The Web Poetry Corner
The Web Poetry Corner
Victor Harbor, South Australia, Australia
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Have you ever seen the Outback Sky at night,
With myriads upon myriads of stars burning bright?
So clear and close, it seems that you can almost touch,
And hold them, but then it seems too much.
To drink in the whole beauty of that view,
All at once, spreading from sky to earth, a sight so new,
That words cannot express the splendour there,
A carpet high, suspended in the air.
Galaxy upon galaxy, of brilliance, no matter where one’s eyes may roam ,
Filling the sky, an all encompassing dome,
No matter how you may twist and turn in any direction.
The display will cause you to catch your breath, without exception.
Without the stars, darkness would be complete,
A void, with no sense of form or place where sky
and earth do meet
They provide the definitions, that help to guide the eye,
To set parameters, for measuring space and distance by.
The desert sky scintillating, shining bright,
I know of nothing to compare with that brilliant sight,
In quietness there , with no noise to disturb the thought,
I can but marvel on the miracles that God’s handiwork has wrought.
The Terrorists Bomb
It explodes, the bomb that terrorizes,
A seconds silence, then the cries,
Of innocents, caught up in the blast,
And people look on all aghast.
Fire,smioke and rubble lall around,
Steel girders like twisted ribbon
on the grpund
A shattered building, shatterd dreams,
Mingled with the frantic screams.
People of all ages just enjoying life,
No hint of danger or of strife.
A safe haven or so we thought
A bitter lesson, cruely taught.
To what purpose this cowardly attack,
Reasons obscure, a cause it lacks,
Mayhem inflicted, on thse who share,
The plight of many, in an aim to scare.
And scare it does, to a certain extent,
But it also fosters a bitter resent,
In the hearts of those who are left behind
To mourn the victims of this crime.
All cowards who instigate these mad attacks,
Must suffer justice, that is a fact,
Not vengance mad, that comes to mind,
But punishment to fit the crime..
A daughters Tribute
I remember well the days when I was young,
And when I had those treasured moments just with Mum
Her hand would touch and stroke my hair
And we could just sit and be quiet there.
At times like this we could just quietly talk,
Just simple things, without much thought
Sharing together precious personal things
With that sort of peace that each one brings.
To a moment of quietness, which only true love brings,
Between mother and child and now I cling
To memories of too few times, we spent in ways together,
That brought to us such simple pleasure.
The years have gone and now just like my Mum
A family I have raised, and I have too become
Mum to children who have children of their of their own
Sharing with them, such rare delight s and so the years have flown.
So life goes on , as it should, we find fond instances of love,
Enjoyed throughout lifes rush and bustle and we can thank the Lord above
For loving moments shared, and each in turn, whisper softly.
I LOVE You Mum
Piccaninny daylight creeping through the trees,
Outlining them along the range, not even a tiny breeze.
Small birds they start to twitter, now just a tiny trill.
As the first rays of sunlight, start shining o'er the hill
The air is still and quiet, cold brisk with quite a chill,
Which is soon displaced by sunlight, marching down the hill,
A lonely crow is cawing sounding all forlorn
While Magpies start to carol, in the early morn.
Away down in the forest gully Kooka's laugh away
Adding their happy welcome to this dawning day
Dew like jewels of crystal reflecting through the grass,
Damp misty air arising gently, as the sunlight comes to pass..
I watch across the clearing as the sunlight warms the ground,
A rabbit comes from out his burrow and takes a look around,
Ears and nose a-twitching sniffing at the breeze
Looking for any danger sign, then he's off among the trees.
The sunlight' strength increases as it climbs into the sky,
And I enjoy it's pleasant warmth as morning passes by
I watch an old man goanna walk on pondorous stilted feet
See him climb up on an old grey log, the warming sun to meet.
The quietness of the morning, when scarce a sound is heard
the rustle of a falling leaf, or the twitter of a bird.
A peace of mind that comes to one in this glorious solitude,
It fills my soul and refreshes me, with joyous gratitude.
Quiet Acres, the name itself inspires,
Peaceful thoughts, where all that one requires.
Is to stop to rest and shed that daily load,
That one aquires while travelling along lifes bumpy road.
