Spherical pale pink buds, smaller than peas;
Row upon row, silently waiting, in lines.
Forming grape like bunches,
Until flowering time.
Of a time gone by;
Thoughts of emotions, running high.
Attached to people and things:
Two chairs; a desk; a book of secrets sings;
Remonstrations falling on deaf ears.
The screams inside that nobody hears,
Due to naivety, self delusion and grief.
Nothing seems to bring relief,
A spiralling descent away from light.
No energy to fight nor for flight.
Time and life have healed the blight.
Knowing and accepting myself, day and night,
And my partner’s love and support,
During battles waged and darkness fought.
Early morning sunshine dazzles the reluctant traveller, on their way to work. Hazy buildings line the route, neither in shadow or in light.
Fellow passengers gaze, blankly, silently, caught up in their thoughts and phones.
How strange, this world of written and unwritten regulation and repetition.
Photo: Electrical Engineering Building, UNSW
I lack inspiration, become a lout.
It helps to go out and about;
Amble, absorb and tout.
Passers by glimpse the pout.
Just want to scream, to shout,
To wake myself up with a clout;
Still fruitless at every bout.
Can’t call myself poet devout.
At times there are ideas I should flout.
Use notebooks to record, later rout them out.
Now noises drown thoughts out
Needing and urging result in nowt.
It’s enough to bring on one’s gout!