…The pleasures of speech and sound had long abandoned him…
A Poem – Abode (An Old Home)
Through the branch electric wire
Connect atop my only spire.
Above the trees that shed their leaves
And fall unto my rusty eaves.
Create a brief and green scene
Until the Autumn’s come and been.
After death, the dawning crown
Has all but turned the awnings brown!
Balancing without much thought
Toward a swathe of comfort,
The softened sun comes filtering
Betwixt cool winds contorting.
Coffee, toast and my newspaper
Insects orchestrate their caper.
Digging the soil, grass for show,
Windchimes in my open window.
– 2010
Childhood Heroes
Nearly four years ago now I was fortunate enough to snap a photo with one of my heroes; none other than the brilliant Tim Burton. Was an honour to meet him at the ACMI in Melbourne, however brief it was! (I am aware that it is Friday and therefore not a ‘Throwback Thursday’ moment; but judging on my hair I think I’ll call this a ‘Fro-back Friday!)
Thanks for Dark Shadows, Ed Wood and the man with scissors for hands (my beautiful wife walked down the aisle to ‘Ice Dance’). And as a kid I remember watching Nightmare Before Christmas with my sister every Christmas eve – one of my fondest memories.
Thanks for the continual inspiration, Tim!
A Poem – Disintegrate In The Dusk
As the sun disappeared on a graveyard of frost,
I sat in the dry and straw-like grass,
My mind occupied by loved ones lost,
Etched on tombstones of those long passed.
Voices of ghosts howled on a black gale
And my heart on a sudden became crestfallen.
For in trying to find my next lyric, I fail.
My senses, transfixed on the trees, were stalling.
For I found myself think of the loss of my mother,
A woman taken some ten years passed.
And when then the thought of my recent lost lover
Arose, my heart was gripped with aghast.
The twilight had settled, I returned to my notes,
But my hands were left raw by icy swords
Of cold that could crack and make bleeding provoke.
I threw my ill thoughts to the Winter wind chords.
But melancholy seized me with fire and smoke,
As I found beauty in sadness and the dead.
Intrigued by my loss, the spirits awoke
And ravages of age swirled in my head.
A gust saw the sheets of my poems go sailing,
As if to purposefully capture my glance.
In between headstones, a banshee unveiling
Standing, staring, silent in the distance.
My warm living eyes met sight of my love,
Her soul lingered for now within ancient husk.
My angel and I, ignored from above,
Left alone to disintegrate into the dusk.
– 2010
