Redex Poetry (22)

The tunnel i walked
was dark with darting
sun light touching spots with
tender caresses from leaf to leaf.
Touching me too
I smiled with glee.
Looking up above to the cannopy
of trees interlocked, swaying
seemingly in a loving embrace.
Life could not be better.
Crinckling leaves underfoot,
birds hopping, singing, scatching
for a breakfast in dead wood,
that invited birds in
like a street cafe
but, no charge levied.
Here my tunnel concealed me,
from the reality of bustling
people, peeping horns of traffic.
Children screeching,
dogs barking aloud.
No, I will stay in my
tunnel, under the cannopy
of swaying trees,
in peace and harmony.
No charge levied.

Orange leaves curl
Dawn chorus an echo only
Dew lies glistening

The V trail led by
Mr duck, was rippling
at a fast speed.
He, seeking bread floating
on top of the water
dropped by the hand
of a wee daughter.
Without invite, a skimming
ot 6,7 more ducks flew in
landing too with a din.
The childs delight was plain to see,
she giggled and nearly toppled
in to swim too, her father
held her reins fast with a laugh.
Breakfast at an end,
and all was quiet again.

The rhythm of life
mirrors those famous daffodils
swaying to the tune of the wind.
Bending without breaking.
Needing only the sun and breeze.

Homo sapiens, a different breed.
Forever wanting this and that.
Having through time
developed an overwhelming greed.
Grey no trace of soft yellows.

All will sadly end one day.
Not so the yellow daffodils.
The fields will be full
with their gentle rhythms,
the swaying of golden heads
in the breeze of life.

The past,
the future,
the here and now.

We travel from one
to another in
a blink of an eye.

Maybe through sorrows,
past lovers,
or even horrors.

We glance at the future
with longing
in the eyes.

We can rest assured
the future awaits
to start up anew.

The souls of my comrades cried out with mine,
beneath white stones, line after line.
Our hard fought democracy was crumbling away.
Rivulets of blood encircled the earth once again.

Our voices were mingling with man's struggles above.
Souls no longer at rest, angry and torn.
How dare leaders make nothing of history and deaths,
fought with such blind obedience and now they mock.

The winds were changing around the world.
Each country had its' own hurricane of tormoil.
I could hear the voices from long ago,
surfacing and shouting, it's tome to go.

This would be a collective march,
from us and those living above.
We would shout together against tyrannical rule.
And die not from obedience, but that we should.

The winds were changing around the world
Each country had it's hurricane of turmoil.
I could hear the voices from long ago,
surfacing and shouting, its time to go.

I doubted a change could occur
Without more blood spilling
Seeping below.

1792




Fear gripped his heart
ripped it apart.
His trembling limbs
had knowledge of his sins
Hanging was the game.
Survival was plain-
nonsense he knew.
So right on queue
he, the last one
swung on the gibbet,
until his bones withered.

I walk peacefully
alongside her, that was me.
Pondering where I should be,
or should i say she?

Our paths split so long ago.
Was it impossible this dream
to join again, it seemed
a journey fraught with fear.

I see her shadow in the water.
does she want the same?
Is she game
to try again?

I did shout in anger at her,
in the splitting, all those years ago.
I challenged her "be gone, go".
the shadow disappeared oh so slow.

Was I wrong
to cut the threads
of myself, my fears, my dreads?
I sigh in peace holding shadows in my head.

the sunshines brightly
casting rays over the lake
frogs croak in the shade

somber grey masses
thunder and lightning rolled
quietening the birds

summer winds blowing
distributing the suns warmth
spreading smiles around