Monday, 27 January 2014


Death is: delayed
a difference is made.

A Cat In Hell's Chance

A girl I know, or at least wish I did,
she had a certain way.
She always seemed to look through my skin
when I was out of things to say.
I'd make bland comments about the weather
and ask about her day.
She'd reply with an indifferent sniff
knowing my acting meek.
Her social skills had gained her fans;
my own made me feel weak.
Yet, despite myself, I unsheathed my tongue
and dared myself to speak.
She used well known aphorisms
to ward off romance.
But who condemned the cat to hell
and who gave that cat no chance?
I posed to her these ponderings
and asked her for a dance.
And so it was that philosophy
out-jostled social wit,
and even with the blandest badinage
you can be well read and writ.
There may have been no sunset fandango
but I'm happy with my lit.

Please Take Care This Winter

The fields resemble a landlocked lake,
the roads — a slithering stream-like snake.
An aquaplaning aquarium
that insists we take caution and test our brakes.
But the flow will always come and go,
so why let it force our pace to slow?
We're just another mild hysteria away
from a couple of centimetres of melted snow.

Heaven's Brick

God is busy in cyberspace
defeating his darkest demons.
He designed the interface
but is outdated as Siemens.
So the only hope for global faith
is next decade's nostalgic yearn
when we found greater lasting grit
in the old ways from which we turned.

Saturday, 4 January 2014

Endless Oceans

We sail along on a boundless ocean
each ripple a life which ruptures the shoal.
Meager from mass skies, we seem so small
til our gentle sway makes giants of us all.

For when ripples touch, they expand and fill
like our hearts which invite and imbibe love.
From connections, we seem greater from above
and to make great waves just one ripple's enough.

Beyond the surface we hold hidden depths—
memories swim along the ocean floor,
which live on long, in love's sentimental lore
fondly retold through time for evermore.

So take strength in the ever-constant tide,
with each ripple made, our wave will never die.