A quiet haven, where tranquility resides,
With hills of verdant green,and trees like lofty spires,
Reaching towards the sky like arms uplifted in praise,
Of God, for His wonderous gifts and ways.
Gentle slopes leading down to a rippling brook,
Where one can be at ease and just take time to look,
At natures fine display of beauties rare,
And find peace of mind in the quietness there.
Quiet Acres where one can rest
At peacewith the world, forget the rest
Of life’s troubles, let them pass on by
And in Harmony live, just you and I
Lifes so different now you've gone, it's left that gap,
The things we'd do each day, the way we'd chat.
It's like losing an arm or a leg. Somethings gone,
And left a void, that missing part, but my life still goes on.
I come back home after being out, close the door, put on the light,
And start to tell you what I've done, in a voice so bright,
Then, as silence is my only answer, I come back to the reality
That you are gone, I'm all alone, there's only me.
We had so many years of joy and laughter with of course some sorrow
Struggling on through thick and thin, there always was tomorrow.
A family brought us joy, as we shared our love together
Each one so different, but so loved, as they will be ever.
Their lives are their own now, each one in a different mould,
And we watched in pride, as we saw their lives unfold
Grand children came and gave us joy in the miracle of birth,
Reliving our own young days again, with so much fun and mirth.
Now you`ve gone, and left me all alone, I try so hard not to blame,
Lifes hard tricks, or to all around just moan and ever complain,
But to carry on as so many have done before , who share the pain,
of losing a loved one, and missing them, again and again and again.
My life goes on, the lonely nights so much worse than empty days,
No matter how much I try it`s hard to change the ways,
Of having you here beside me, but still somehow I feel and know
While I am missing you, You are watchinh over me, down here below..
Down In The Mall
The crowds all bustle and hurry along
Pushing piled trolleys dodging the throng,
Bargain hunters having the time of their lives
While old men sit on benches, waiting for wives
The stores are abuzz with voices all raised,
In excited chatter about the money they`ve saved,
While probing, comparing, all those special lines,
Men sit on benches, waiting for wives.
Some pause near their menfolk from time to time,
Leaving loaded trollies , for them to mind ,
Some are exhausted and that`s the time when,
They`ll sit on the benches and talk with their men.
The crowds mill around from shop to shop,
The hustle and bustle it never does stop,
And so life goes on while the time flies
And men sit on benches and wait for their wives .
I am blind or can barely see, but please don`t pity me,
I`ve arrived at last, I`m a V I P.
In thi s age of being politicaly correct,
A visualy impaired person, to be direct.
The denial and grieving now are past,
I can now accept my lot at last,
I no longer cry " Woe is me,
Why should this disaster visit me".
Life doesn`t finish with the loss of sight
And many aids help to ease my plight,
The scent of roses I can still enjoy,
And with different tasks my hands employ.
There`s help at hand we need only ask
For aid , from those who understand the task,
And can provide the special care we need
With compassion and even love indeed.
Life goes on as it surely must, from day to day
We still have those around who love us in every way,
Life is precious ,so we keep pressing on
And count our daily progress as battles won..
It's coming on winter along the great rivers length,
Early morning crispness with each drawn breath.
The waters so still and reflections so clear
Of the early birds flying, so quiet without fear.
The sun just arising, so brilliant it's beam
Rays of light shining, through trees tall and lean
Wisps of mist lifting from the water so still,
I breathe so quietly, lest the silence I kill.
A broken bough drifting, away in midstream
Brings a dimension of movement to add to the scene.
The quietness helping the dawns early light
To bring peace to this haven, where all is so right.
The silence is broken as morning birds sing,
Their carolling welcome, to a new day they bring.
A family of magpies forage the ground
And jackasses laughing,bring a bright happy sound.
I thank God for these moments refreshing and pure
Enjoyment of wonder forever sure,
That in memory will linger, of this gracious place
Where this is His peace and this is His space.
I AM ME
I am me and nobody else, no other person has inhabited my shell.
Neither before me, nor after, will be likely to dwell.
In this living skin, that surrounds me right now
And no other entity can share it, that I will not allow.
I am me, the supreme egotist, I the id, the one and only.
