as the shadow comes, it goes

A shadow passes near I feel
and tips me with it's wing
as eager as a ring worm
formless, faceless, fearless

A breathe or two ... or three or four
a walk amongst the old worlds
all grecian urn and statuette
will set things straight
like stone

A half diversion
painted thickly
creaks and clinks unoiled
my armour of rice paper
blows away ontop the breezes
blows away far out to sea
leaves me standing here half naked
leaves me standing here ...

this passing shadow passes

a poem for the equinox

brush stroke stanzas
eloquently told
sparring old witches
spells sevenfold
the market square is buzzing
yellow magic fills the street
the magpie saw it coming
like the owl and lorikeet

memory in a box

I overheard an old fella
talk about his memories
the ones he brought out
each springtime blooming ....
he kept 'em in a box
safe from the frosts of bitterness
away from the petulant story tellers

and when he scented the daffies
that blew in from the hill
be they earlier each year
with earnest he said
It's time to bring 'em out
dust the old boys down
and give them a damn good airing

where was I when ....
remember the time ...
those were the days ...
oh how I felt ....

good,bad, sad and exhaltant
thoughtful, dreamy or whimsical
there they were
hung out to dry
living a bit ...
all over again

the problem he said
as I stretched out an ear
is that the box gets bigger
and bigger each year

what a strange fella
I remember I said
I'd rather keep mine
wrapped up in my head