photos, Writing

Being and Thyme

I too was young like you


Now I’m only good for barbecue

I was

Weathered by the winds of time

World weary

The glow of youth has gone


A pepper is a pepper is a pepper


Skin leathery or crisp


Bring flavour with equal satisfaction 


When we’re all in the same pot

Life itself.


It is

Blessed are those who seek 

what they can’t see

Some mumbling bumbling 


Jewelled demons claw at you

They speak without voice

Only need a few dollars

Employer of choice.


If it hides, light its darkness

If it fights, set it free

No actor can act 

what a being can’t be.


The dancers deceive us

Sweet night set us free

This turbid green liquor 

Herein lies the sea


Open the window

Take in the air

Bathe in the lamplight

Reject every care


Concrete and fences

All guide your way home

But it’s too late

And it feels late

Because it is late

And we commiserate that

In the end

We’re all










But that’s ok. 




Gate, gate, paragate



Devoid of hate

Or was it something that I ate?

photos, Writing

Golden Man

Little golden man,
where are you running?
There’s nowhere to be,
up on your shelf.
Your wicker basket
weighs no more than you
And is just as precious,
not precious at all.
Little golden man,
with a hat for a head
Tell me your treasure,
“No treasure at all”.
Ah, now I see,
So very precious,
Not a dead insect,
The moth deserved more.
Thwarted by glass,
And forgotten by sunshine,
The flowers of spring,
Mean nothing at all.
Dust in the morning,
Disrupted by black birds,
The garden is dirty
(Not dirty at all)
Electricity’s out
A solar light charges
Anticipate nighttime
Compete with the moon.
No work can be done
No internet blinking
No wisdom forthcoming
The moth died to soon.
Little gold man
Gilded in nothing
We’ll empty your basket,
This verse is for you.



An Unstable Tale

I regret to retell an abhorrent tale that I experienced only last week,
I was brought by a clatter, to a house and the matter that forced two once strangers to meet…

I beg your pardon but we hear you are harbouring an arborist.

Who, I? Forsooth, I fear you are mistaken.

I understand you’re making to save your bacon but we see your tree is free of leaves and needs to please be leased overseas for woodchipping and clipping and maybe furniture shipping. So where is the tree lopper?

What? Are you a copper?

Is treason the reason you keep on displeasing this innocent man of the law?

I refuse to reuse my excuses, it’s useless, but you’d back me if you’d seen what I saw.

Is that a pun? We don’t take kindly to that kind of thing, now bring out the felon. Chop chop.

Your wit is a sharp as his axe, but before you take him I should tell you the facts of the matter so you will see it’s a matter of fact that he works to preserve not destroy and, my boy, he could take you down quick as a trap.

The policeman looked stressed and addressed not the logger but the man who stood in the door – I must confess I’m impressed though it was this address that our records directed me for. I feel, in the light of this newly opened canopy, that I should give you a warning, just this once, and no more.

The man looked pleased and with well greased knees took a step out the doorway but slipped on the leaves that had once littered the eaves but now covered the pavement below. Oh heck, as he fell, he considered it well, the space where the great tree had stood, now he observed, somersaulting, that his house, sans door vaulting, had been crushed by the arborist’s wood.

Just sit tight, sang the cop, all this wood that was chopped will need to be cleaned up post haste. I’ll locate the wood chopper if you give me his number and insurance will pick up the waste.

The man groaned and he turned and he kissed the concrete – there never was an arborist. I did it, and I’m proud of this.

But why?

The bees they displeased me and the birds they would mock me and the monkeys…
The monkeys?
There are monkeys no more! I have ended their madness and it is with immense gladness that I find this huge mess around us on the floor.

But your home is destroyed…
But my life is now full!
But you have no insurance…
But I know someone who will!

He then flashed a grin revealing his sin as a second huge pine tree collapsed on the road. On a car. A police car. All white with blue lights and blue trim and shattered glass and crumpled steel and crushed rims.

The officer was not amused, nor was he confused – I’ve changed my mind, since you’re out of yours, I’m taking you in… though we’ll be taking your car.

Fine. But no monkey business. Don’t think I didn’t notice, from the start – your tail!




Contemporary Poetic


Office party

Suits and umbrellas
Managerial fellas
And strife when the toner is low.
When transport runs late
And the client’s irate
‘Cause the last data entry was slow.

There’s a note on the kettle
Constructed from nettle
Though in language so friendly and sweet.
While the boss is away
The hierarchy’s at play
Weaker players end up on the street.

Did I hit ‘reply all’?
Should I send it again?
Is the deadline for that pile next week?
The staples have vanished
And you’re feeling famished
The phone rings but you don’t want to speak.

We remain in our chairs
Unaware that our cares
Are a speck as the whole world walks by.
But here we refrain
Unperturbed by the rain
Out of fear our bank balance runs dry.