Being supremely me, I never get lonely
No thought of regression ever clouds my small mind
No reincarnation, I'd leave that behind.
I am me, and I won't come back as a dog or a cat or some other
And believe if you like in spirits and ghosts, who may moan and
I won't be haunting or visiting the scene, to give you a fright,
I will be gone to my Maker and I know I am right.
For if I believe as the good book tells.
We are all created uniquely ourselves
Each one in His image, no more no less, we are told that is true,
So if I've been here before, I'd have to join on a queue.
For those who had preceded me, in this world of mine,
Would have to go before me, in one great line,
And those who came after, my life was all done,
Would they follow behind me, would we shuffle as one?
To gain our reward or punishment due, for a lifetime of living,
In a world that is cruel and so unforgiving,
No I believe I alone will stand at that time and place,
Where ever it may be, for reward or disgrace.
For I AM ME !.
Sands of Time
Each person who touches my life leaves a footprint, in the sands of time,
If only for an instance that their life crosses mine
That oft unnoticed imprint just for moments there
Something in that fleeting meeting just for us to share
A touch, aword,,a smile, maybe something brief,
Nothing said to indicate that we rally meet,
Just standing close together in a crowd or queue
Is enough to start a spark of contact, between me and you
You may look and wonder briefly just who or what I am
I in turn may catch your eye with the slightest scan,
Of perhaps a hint of friendship, but not a spoken word
Breaks the air of silence, not a sound is heard.
An imprint in the sands of time is there between us two,
In the realms of the subconscious an imprint bright and new
And it may resurface at some long and distant date
For nothing is impossible in the hands of fate.
Who Am I
Who am I this mobile body , a collection of bones and skin
How can I explain all these things that are contained within.
This shell, that assumes different persona each and every day,
That reacts to every circumstance in a varying and different way.
As each morning dawns I awake to a different scene’
New thoughts to assimilate, new words to utter to please,
Those who I will greet throughout this day,
Words to encourage to accompany them on their way.
What do others see as I progress along life’s bumpy road,
Is it a person who takes his share of life’s heavy load?
Not someone who groans and moans about being dealt an unfair hand,
Grouching growling because nobody understands.
Am I the person who my wife, is the one that she took those years ago,
Who promised to love and cherish and never let her go?.
Am I the father to my children The one who guides them through life’s way,
Showing by example how to live each and every day?
To my friends am I that man who is known to keep his word
No matter what may prevail to test such friendships , may it be heard,
He is a man that one can always trust through thick and thin,
No matter what , you may depend on him.
Oh that I can live , to keep such ideals, as I go on through life
That to others I cause no harm or strife,
That by my precepts I can live to God’ Holy plan
And show to all, just who I am.
Don’t give up striving to do those bigger things,
It’s only just by keeping on, you’ll earn better things
When all those around tou just never want to try,
It’s only just by keeping goimg, that you’ll get on by.
When all around you seem lethargic, that’s the time to stick,
Just keep on striving on and on, with sheer determined grit,
When all the dust is settled and yo’ve managed to survive,
You’ll be the one that’s smiling, knowing your alive.
The reward of this is contentment, knowing you have done your best,
Keeping to the task in hand, when put to the test,
Never mind what others think about the things you do
Just know that honestly within yourselfit it’s been right for you.
Our Own Private Space
Each of us needs our own private Space,
Where we can retreat into Our Quiet Place,
A place where we have our own personal thoughts,
Shared with no one else, but in our own mind brought,
To our own private space, to moments, where we confess’
Maybe our own shortcomings or think on times of stress,
That we have just gone through, as we live from day to day,
A chance to withdraw and contemplate in our own quiet way
Maybe to reflect on pleasant things,
Times of pleasure that some days bring,
To hurried lives, so that only in reflection rare,
Can we appreciateteh simple joy, in Our own private space.
Who Are They?
Who are these facelessvoices that tell us what is what?,
This unseen consensus of opinion whether true or not
An unseen horde that infringes on my mind,
With those dreaded words that echo all the time,
It happens each and every living day,
Those words fill my ears , in an eerie uncanny way,
No matter how much I try to rid my mind of them,
On my mind they ever prey,
They say the world is going to end, the weather has a drastic trend,
Floods , droughts, fires, famines will it never end?
