Bear

Should you befriend an ursine thing
It’s best beware what it may be:
For some will kill and some will maim,
But others are in fact quite tame.

So if you barely know the kind
Of ancient arktos you may find,
The answer’s here for all to see
About the fabled wolf of bee.

If in the hemisphere of east
Then do not fear the mighty beast;
You’ll find that though they’re omnivores
They much prefer the greener stores.

The size may range from large to small,
And one’s in fact marsupial!
They all like bugs and bits of plants,
One loves bamboo – another ants.

If to earth’s west you then set forth:
Then quickly check if south, or north.
Down south he’s wise, be-spectacled,
And lives in trees – or so I’m told.

The further north, the further worse,
So stay away from there of course.
You see, they share their coats around,
To mix up those by whom they’re found.

The grizzled brown is sometimes black,
And sometimes called the Kodiak.
The bruin black is often brown,
And Ted refused to shoot one down.

The one who has a coat of white,
Lives in a place of dwimmer light.
The brown is also sometimes seen
To have a pale and moonlike sheen.

To make it tough, the brown will quest,
Across the world from east to west.
Which makes the trick of hemispheres
Not all that helpful or that clear.

With all these kinds, what should you do
If one is looking down at you?
First, question why you went outside,
Then ponder that you’re ‘bout to die.

You should re-work your whole life plan,
And think about its shortened span.
Loom large and do not run away,
Then all that’s left to do is pray.

08.08.23

Sirens

I saw sirens today
Just like the day before.
They pass me everyday;
Sometimes, I pass them more.

They fly on roads so wide
They seem to swallow us.
The siren sound outside
Is drowned into the buzz.

The world that passes by
The people passing it –
Those sirens wail all night
Until they come, for them.

10.03.23

Nursery Rhyme for November

Crickle crack and crackle snap
Around the old gumtree
Leaves fall down on bones and ground –
The bones that once were me.

In and out and up and down
The brains go in a web,
Try and find their own way out,
But soon they’ll end up dead.

Fall and rot we go our way
Just like the fall before,
Soon to feed another crop
Remembered nevermore.

11.10.22

A Series

A Haiku
Yep, more words and stuff.
Been kinda boring so far.
At least I’m awake.

Another Haiku
Should I take more notes?
Not when there’s nothing to write.
So I guess I won’t.

Not a Haiku
Coffee poured or pressed
Is perfect for sipping
On those slow mornings
Before the fog drags off.
But Starbucks instead
Omits the thoughtful steep
Injecting quickly
Caffeine I really need.

2020

The Grass Slides By

The grass slides by – a rushing blur;
I’m running from what lies behind
But nothing’s really chasing me.

The wheels are spinning like my thoughts,
They’re wearing down my mind and strength
Each time I try to find an end.

This constant confusion and loss
Has grown as my shadow follows;
I watch as the sun goes to grey.

Tomorrow perhaps the new light
Will find me still searching the earth;
Eventually though I’ll be gone.

11.2.19

On Coming This Far

This road keeps on through day and night,
Further now from habits formed,
The vehicle that carries me
Brings me closer to my harm.

I know that as these wheels turn more
The pain I must endure nears.
This is the only way to form
New strength against my in-bred fears.

As questions form about the task
And fears return to whisper doubts,
I force myself to trust to fate
That from comfort drew me out.

This road keeps on and I with it,
Growing better day by day;
Though at this point I’m fighting still,
I look with longing down the way.

11.1.19

Bubble Man

The songwriter told of a boy in a bubble,
That boy he grew older and wiser each day.
‘Till eventually trauma his bubble had burst,
And reality found a sad place to stay.

Life can get hard and seem to lack meaning
Life pushes in and our comfort destroys.
The boundaries formed, no longer protecting;
The walls that we built are shown to be toys.

The cares of the world held the man in a whirlwind;
Without his protection he felt his soul rust.
As year after year weighed more on his mind
His care to live longer was filed to dust.

In his moment of dying no one was present
To see how he did it or even ask why.
But he has found now his bubble again,
And floats all alone through the dark dreary sky.

11.6.19

Generations

Souls of peace –
Silken lace and World War dreams.
Can I give a bit of thought?
The quarter turns and leaves are gone.

Silence speaks –
Christmas past and graves have grown.
Where’s the blood we loved in life?
The time has shifted yet again.

Dripping light –
Hope that spills in timeless death.
Who shall carry on our love?
The soil, children, trees, and stars.

11.2.19