being born (a poem for the obdurate)

kill what you don't understand
annihilate what you cannot control
deplete your resources
murder even the water,
trees, and rocks
you would kill the stars if you could
but reach them
you act like your heart was torn out
as a child

now you cannot steal enough
kill enough --
or cause enough pain
to fill the void where your
heart once was

lay down your arms for the rest
of us
and forego your vengeance for
being born.

.

lilac petals drop daintily

a swoosh of night air and fragrance
pushes the poplars to samba
swishing and swaying seductively
bouncing droplets of rain on
xylophonic roof tiles
beckoning me to join
this unnamed celebration

I escape my lazy chair ways on
loosey-goose legs
(usually stiff as boardroom banter)
and I feel

....TALL!

We kids were all prompt to arrive at the door
for we knew we shouldn’t turn our backs on
Christmas roast at dinner time -
it can’t be left long after out of the oven
for the Aussie bush blowie is nasty
and even with windows and doors fly-wired
doubled over and nailed every inch
the buggers still get inside
and if they get to your dinner before you
well, the sight would make a saint cry
wriggly maggots dropped to feast
on what was going to be our festive meat.
Too much information do I hear you implore??

Field of Stone

I crossed the hills and valleys
And prairies all alone
I forded mountain streams
And found a field of stone

I toiled until my hands bled
And blood mixed in the ground
Baptized in my sweat and blood
Happiness was found

I built a home from all the rocks
And raised a family there
I plowed the fields and grew the crops
In soil so loose and spare

'I watched my children move away
To greener fields and goals
We stayed on; just my wife and I
at the hearthfire of our souls