Fears , doubts , dramas all are spread by voices, from we know not where.
We only know that they are there, They say
One day I would like to find out , who these voices are that plague my mind,
The invisiible people who are right , all the time,
But until that day I`ll put it to an uneasy rest,
And go along listening not putting to the test,
What THEY SAY.
There is a land where all our dreams come true,
That land so perfect with skies ever blue,
To each one of us the realisation of all our hopes,
Our own dream land of Utopia.
A private haven to where we can retreat,
Ordered gardens with houses neat,
Perfect harmony wit h all mankind,
Understanding from mind to mind, this would be indeed be Utopia.
What !, I hear you say, this dream land so far away,
No fighting, strife ,or wild affray, perfect peace in every way,
How could this place even in dreams survive given mans fight to keep alive
No need to strive or struggle to compete, these things now which make life complet.e.
Utopia? land of dreams beyond compare,
Where we can escape and dream of perfection there,
A perfect retreat for that short space of time,
In our own Utopia, yours and mine.
Our Unknown Soldier
Was he a lad from out the bush, who could ride and shoot,
Or from a big city store, a clerk, in a blue pin stripe suit.
Maybe a father, who answered the call to serve the kings empire,
Eager to serve his Nation and to fight for freedoms desire.
Our Unknown Soldier?.
We only know that with those others, he sailed across the sea,
Willing to give his all, so that others might be free,
And set the standard for all of those, who on foreign fields would fall,
Fighting for a right to share a life, free of an oppressive horde.
Our Unknown Soldier.
He is now at rest in memories hall, a hallowed place he shares,
Together with the names of those, who have climbed those glory stairs
Of sacrifice, they gave their all, without the thought of fame,
But carried on the task in hand, to serve for freedoms flame.
Our Unknown Soldier.
Freely and bravely they have served and marched off straight and tall,
To fields of battle we remember still, some names we can recall,
Too many there are to call the roll, of battles lost and won.
In tradions forged and carried on by Australia's serving sons,
Our Unkown Soldier.
We do not wish to glory war or give it honours rare
But remember with pride and thanks, those who did their share
He stands for all of those who fell, no matter where or when,
Our tribute to the multitude, whose lives came to an end.
Our Unknown Soldier.
It's Father Christmas
I am a man of senior years,
Who has seen many of lifes joys and tears.
One who has travelled life's long road
And carried his share of the daily load.
Near Christmas, I don my suit of white and red
And summon my helpers, reindeers and sled.
Off to the children waiting in anticipation,
Faces shining in great expectationn.
As I take my seat in front of the throng,
I scan the crowd and see all along,
Some smiles, some tears, some fright, some fear,
As they wait for my merry greeting of cheer.
Little ones gaze on me in awe,
While some older ones have seen it before,
And while not sure to believe or not,
Accept the gifts offered, with a quick "thanks a lot".
So dressed in my garb known to all
And sharing the joy of the seasons call,
I am that man, some say doesn't exist,
For I see it present in those I have kissed.
Father Christmas, just a story or myth?.
Heaven forbid not true, he surely does live.
He lives each season of joy and festivity,
In each childs heart, and all adults memory.
Mossies seem to prefer my rump
But no matter where they leave a lump,
Which causes me to itch and scratch
And leave a rather reddening patch.
When that whine sounds so near my ear,
I begin to quake in fear,
My arms are flailing in the air
I nearly cry with great despair
Mossies shouldn’t make me panic,
My actions I know are quite dramatic,
That buzzing zinging whining noise
Throws me, then I lose my poise
Oh Lord I pray with all my might,
Why do you let the mossies bite,
An answer came, , thank me for mercies small,
I could have made them ten feet tall.
