced?
A convict?
Perhaps – to the prison of our destruction.
His uniform is stripped lands
Where trees once belonged…
His jail bars are acid rain and rising waters…
But like a Mandela he chooses to use his
Time behind bars for the good of all:

Sacrifice branded into his meatless diet;
He will no longer be prisoner one day,
And neither will his children
Because he had it:
CONVICTION.