Be in the Moment

Be in the moment

For only that is real.

Each moment so precious

Use it wisely; with zeal.

Be in the moment

The past is now gone—

What’s left is just memory

Perceptions, some wrong.

Be in the moment

The future’s a mystery:

Dreaming and wishing

Cannot make history.

Don’t waste a moment

Emotions are precious

Embrace them, you own them

All part of your story.

ALWAYS BE IN THE MOMENT

2012

In Memoriam, May 2003

Teresita, Margaret and Carmel—The Three Muscatelles.

A journey of searching, caring and sharing:

Exploring the greatness of all that is,

Acknowledging the mystery of life and its meaning..

Walking and driving:

Embracing God's creation.

Eating, laughing: Enjoying all that was on offer.

Indulging ravenously in the banquet of life.

Our Wednesdays were our communion with all that is.

But above all we were kindred spirits,

Just ‘being in the moment’.

A circle of friends

Somebody’s Child

War, famine, natural disasters our nightly viewing

Delivered in high definition, living colour:

We watch children of strangers die before our eyes:

This and more:  Part of everyday life

Repeated over and over in all its horror,

Sometimes in slow motion for better effect:

Children wandering about homeless, without family or comfort:

Overwhelmed by these images we watch lost for words.

African children their eyes emotionless

Standing by dry or contaminated water holes,

They utter no sound:

In primitive villages hundreds more live just waiting to die

From the Aids Virus they contracted before they were born.

Terrorists and suicide bombers add to the nightmare:

Dead and dying in hotels, airports or along city streets

No discrimination made: Any age, race, or creed:

Terrorists are sure of their fifteen minutes of fame,

Maimed and dying children the innocent victims

Lie there unnamed─their lives shattered before our eyes.

We see children playing with guns and ammo,

But like all the others they are soon forgotten.

Subliminally traumatised by these visual intruders

We progress mentally: De-sensitized: Paralysed:

‘Till eventually lobotomised by over exposure

Still we sit and watch as fellow humans die in our homes.

Each somebody’s son;

Each somebody’s daughter;

Each somebody’s child.

Turn off the television:

Regain your power: 

Take time to reflect; reconnect:

Reset your emotions.

 Reclaim your future.

No longer can we ignore our fellow human’s plight:

Aren’t we all members of the same human race?

Don’t we belong to the same global village?

Whatever happens to one, impacts on the whole.

WE ARE EACH OTHER’S CHILD

I Can Fly

High on the ragged, rocky outcrop a mother eagle snuggled close to her little egret having recently returned to their eerie after spending hours flying about searching for food. As always her baby was delighted to see her and hungrily tucked into the treats she had brought him. When the food was all finished he asks his mother:

“When can I fly

Out there in the sky,

When can I fly like you?"

"Oh! Bye the bye,

She replied with a rather tired sigh,

But first there are things to see to.”

"But I‘ve flapped my wings,

And done all those things

You said I needed to do.

So when can I try?

I so want to fly

Out there in the sky with you."

Many weeks passed them by,

He was impatient to try

All his tricks; he had learned quite a few.

With his wings growing longer,

And daily much stronger,

His skills he constantly hewed.

It was time to fly high

All alone in the sky,

His moment of truth; he knew.

"Don't stray, stay close by,

Where I can see with my eye:

Just be sure you stay in my view."

He flew up and down,

But before long he found,

That flying was tiring: That’s true.

The weeks quickly passed,

His skills fine-tuned at last:

It’s time to fly to places anew.

"Oh! Mother, dear mother,

Good-bye darling mother,

I’ll remember it all, that I will:

 As I fly through the sky

On the thermals up high,

In my heart you’ll be there with each thrill.

‘Till the day that I die,

Each time that I fly,

I’ll remember who taught me the skill."

2009

             

          Faraglione, Capri, 1998  

Australia, My Homeland

Island continent: Ancient southern land

Under the Southern Cross—its own celestial guide.

When discovered by Europeans recorded as Terra Nullius;

Fifty thousand years of Aboriginal ownership and pride.

Unnoticed civilization: History predating any other.

Here no need for a Merlin or King Arthur.

Aboriginal dreamtime: Rainbow Serpent:

Red Centre its Spirit:  Uluru its Heart.

Flora and Fauna unique to these islands:

Fossils left over from that great land Gondwana:

The edge of Eromanga the once inland sea

Home to the world’s only known dinosaur stampede.

Children’s footprints covered by eons of sand;

Found near Lake Mungo deep in the south of the land.

Carvings, paintings—on rocks and in canyons

All these and history prove claim to this land.

Oral history passed down through appointed custodians:

Stories of creation; living with all nature had endowed them.

Generations of history, unique treasury of knowledge;

Nomad Aborigines; hunter gatherers, managing their land.

Continuous civilization unrivalled on Earth—

More than two hundred years now since white invasion;

So little understood, much still to discover, understand, learn.

Together we can unravel our history—our treasured inheritance.

2012

From the top:  

Daintree Tropical Rainforest, Far North Queensland;  

Snorkelling on the Great Barrier Reef, Far North Queensland;

All that lives on the Nullarbor Plain, Central South Australia;

Kauri Forest, Pemberton Southern West Australia

Iron E in Poetry

         Goodness me last Tuesday at three

As I was reading my poetry

An Iron E fell on my knee—

It dropped down out of the poet-tree.

How could it be I did not see

The Iron E up in the tree

Until it fell onto my knee

Last Tuesday afternoon at three?

Furthermore, today at four

I met a 4 carrying a saw,

Just outside of my front door.

Perhaps it wants to start a war!

Next I saw a fox hide in a box.

Of course it is no paradox

To see a fox hide in a box:

But this smart fox was wearing socks.

I wonder whether the verb 2 B

Would know me from a simile?

If it saw us in a poet-tree

Perhaps it would think it IRONY?

2012

Our Constant Companion

Our Constant Companion

Fellow traveller; faceless mimic;

Always there; knowing all:

Each moment lived: 

What I have done or failed to do.

Innate:  Cannot escape its presence.

Shadow puppet;

Companion on the journey;

Conscious reminder of life’s purpose.

Sometimes, when things become dull, it disappears:

Time to relax.

But no! Look behind and again it is there at heel.

Occasionally it gets ahead and leads the way:

Threatened I fear it might expose inner secrets;

Confronted:

Challenged:

Overwhelming tension builds;

Stress, disease take control.

RELEASE THAT FEAR:

EMBRACE IT ALL.

GROW IN CONFIDENCE

DON’T BE AFRAID OF YOUR PAST

IT IS PART OF WHO YOU ARE.

LIVE EACH MOMENT TO THE FULLEST.

OUR SHADOW COMPANION IS PART OF US—

OUR FELLOW TRAVELLER;

OUR GUARDIAN ANGEL;

OUR CONSCIENCE.

IT SETS US APART.