He sits at his desk each and every day,
Treating patients that come his way,
He checks their pulse and hears their heart
And marks his finding on a chart
Diagnosing all those various ills
Prescribing tablets, powders , pills,
Lending an ear to everyones strife,
The ongoing misery of each ones life,
But what of him with the listening ear,
All those complaints that sound so drear
Where can he go to unload those tales
To rid his mind of cries and wails
Patients thoughts and innermost fears,
Are poured out to those listening ears,
Secrets told with a confidence bold,
With an assurance they will never be told
To any one else, they have that trust
Of silence, which surely must
Raise questions of ethics from time to time
And weigh so heavily on a doctors mind
So spare a thought for th doctors plight,
Of being a physician who’s always right,
Who must at all times appear to be,
More than mortal, above you and me
As the role is played out from day to day,
It must seem perfect in every way,
No doubts no fears just utter trust
’But remember there’s a person just like us.
Do you ever feel impelled along by forces over which you have no control?
Time is speeding up it seems or else we`re getting old,
Before our time , too I might add , or so it seems to be.
As we see the weeks and months fly by and the years just seem to flee.
Is it just the way we live nowdays that makes time seem to fly,
So many things going on at once, moments rush on by,
Where have those quiet moments gone when we could take our ease,
To enjoy the fragrance of a rose or feel an evening breeze.
Every moment must be filled with something to see or do,
Instant vision on the box, brings the world to me and you,
Rushing on from place to place scarce time to take things in,
Until our brain is in a whirl, our mind is in a spin.
Instant meals and instant drinks designed to save us time,
Hardly time to shut our eyes to enjoy some sleep sublime,
Before the sounding of the alarm sends us rushing on,
Into a day of frantic haste, which suddenly is gone.
Even little children now wonder why the days go by so fast,
Not much time for babyhood, childhoods quickly past,
Adulthoods being thrust upon you, so you can join the throng,
Of busy people saving time and rushing right along.
Yes time does fly every passing day and we have less and less,
Time to spend in doing things that would ease the stress,
Of filling days with needless haste, ever rushing on,
Until our time has come at last and we`re forever gone. Like time.
I can smell the wattle blooming as I trudge along the track,
It means the Aautumn time is coming, my favorite seasons back,
Early morning frsheness, dew upon the grass,
Blue skies and sunny weather, Autumns here at last.
You can have your dry hot summers with the burning heat,
The freezing cold of winter, with slush beneath the feet
Springt ime’s always bearable, with flowers blooming tall.
But for me it’s always Autumn, the best one of them all.
I love it when the sun is shining warmly through the tress,
The feel of gentle warming, puts me at my ease,
The changing shades from greenness, to all those colours rare,
Of leaves so gently falling, just floating through the air.
Evening mists give the warning , winters on the way,
Breezes getting colder each and every day,
Frosty early mornings, pools with lids of ice,
When the fog has lifted, days are always nice
Yes Autmn is my favorite time in each and every year,
It gives me fondest memories in my mind so clear,
The brilliance of the sunshine, the skies of azure blue,
And the wattle vlooming makes me think of you.
The Home at Quiet Acre
The Home at Quiet Acre speaks to us of love,
With histories of families who’ve been blest from above,
Each room and hall has whispers that quietly fill the air,
Telling tales of friendship with tender loving care.
I love to think of families who’ve lived within these walls,
Their moments of enjoyment, shared by one and all
Tender precious moments as life came into bloom
One can feel the warmth of it as you go from room to room.
The voices of small children as they play in upstairs rooms
Calling to each other, dispelling any gloom
A mother croons a lullaby to sooth a crying babe
These are the sounds of people who here their home have made.
At times the lamps have glistened through the dark and stormy night
To the cold and weary traveler a welcoming, warming sight,
This home has given shelter through the strongest winter storms,
Keeping these within its loving walls so safe and snugly warm.
As each succeeding family has lived their lives in turn,
A trace of them is left behind from which we somehow learn,
That love is all around us for us to freely share,
And we leave that fragment of it, when we Leave our prescience there
We are together now, two joined as one,
Working in unison until we become,
A united mind with one single voice,
Agreeing together, as a matter of l choice.
Not a matter of mine or yours by right,
But ours by mutual consent with a loving insight,
Respecting each other, to each being true
Sharing together of all things anew.
Understanding your partner is the name of the game,
Not trying to win or trying to tame
Each others free spirit, rather make it the aim,
To work together without any pain.
Time is not the essence of a thing such as this,
Rather agreeing , with a hug and a kiss,
Quietly talking working things through,
Thinking of US and not me and you.