the colour of our lives

poetry • celebration • faith • nature • humanity • imperfections • glory

Archive for the tag “whimsical”

in tune

being or
achieve resonance;
touching the divine may prove fatal


found poem

…but if you want to dumb it down to geography
“East is East, and West is West”1
it naturally oscillates
history, literature, biography, art, religion;
revolution, spreading the true
Qualities of Angels.

Energy, with a slight chance of causing moderate fire;
please stay out of here, unless
in trouble,
“thy soul with crosses and with cares”2.

Whether or not it hurts
a state of total nakedness, as at birth
engaged in a discussion about power,
cut from the trees
near the beginning
of the world.

1 From ‘The Ballad of East and West‘ by Rudyard Kipling
2 From “Mother Hubbard’s Tale” by Edmund Spenser

The rules:
For each line,
1. highlight the titles of successive posts on blog
2. right-click ‘search Google for “. . .” ‘
3. choose some words from the first page of search results
4. add punctuation, capitalisation as desired.
[Some of the control lost in steps 1. and 2. is regained in steps 3. and 4.]
Repeat 1.-4. until finished.


blue_bikethey all have
phones and intense

powers of

worlds in their
friends on their mind

he rides a
blue bicycle

picks up good
of string and wire

in case they
become useful

Image from seeker-of-revelation at deviantart

touch stones


an instalment of proverbs, psalms and curses

marricrowdDo not ask a tree
how old it is. It
will never tell you,
and you will have
to cut it to the
ground to find out.
It may fall on you.

Do not cover the
soil with anything
that has not grown
in soil first. One day,
when you are no
longer alive, soil will
cover you.

You must never
taint or hoard
water. The risks are
too great; wars have
been waged over
less. While much is
still free, save and
purify all you can.

Be kind to all
things living; this
is your dominion,
the first gifts spoken. We
will know, like Job,
that these are
our teachers.

stonesDo not tear the
stones from their
resting places in the
Earth. At the very end,
as time and space
collapse, they will
shame you with
their singing.




or not to work


spy colleague
the other way

social net

scoop coffee
water: blissful


recipe for procrastination

mix duty
unmet desire

standard deviation

StdDevin my day job
not remembering formulas is
a handicap;
each solution to the same problem
requires remembering
first principles, and
how to construct the algebra

this could be a
coarse metaphor for life,
I’m not sure if I can recall
the basic principles.
The same problems keep
recurring; how to love and respect
my wife;
how not to exasperate
my daughter

deprived of convenient formulae
it reduces to this;
the aimless scratching of
pencil on paper, trying
to derive a solution for
our condition


meteor burns a
brief and fading track along
a cool midnight sky
many nights of craned necks show
patience comes before good luck

In Praise of Kiwiana

The New Zealand accent is distinct from its Australian counterpart. Some New Zealanders claim Australians say “feesh and cheeps” for fish and chips while some Australians counter that New Zealanders say “fush and chups”.

Kangaroo and kiwiHere in the muddle
of nowhere, on the coast
beyond the mud-west,
my Polynesian mountain homeland
beckons, drawing me back to
loyalty to my formative speech.

In the land of Maui’s fish
and canoe, living sounds
more like loving to the western ear.
As is fitting, the sharp ends of
the better jokes are puns; every
little but on the glass’s edge is rum,
and the locals are very careful when
saying “fickle”.

walking feet

my feet were not made for concrete and asphalt, not for straight lines and perfect geometric curves; these are for machines, with wheels for feet – gear I’ll wrap around me when it suits; when I haven’t left enough time to go the distance, or the air is more hot or wet or cold than I prefer, and I have forgotten what my feet are for:

crushing the fragrant litter beneath them; gathering dew and grass and mud to remind my house what it shelters me from; carrying my brain slightly aloft at just the right height for thinking through my life; walking into love, walking around love, and (thwart me God!) walking away

9 October 2001 #1

Everyone has that feeling sometimes
when walking alone; the way the rain
taps lightly on your umbrella, or the wind
makes a stilted rhythm in the trees.

There’s something sinister about not quite
being sure if you’re being followed, and as I
walk closer to the edge of the path, and avoid
looking back, I’m wondering whether my shadower

is too polite to pass, is frustrated by my
slightly slower pace (but I did make room),
or is even a friend trying to catch up
(but why don’t they call out?).

Of course, when I’m nearly there, I can’t resist
looking back; it’s no surprise that there’s
no-one but my own raised hackles. Who would
be out in this weather anyway?

if no stars fall

StarFalla half is by the nature of the word

only in near absence or fullness
does the moon inspire loyalty and romance

cities block the light of stars
but in that dimness they sparkle

unless lying on the ground
a human looking skyward will strain its neck

the power to wish is gone
if no stars fall

Last real revision: 19 October 2009

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