Night's mystery

Darkness closes dearily

Woods lost in night's mystery 

Some creatures of the bright day

Grab some rest and hide away

Others now wake with a grin

Hungry now with empty bin

Some gnawing on a trees bark

Sniffing, stalking in the dark

Searching for food where they can

Waking sleepers so off they ran

Quietly flew eyes open wide

Finding places were food hides

Precious honey hard to find

Searchers will not find bees kind

At least their hive safe in dark

In day bears may try a lark

Owls wide eyes see mystery

Their cover is hard to see

One swoops down to catch some prey

A missed take, he shrugs away

Their world changes break of day 

Sun now rises to say "Hey!"

While river flows bubbling on

Day creatures wake seeing dawn

Straining now between the trees

Hear the humming of the bees 

 

Grump on nature walk

Fireflies glimmering in the trees
They've come out to replace the bees
Snuggled up close to keep alive
Now hiding away in their hive

Now something is breathing in the dark
I hope it is not an Aardvark
Or a bat hanging in the trees
Dropping things and I don't mean fleas

We're slipping sliding in the wet mud
My boots are filling with some crud
Still it's fun to be scared this way
(I'd rather be sleeping any day)

This trip is not turning out well
I want to hear the final bell
What's that chattering...it's my teeth
I'm sure we'll all come to grief

At last a light we're nearly done
The river's source ain't that fun?
People throw in a coin or two
Critters can't spend it, that won't do!

So ends our evening's nature walk
I'll go mad if there's more such talk
There's much to discuss, I don't think
I'd rather wash dishes in the sink

Image found at www.visitmysmokies.com/

The night forest

Now that I am here
I lean against oak tree
Listen to whispers

This is a wild world
The birds having a gossip
The stream tinkles on

A wild cry is heard
Furry creatures quarreling
Love will have its way

Snap of a branch
The undergrowth is stirring
With one shriek of pain

Old foes meet again
Territorial dispute
To talk it over

Perching now stock still
Owl's eyes follow me around
Old doubting Thomas

Looks me up and down
Checks my authenticity
To be there at night

Gets ready to tilt
Into his swooping attack mode
To drive me away

Brushes against my hat
A scream like a Banshee tells me
I am unwelcome

Image found at www.dailymail.co.uk

Home late from work

I got home late from work tired and worn out from a bad day at the office trying to sort out the mistakes of others.

The meal was ready for me and we ate together as if she had guessed what time I would arrive.

She insisted I sit down as she did the dishes as I relaxed in my chair almost ready for bed when she called out "Could you take the trash out dear, they coming tomorrow."

I did as I was told and saw the beautiful starry sky of the still dark placid evening and realized how much I had been blessed.

I heard an owl hoot and the rustle of other creatures of the night as I made my way back inside.

With the dishwasher stacked and the lights turned low my wife was now waiting for me in bed for our after dinner treat, so how could I refuse?

Image found at www.astronomynerd.tumblr.com

My City

The filth and squalor of the city is my home

Its raucous shouts and sounds

Where hope dies fast

And all struggle to last

Perhaps to see another morn

The taxi driver’s sneer, the smell of beer

The vomit in the gutter

The call girl’s smirk

As bag snatchers lurk

For all this I think I was born

For all the music, the shouts and screams

The hopeless vagrants stagger

The flashing signs are a drug

A street light attracts every bug

A lone stranger looks forlorn

Early morning now the screams have gone

Street sweepers takes their place

I wend my way back to my pad

This hectic life is not so bad

Except the glare of honest dawn

Image from www.flickr.com

The girl with tangerine lips

I stood in the street

Watching the city pass by

Kaleidoscope dreams

The bright lights flashing

The sad song of traffic noise

The scent of decay

I was quite alone

Stranger among the thousands

Until I saw her

She cocked her cute head

The girl with the tangerine lips

Her timeless question

 

Why did she choose me?

How could I tell her story?

Whose daughter was she?

Image from www.fallenlog.com

Aftermath of New Year

It was New Year’s Eve

I spoke to this gorgeous girl

She just laughed at me

 

I tried another

But this one just smacked my face

Made me jittery

 

Drank too much that night

My outrageous behaviour

Got me evicted

Chasing a story

You could say I have a split personality, but that is not it. I have been a ditherer for some time, in two minds, even a dual personality you could say. That is not true. It is as though I am frightened of making a mistake, again. I have done that a lot. I hate it. I wasn’t always like this. I was confident once. I could stand up in front of a crowd and make a little speech, throw in a few jokes, get everyone laughing. I could see that others admired my confidence. That is gone now. I am someone else. I am my identical twin. That confident one has gone, left town, skedaddled and just left Mr. Bumble behind...me.

No, I never had a twin brother; there’s just me. But where have I really gone? I was critically wounded on the battlefield. No, don’t get all patriotic. I didn’t do my time; didn’t do service; didn’t fight baddies; didn’t save the world. All I did was to be in the wrong place at the right time. Or is that the right place at the wrong time. Yes, I think that it is it. I meant to be in Hindley Street. OK so it was 4.00 in the morning. No, I hadn’t been to a nightclub or drinking at one of those 24 hour bars that fill you up until you can’t walk then turn you out because it’s against the law to serve liquor to a drunk in this State.

But I needed to be there to do my job. Yes, do my job. I’m a writer and I needed some material so I wanted to get a feel of the atmosphere of the sleazy world. I must have been mad. I’m I writer couldn’t I cheat a bit, lie, make it up? People will believe anything. If you write it down and they can read it, it must be true, mustn’t it?

So I walked by myself drinking it all in, everything except the booze that is; making mental notes. I wrote it all down in my mind, the crowds, the drunks spreading out across the street, walking through the traffic of curb crawling cars, of young girls in skimpy dresses made up to look like tarts, with the working ladies looking as ugly as sin and as hard as nails trying to drum up some custom. And then there were the pushers and pimps and the minders and the cops. It was like one great whirlpool of filth, of shouting and screaming and laughing and music and even some tears too as a girl who looked about 15 vomited in the gutter.

And then it happened...a volley of shots. The scene changed from the carousel of movement that seemed to have some order, and there was panic and people ran every which way. Away from what ever happened, wherever it was. And what of me you ask? I fell to the ground and kept still. My last real sane thought was that if I act dead they won’t shoot me twice. They hadn’t even shot me once but they didn’t know that did they? Whoever they were or wherever they were. When it was quiet again, I slid away down a side street and made my way back home. I was scared, I had wet my pants.

The next day I could hardly string two words together. It’s as though I have a split personality. Oh yes, that is where I started wasn’t it?