Poetry

You’d have thought it was obvious Wouldn’t you? That a world divided between poles Isn’t a world But a mess At odds with its self . You’d have thought it was obvious Wouldn’t you That a world of two poles

When All is disparate Nothing works To bring what passes Into confluence Around its self In tangible formation From intangible diffusion For a while Before returning whence it came Ready to reconfigure Afresh But not without learning From past experience

A river does not decide in advance Where to flow It simultaneously both shapes and is shaped By landscape As it creates and follows Paths of least resistance From sky to sea And back again . So it is With

Strange as it might seem To recognise our non-responsibility For what happens in our neighbourhood To us and all about us Brings humility and compassion Caring, not carelessness . Whereas to assume responsibility For all and sundry Brings pride and

Compassion fruits And Old becomes New In the vitality of heart-mind When receptive influence Transcends executive force . But until then Human life Will remain a hotbed Disfigured by strife . Isn’t it a pity? Now, isn’t it a shame?

I am upset by shouting matches Between those who place themselves at Poles Apart I am upset too when the shouters shout at me For seeking the Peace between Their strident voices I have dwelt here all my life Yearning

Dear caretakers of the Earth If you truly want people to pay heed To our pressing need To look after the life of our planet To look after the life of our selves Not greed Please STOP Describing life as

Deep inside me Is a terrified child Craving reassurance That all has been well And all will be well In the end Despite all the doubts that assail him All around me Are confident adults Expecting me to be like

A life deserted By fearful intrusions Leaving nothing to celebrate From past endeavours Is what I am living through As I mourn this passing of promise Into bleakness This barren landscape With only shadows for company . Why did it

You may live the dream But I am living the loss As all that I have strived for By way of fruitful harvest And contentment Is diminished by predatory instincts Ripping flesh from bone Without a care for what remains

The fear of being discredited Leads me to discredit myself Evacuating my spirit Into ghostly form Without substance to call upon To back up my claim To worthwhile contribution To human affairs As all that I have endeavoured To provide