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posties ride
riding within the white lines viewing everything in site,
air blowing in thy hair awaking me up from the night ,
visor pulled down fogged from my mouth eyes are protected,
watching the sun arise the light within my eyes sets a sparkle in thy sky,
riding along that road with your day in toe,
angry folk and happy folk smiling and arguing your fate,
leaving depo on the bike leaving home life behind,
a new day with sunlight possibly a storm for time,
danger is in thy eyes how i forget it for such a short time,
still once on that bike like a crow i follow a streight line,
flying free on the road working all day to go home,
how i hope ill continue to live to ride.
air blowing in thy hair awaking me up from the night ,
visor pulled down fogged from my mouth eyes are protected,
watching the sun arise the light within my eyes sets a sparkle in thy sky,
riding along that road with your day in toe,
angry folk and happy folk smiling and arguing your fate,
leaving depo on the bike leaving home life behind,
a new day with sunlight possibly a storm for time,
danger is in thy eyes how i forget it for such a short time,
still once on that bike like a crow i follow a streight line,
flying free on the road working all day to go home,
how i hope ill continue to live to ride.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2012
About this poem:
well this poem is written by me for all my friends lost and out of respect for posties of past in australia and the world whom have died on the job as it is a dangerous job yes i am a postie and i love the job and have seen the dangers so please take notice of motor cyclist as we are hard to see
Learner's Folly
Learners Folly
Amidst this eternal learned battle,
Where talent and skills do bleed
Entrenched in attitude, herded like cattle,
Confusion reigns in this their need.
Vociferous verbal blasts, scorched landscape
No virtue for my skills understood,
Oh to fly my distant escape
No solace here, this my mood.
Thunderous ignorance of this I teach
Ricocheting words, deafness abound,
Art from souls beyond their reach
No resonance interred, on this battleground.
Paul Gallagher 2008
Amidst this eternal learned battle,
Where talent and skills do bleed
Entrenched in attitude, herded like cattle,
Confusion reigns in this their need.
Vociferous verbal blasts, scorched landscape
No virtue for my skills understood,
Oh to fly my distant escape
No solace here, this my mood.
Thunderous ignorance of this I teach
Ricocheting words, deafness abound,
Art from souls beyond their reach
No resonance interred, on this battleground.
Paul Gallagher 2008
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2010
About this poem:
This is how I feel most times as I try to teach.only a look
only a look
only a glance
the music played
and soon they would dance
love can come
in unexpectedly
and it is so
that you never know
when you dont expect
love will arrive
only a look
and only a glance
only a glance
the music played
and soon they would dance
love can come
in unexpectedly
and it is so
that you never know
when you dont expect
love will arrive
only a look
and only a glance
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2010
Post Comment
Business Memos of Yore
From: W. Shakespeare
To: Propietor, Globe Theatre
RE: Roof Repairs
Behold! These locks I once did toss
Made wretched now by leaking dross
Upon yon roof the tempest hath tost
It's fury wraught, a shingle lost
Unfold! Now thy bundled tarp
Cast it upon the rent so sharp
Make hast lest I extend my harp
Another memo, a louder carp
Beware! The next shall cc the king
From the gallows then thy body shall swing
Prithee repair thy roof with care.
I go now to wash my hair.
_________________
Waldo Shakespeare, Tenant
To: Propietor, Globe Theatre
RE: Roof Repairs
Behold! These locks I once did toss
Made wretched now by leaking dross
Upon yon roof the tempest hath tost
It's fury wraught, a shingle lost
Unfold! Now thy bundled tarp
Cast it upon the rent so sharp
Make hast lest I extend my harp
Another memo, a louder carp
Beware! The next shall cc the king
From the gallows then thy body shall swing
Prithee repair thy roof with care.
I go now to wash my hair.
_________________
Waldo Shakespeare, Tenant
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2014
About this poem:
It seemed like the thing to do at the time.
