Skip to content

Twitter Poems

WHAT WILL BE
Nothing we can
do or say
will ever wake up
the evening
or kiss the morning
good night,
what will be, will be
in darkness
or in light.

THE NEXT DAY
Waiting for time
to clear the way
for all the dreams
that shine
like stars of hope,
the guiding lights
of another day.

ELECTRICITY
He crossed the river
together with the old guy,
they were looking for
some electricity
to shed some light
on truth and mystery.

THE LONG POEM
They gathered around the word,
the line and the whole poem
these thirty years past
printed on every line
of their faces
and on the pages
of their hearts.

A QUIET WEEK
She was planning a quiet week
resting in the arms of the one
who quelled the storm,
listening for the words
that ushered in the calm,
breaking bread and wine
in the evening.

REST
Did she make it home,
find the rest
she was looking for;
were the roses
in full bloom,
their scent wafting
from room to room.

THE MOUNTAIN
The mountain calls for
a slow climb,
a deep breath
and a whispered prayer
that brushes
the face of God.

COMFORT
In the restless slumber
of a dark night,
an unspoken prayer,
a calm faith,
a covering
of warmth and
protection.

SURVEILLANCE
Freedom erased
from the printed page,
the iron chains
of slavery
they forge still
in the fires
of the blacksmiths rage.

DREAM
The moon stands guard
over the summer evening,
the diesel locomotive
echoes across the restless heart,
rumbles like thunder
above the pale light
of the dawn.

BIRTHRIGHT
In the course of our slumber
Under cover of our silence
They steal at our birthright
Replace it with compliance

PINE FOREST
The trees are falling
and the sky seems
much closer than it was.
The trees have fallen
and the earth is dancing
in colours gay.

LOSS
I am down at the edge of the low tide
Gathering what is left of the shore
The sweep of the bay is empty
And I can swim there no more

LOST IN THE ANGER
Lost behind the microphone,
couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes
couldn’t disguise the anger
couldn’t find the words
to speak out who he was.

KNOWLEDGE
I can’t tell you which way to go
or everything you need to know,
darkness is broken by the light
and spring comes after the snow.

THOSE OLD STREETS
These are the streets of home,
faded road maps of forlorn hearts
where once I used to roam,
long ago forgotten dreams
oh, I do not want to doubt
but how I would like to walk there
on those streets with verges green.

FATHER
The years have not always been kind
beneath his hard and unsteady hand,
we get close then watch from a distance
as he takes his last harvest from the land.

PUPPET MASTERS
Behind the child’s eyes
the serpent hisses,
the nurse has a bayonet
strapped to her back,
the wailing can be heard
all the way to hell and back.

HOLINESS
Water cleans the down pipe
washes away the dirt and stain,
got to break open the dark heart
and speak in the pouring rain,
don’t wait for the sun to shine
it’ll come at the sound of your name.

GOODBYE
I see it in your eye,
the last goodbye,
the distant road
that calls your name,
somehow you know
I won’t be back again.

CONTROL
Push the button,
flick the switch,
turn the knob
throw the lever,
click the button,
take control
one way or the other

SING-A-LONG
The song of hearts
plays on a Monday,
the keyboard
learns to dance
with the voice
across the wooden floor.

THE SONG BEGINS
I am lost but for the song
the dancing violin,
I follow the path along
I weep for the state I’m in,
redemption rights the wrong
waits the song to begin.

THE DAMAGE DONE
It is the best I can do now,
the sapling prone on the ground,
no more I know how
spring dances without a sound

TO YIELD
of love
that one great love
that holds us
through wilderness
and field
there we rest
secure, there
we yield.

HEART’S TUNE
Of love
we often speak
and sing and write,
the poet, musician
philosopher too,
the man and the woman
composing
their hearts’ tune.

MOTHER
The lilies bloom
this anniversary
below the window
outside the room
where each day
was pinned
to the wall;
this was the love
that sustained us,
that held us
against the fall.

A BOY BABY

comes the sun
in the early morning
comes the song of joy

comes the road
no beginning or end
comes the roaming boy

THE CALLING
Baby and bathwater
fire and rain,
so too the wind
and the stillness,
both of them
sometimes
whisper my name

MYSTERY BIRTH
The wind is truth
and mystery too,
deep in its breath
lies my rebirth,
that’s the thing
that holds up
this old universe.

KNOWLEDGE
The wind speaks
in the sound of the tree
there, knowledge is found
by those who hear,
by those who stand
in the face of fear.

DRY BONES
The wind is wearisome
most of the time
and not just a little,
dries out my bones
until they are bleached
and brittle.

GREEN RIVER
The green river
scours deep
the bed of sorrow;
there is little comfort
among the green tears
that run to the ocean.

BODY AND BLOOD
I watched his hand tremble
as he reached
for the broken bread,
the red wine, moist
upon his lips,
ran through his veins
like blood
watering the garden
of grief;
I watched for the God
who walks with man
in the cool of the evening.

PARLIAMENT
We called
But you did not answer
We waited
But you did not come
We mattered
But not much to you
We knelt
You broke our neck

INNOCENCE
Take me back
to the safe harbour
of those innocent times;
take me back
to that soft love
of those innocent eyes.

