poet's dilemma

staring at a white sheet of paper

can be frightening to a writer

or it can bring joy

that is if the words start to flow

okay, I am staring

where are the words

fingers long to write

come on words

materialize

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sun shines down on love

rain spatters lonely grief

only my blue umbrella's

a consolation and relief

she's left me for another

I'm stuck in a Scotch mist

imagining her in his arms

the passion of their tryst

but for my blue umbrella

I'd sink down and drown

or reach for my hat and

decamp to another town

the storm rages overhead

my umbrella keeps m...

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I stare at you across

the empty, scorched desert

that has appeared so gradually

and so imperceptibly between us.

The mirage that we were has evaporated,

been engulfed in desiccated emotions

now lingering in the vacant space,

hanging like a burning haze,

scorching our skin,

hung out to dry.

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Let the dreamless boy to cry 
If his wish to fly has gone 
How his tears going to dry 
If he stays far of sun

Ask dreamless boy be awake 
That the dream, is a part of us 
Tell him: "think of a better talk" 
And to change the dark glass 

Help dreamless boy to be here 
And clear his negative thought 
Once he comes to hear or share 
He will enjoy to dream in a boat 
 

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Many years ago I was intrigued by the appearance on Perth roads of bumper stickers displaying the enigmatic statement that "The Goddess is Dancing". I had no idea what this advertising campaign was all about, so I put together my own preferred explanation.

The Goddess is Dancing

Far from the powdered sand-tracks

in dunes dry beyond ages,

past unwatered acacias

where the wh...

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