Music In A Black Case
I got some music CD's today from a coworker at work
He had been promising me this music for about five years
I was very surprised when he gave it to me
I went through the music to find what to keep
All the while smelling cigarettes
The one case was made out of leather
Leather must really hold smoke smell well
Because this thing had not seen any smoke for over five years
Yet it smelled of cigarettes like it had been yesterday
I took what I wanted and donated that smelly case to Goodwill
Maybe a smoker will find it's smell dreamy
He had been promising me this music for about five years
I was very surprised when he gave it to me
I went through the music to find what to keep
All the while smelling cigarettes
The one case was made out of leather
Leather must really hold smoke smell well
Because this thing had not seen any smoke for over five years
Yet it smelled of cigarettes like it had been yesterday
I took what I wanted and donated that smelly case to Goodwill
Maybe a smoker will find it's smell dreamy
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2018
About this poem:
There was some good music in both cases, the other one didn't smell as much as it was made out of a non-leather material.A mathematical poem of destiny
How do we arrive
at a place and time?
Is life one big coordinate plane?
Are the x's and y's numbered and set?
Are the slopes all predetermined?
Or are we all a
v
e
r
t
i
c
a
line
as yet undefined
waiting for the function
and the pencil to draw.
at a place and time?
Is life one big coordinate plane?
Are the x's and y's numbered and set?
Are the slopes all predetermined?
Or are we all a
v
e
r
t
i
c
a
line
as yet undefined
waiting for the function
and the pencil to draw.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2010
Post CommentTo "live life"
We are mired by routine , tangled in between duties and responibuilities, desperate for that moment to come and live life. Precious times when we connect and feel alive , no longer trapped by the trappings of the everyday life.Precious times , may be minutes or weeks , when lifes perfect moments make us complete. We join humanity in the celebration , I offer my thanks for the times I gain , precious and few , to live life again.....
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Feb 2012
About this poem:
Just my reflection in the mirror talking.It's Hot Hot Hot!
Soaked in sweat
My head feels like it has been boiled like an egg
I have diarrhea
I don't care any more about this job
It is supposed to be better than this
You have air conditioning for the managers
But they don't want to share it with the workers
I wonder how the sweat shops across the world are doing in this weather
If you work for one of these places you are at the mercy of mother nature
When it is not June, July, or August, you do ok
But this is the time when you are tested
How much crap can I put up with?
But still I am glad I make more than Vietnamese workers
Who only make 2.50 dollars a day
My head feels like it has been boiled like an egg
I have diarrhea
I don't care any more about this job
It is supposed to be better than this
You have air conditioning for the managers
But they don't want to share it with the workers
I wonder how the sweat shops across the world are doing in this weather
If you work for one of these places you are at the mercy of mother nature
When it is not June, July, or August, you do ok
But this is the time when you are tested
How much crap can I put up with?
But still I am glad I make more than Vietnamese workers
Who only make 2.50 dollars a day
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2019
About this poem:
Another hot day, maybe the planet is heating up.
In Emergency Empty Pockets
When I shop I never say no
If a receipt they want to give
Many a poem I wrote on these
When paper is not near
On way home 'Phoenix' I wrote
Could barely fit it on there
How sad it'd be if poem not born
Not here in existence
If a receipt they want to give
Many a poem I wrote on these
When paper is not near
On way home 'Phoenix' I wrote
Could barely fit it on there
How sad it'd be if poem not born
Not here in existence
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2011
About this poem:
I'm sure that I am not the only oneFly words fly
The poet cries
Fly words fly!
From the paper on which they are wrote.
And into the hearts of
All who read.
May they be touch with
Smiles and frowns.
Laughter and crying.
The past, present and future.
The poet cries
Fly words fly!
Copyright 2011 John Yona
Fly words fly!
From the paper on which they are wrote.
And into the hearts of
All who read.
May they be touch with
Smiles and frowns.
Laughter and crying.
The past, present and future.
The poet cries
Fly words fly!
Copyright 2011 John Yona
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2011
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