I Know Not.


Heave against the large wooden door
Dim and cool with its incense.
Catch the candles flickering glow
Burning for whom, I know not.

Gaze at the ceiling of painted faces,
With bishops, a priest and a nun.
A mosaic of a man on the cross on the wall
With Saints, of whom, I know not.

A woman’s murmur her lips barely move,
From behind me her head scarved and bowed.
Ignoring the snarl of the cars and the trucks
On their way somewhere, I know not.

Another bends to light her candle
Shoulders upright with hope
And stops before him to pray for herself
Or for others, whom I know not.

The old lady shuffles and squints up at me,
Sadness yet life on her face.
She crosses herself and rests on the pew,
To contemplate what, I know not.

The solitude and peace spread its respect
Inside the cavernous space.
The light from the sun twinkles its message
From somewhere beyond, I know not.

I can’t write about . . .


I can’t write,
About you,
My friend.
Your laugh,
Your stories,
Your pain.
Our tears,
Our desires,
Our secrets.
You left too soon,
I don’t know why.
I wasn’t ready for,
Our friendships’ end,
I still wait for the call,
That can’t ever be made
By you,
By me,
For us,
My friend.

A Night in Scottsdale

Green rolling hills, sky so blue,
Into the town, people were few.
Searching the streets for our B & B
Pleasant to the eye that we could see.
Two dogs bounded up to us to greet
Ross and Dean at the steps to meet.
In shorts and t-shirts they weren’t abashed.
They put down their wines in their corner stash.
They were happy to see us they did retort,
Then out came Brian in his singlet and shorts.
Who he was we were never to be told
As he gave us advice he was that bold.
They showed us around their antiqued abode,
Along the wide verandah yes we all strode.
Into our large room with mozzies and brocade,
Here’s your room, for which you’ve paid.
They left us and we sat on the sloping bed,
We looked at each other and scratched our head.
Why was it Scottsdale that we chose to stop?
When there were other places for our heads to drop.
Down to the pub for the only meal in town,
Full of locals and a meal causing frown.
There was nothing to do and it was still light,
But go to bed early, with the mozzies to fight.
Up the next day to greet a dawn so pale,
We couldn’t wait to get out of Scottsdale.

On the Road

kangaroo sign

I don’t register why I slow down,
When from the corner of my eye
A shape leaps toward the road.
A large roo hops out in front
From nowhere into the traffic.
Brakes screech, but it’s too late
As it meets the bullbar,
And disappears beneath the four wheel drive.

Then as if in slow motion
It struggles up with a feeble hop
To land for its last time in front of me.
Eyes signal its distress and
We shudder together before it slumps.
Traffic stops and people swarm
Someone has a bag, another has a sack,
Two men drag the carcass to the roadside,
Check for a Joey and tag for unknown disposal.

I sit not knowing what to do,

Then there is nothing else left

But to go on our way as before.

Not There Yet.

long-road-007 White lines hurtle past
Someone’s waste caught by the bush
Dead land dotted with tree skeletons
Not there yet.
Black lines on the pale sky
Birds sit like musical notes
To play to their own tune.
Not there yet.
Crosses and flowers show
Someone else’s grief
And sadness for what was,
Not there yet.

The Kiss


The first kiss, sweet and soft,
To taste each other and find our way.
Yielding lips and tongue,fuel our passion.
Pull apart to breathe you in,
Gaze upon your craggy face.
Touch the lines, with my finger,
Push aside the strand of hair.
Meet my lips, our ardour done.

The Photograph


Elated, joyous smile crossed his face,
Admires his new fiancé.
Wistful, I spy behind the lense.
There was no one to match her
Her eyes darted about to rest on him.
His mouth receives her kiss.
Click, click,
Her smile eases through red lips,
To whisper only to him.
Cut the cake, the speech is long.
Drum beats, dance as one
The night is gone and
So are they.