STEPHEN
His, an eye for detail,
a feel for the open road,
a love for home
and he crafts with his heart
the priceless treasure
of his true self
that he owns.

SON OF MAN
Floating on a broken string
not tethered to a single thing
not a head rest of belonging
or a song of comfort to sing .

NIGHTMARE
This recurring nightmare
wakes me from my sleep,
I hear the child crying;
what I have done
it makes me weep

MAGGIES FARM
I’m leaving Maggies farm,
not working no more
the clay pits of Egypt,
they meant nothing
but to do me harm,
going to take my leave
got to chance my arm.

ASH AND FLAME
I am lost in the isolated places,
caught between hope and dream,
ash and flame,
the desert and the green plain,
yet somehow
I will find my way again.

THE STORM
He knows the storm
And the howl of the wind
He knows the shelter
That sometimes is hard to find…
He knows the highway
And the promise it holds
He knows the race is not won
Until the story is told…

MELODY OF HOME
This is joy,
To know the rising of the sun
To touch the silver of the moon
To know the road behind
And the highway ahead
To know the song of the journey
And the melody of home…

SLEEP BABY, SLEEP
The headlights take the distance,
black zephyr moves slowly
through the sleepless hours,
love waits patiently
the first light of dawn,
baby sleeps at last.

CURRENT OF SONG
Held by a broken string
no place to rest his head
nowhere to belong,
wisp of white cloud
floats in the blue sky
he floats alone
on the currents of song.

DEBT COLLECTOR
The debt collector
comes knocking,
wants his pound of flesh,
we have nothing left to give him
but the field of our harvest;
he takes the very best.

PURSE STRINGS
The purse strings
are in the hands
of a chose few;
that familiar kiss
betrays us all,
falling soft as the dew.

CONFIDENCE
She heckled
the story teller
over her golden ale;
he remembered then
his first beer
and smiled back at her.

SONG OF THE SON
No more joy is there to be found
than in looking back
over fertile ground,
easy rider motorcycle
leather tassels,
a koombi micro bus
racing down
the endless beach
and a kid
who had everything
within his reach.

HOME
There is no place that I own,
none built with stick, mortar or stone;
it is the long road, the blue sky,
the forest and the field
that I call home.

FOR THE TRAVELLING
Some look at how far
there is still to go,
while others look at how far
they have already come;
such is the fuel
for the travelling.
;

BONES
I am broken by the wind,
it turns these bones white
and dries their joints
to stone sculptures
unmoving in the desert.

SEASON 4
Autumn
she wears a coloured coat
of yellow, brown and gold
then strips the tree naked
and makes a harvest from the dirt,
I cacoon myself
within the warmth
of her welcome, woven skirt.

SEASON 3
Summer
she sings in the sunlight
shimmering through the trees,
she rolls down the river valley
water flowing over stone,
I see diamonds sparkling
on the fabric
of the summer skirt she owns.

SEASON 2
Spring
she just sits in the wild plum tree
and sings to me a song,
scent of something new,
a tune so strong
I fall for the fragrance
tangled up in her
skirts hanging long.

SEASON 1
Winter,
she is gathering up her white skirts
with a crisp swish and sway,
she gives me a wink
as she makes her way
down the cold valley,
dares me to follow
but I choose to stay.

EXHIBITION
A time to live
To laugh and cry
The stroke of the brush
Washing the faces
Of deep love
A gallery of hearts
Captured in that canvas
Framed for all time

IN ICELAND
...oh he melts the cold breath
with the beat of a warm heart
he is a friend of mine
even when we be out numbered
even when we be apart...

ASKING FOR BREAD
I’m caught in the crossfire
between the bread and the stone
I am tired of the asking
of hearing the echo alone.

OLD FRIEND
Saw him in the shadows
moving across my window pane,
caught a glimpse of time then
in the old eyes of my friend.

THE GAS STATION
The cloud of anger hangs low
over all the congregation,
the song reaches for the heavens,
but drowns at the midnight gas station.

PROPHET
The first will be last and the last will be first
The present now will become the past
The fire and the fury will devour and consume
The tribulation of the heir and the outcast.

CONSUMED
The king and the priest are cast down
The daughter weeps in her despair
The righteous ways have been departed
The children consumed by fear.

LOST SOMETIMES
Just sometimes
I am lost
on the twisting road
of my wanderings,
wondering if
I will be waiting
somewhere
around the next corner.

SPEAK AS THE WHALE
Gospel singer,
you sing as the whale,
the words hang
a weight around your neck,
you sing the song
of the meek
for fear that
no one will hear
and be saved.

A DEEP TONGUE
He kills the engine
to hear the silence
covering the sea;
then the whale is heard,
speaks in a deep tongue
that harnesses
the roar of the wind,
that draws breath
from the silence.

JONAH
The slow lapping of water
breaks the silence
surrounding the body
of the whale
floating on
the surface of the sea;
why did death overtake her,
what truth did she harbour
and what did she know
about being free?

WHALE
This whale,
queen of the deep,
lies on the surface
of the sea,
her flesh torn open
by predators,
vengeance
would not let her be.

OVER COOKED
She said she was over cooked this week
over-done, over spent, just over…
the cleaning, the cooking, the washing
the children, the dropping off, the picking up
the refereeing, the wise counsel, the everything...
the evening, the moon, the bed…

Load More