Taken a bit later than sunrise cos i slept late.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Bus
A Bus passes through trees,
Lots of trees.
Through curves,
In tree’d mountains.
I see a village nestling down below
Surrounded and warmed,
By trees.
Outside of the bus the trees end
And a small town appears.
The bus stops
And schoolchildren with eyes still in bed
Board the bus.
Lots of trees.
Through curves,
In tree’d mountains.
I see a village nestling down below
Surrounded and warmed,
By trees.
Outside of the bus the trees end
And a small town appears.
The bus stops
And schoolchildren with eyes still in bed
Board the bus.
Now high
Small plains and valleys lie
Sweeping out as far as the eye can see.
More children at other small town,
And more trees.
Except for the driver
I am the only adult on the bus
And I am going to school also.
Ears pop
Still higher we go,
As high as the trees?
No, lower, always smaller.
Small plains and valleys lie
Sweeping out as far as the eye can see.
More children at other small town,
And more trees.
Except for the driver
I am the only adult on the bus
And I am going to school also.
Ears pop
Still higher we go,
As high as the trees?
No, lower, always smaller.
A weak yellow suns grows and grows
In the morning sun
Promising
A new and glorious day.
Now at the top
No other way but down,
And down we go through the remains
Of a hurricane.
Bald patches scar the woods
Matchstick like piles of
Used to be trees.
More curves,
Downwards
More trees
Standing.
And in the soft sun
The bus stops.
All aboard dismount and go their separate ways
To the school behind the trees.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Friday, October 13, 2006
Sunday
Sunday starts with trees
And a humid heat
Hanging in the morning air.
Trodden paths
Leading?
A golfer,
Golf lady,
Puts
And puts
Three whites and a yellow.
Big snooker table?
Sweat running
Heart pumping fast.
Out of breath
And my muscles, my muscles…
And only walking.
Girl on a Train.
Maybe she sleeps on the wind
Held in the arms of the breeze,
Warmed by the touch of his breath
Caressed by the fluid movements of air.
Maybe she smiles at the pleasure of his touch
Laughs at the joy in his eyes
Sighs again and again
At the sweet wind.
Held in the arms of the breeze,
Warmed by the touch of his breath
Caressed by the fluid movements of air.
Maybe she smiles at the pleasure of his touch
Laughs at the joy in his eyes
Sighs again and again
At the sweet wind.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Soldiers of Stone.
Cliffs,
Rocks.
Soldiers of Stone
Stand and watch over
A small town
On the northernmost tip of the black forest.
A small river
Runs,
Flows,
Enjoys the view
Of small town people
And vanishes
Through a rich valley
Of luscious fields
Surrounded by tired mountains.
Weekends see
Visitors from the City
Enjoying
Their Coffee and Cream Cake
And perhaps a small walk.
Old people watch the young
And the young, the old.
Guests watch everything
But see only themselves.
Still
The Soldiers stand.
Still
The river flows.
As still as time.
Rocks.
Soldiers of Stone
Stand and watch over
A small town
On the northernmost tip of the black forest.
A small river
Runs,
Flows,
Enjoys the view
Of small town people
And vanishes
Through a rich valley
Of luscious fields
Surrounded by tired mountains.
Weekends see
Visitors from the City
Enjoying
Their Coffee and Cream Cake
And perhaps a small walk.
Old people watch the young
And the young, the old.
Guests watch everything
But see only themselves.
Still
The Soldiers stand.
Still
The river flows.
As still as time.
Only thoughts move down the valley,
Each one as seldom as the last,
Each one a masterpiece.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Me Bike.
Me bike,
Rides the paths of glory.
I just sit and watch the scenery,
(The greenery,) as it goes by.
And it goes by, very quick,
Me bike us slick.
It’s a quick bike, and a slick bike.
La la la la la la ,
Me bike.
La la la la la la,
Me bike.
Me bike doesn’t have a beard,
Although its male,
Bikes don’t have beards,
That’s weird.
Rubber tyres ride tarmac and dirt,
For miles and miles,
He doesn’t mind,
He said so.
La la la la la la, me bike….
Me bike rides the paths of glory,
I just sit and watch the scenery,
As it goes by,……..
(la la la la la la, me bike…)
Morning Train.
The morning train is full.
Faces deep in sleep,
Still deep in the day before.
Some fight to wake,
Others still enjoy the pleasant warmth of dreams.
Heads nod and slip sideways,
Then quickly straighten up.
"Who me?, no never".
Signs pass, tanoy calls,
Brain sends message,
"Body rise, legs quick march".
Outside the train
More faces still in sleep.
Monday, October 02, 2006
May Song
1.
Grass grows high in the morning sun.
Wild flowers dance in a soft wind.
Insects and other flying things
Skip from flower to flower content.
It's wonderful to be alive.
2.
An apple tree stands,
Its branches green with moss,
The bark has silver shadows
Touching brown scars.
Blossoms have now faded,
Long gone,
To make way for the fruit
That hang like eggs.
A buzzard floats in a distant sky,
It soars and sweeps on the wind
Looking for prey.
It dives,
Down, down, down,
And strikes.
3.
The sun is warm now
And shadows scarce.
Serenity settles like a cloak.
Beams of light play tricks on the eyes,
Senses active and awake.
It's so good to be alive, it's so good to be alive, it's so good to be alive.
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