I close my eyes
savouring the memory
of the clash of waves
and rhythmic sway
that rocked my childhood
AP: 2nd place 2025
I'm stand'n, with legs split astride,
One foot on either side,
flip'n on the see-saw ride,
tilt'n from side to side.
Rock'n and Roll'n!
I'm in a juxtaposition
in between a flip 'n flop
You said you loved me!
Now you say, not!
Will you make up your ruddy mind.
I'm in such a bind!
The tides a' going out and coming in.
The sun's arising and setting.
I've given you love, and not got,
no love, back in return.
I'm all stained black and blue.
I wanna be red and yellow,
on the flip'n arc of the rainbow.
I'm sick of the way
the coin always flips,
between agony and bliss,
between I'm happy and I'm sad!
There's a gotta be a better way,
to rock'n on this see-saw grind.
I wanna be heads up, all the time!
I'm stand'n, with legs split astride,
One foot on either side,
flip'n on the see-saw ride,
tilt'n from side to side.
Rock'n and Roll'n!
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
The clock says it's one o'clock.
But its fast, it's on the future,
on the just passed it time.
There's no going back, this time,
On some voodoo time-machine grind,
Get me off 'a this playground ride!
Flip'n in a juxtaposition!
Flip'n in a juxtaposition!
Why do we call the good old days,
good?
Grandma was always talking,
talking about the days that had passed.
I wonder if they were really that good,
or does our mind play a trick on us?
Grandma loved sitting on her porch,
looking out over her land in her rocking chair.
Now the old rustic white fence,
is falling down from the last storm.
Her once beautiful flowers are all dead,
dead just like her.
"By the squeaky old gate that tomorrow will find,"
sits an old tan and orange alley cat.
Oh how she loved to feed her stray cats,
then play with their furry kittens.
Will the squeaky old gate find a new tomorrow,
or be torn down and rebuilt with cement?
the sound of waves rocking to and fro
its golden mirth adorns my sleepy dreams
AP: 2nd place 2025
Though small in size you stood strong' and wise
In your answer to him, of your intended demise!
And that of our fair state.' In our great land.'
For right here i recount of that old 'dingo dan'
He'd paid the blood money, he's bought a plot'
Oh how my blood boils.' And i can tolerate a lot.)
Its plain he had a dirty plan, to cottaging; that spot; on prime Murray river bank land'
Well it did not come good.' No not at all.!
For a true blue builder, rejected that call
He came like a demon..yet left like a cur.!
On that; may freedom loving Aussies all concur!
Keep shunning the dingo.' May mange be upon him'
I praise our publican, may all blessings be on him.!
Life in a rocking chair
in a room bereft of air
Labored breath provides a scare
Rock back and forth, ever harder
what good to die a martyr
Shackled with no name
Been a Slave far too long
Always without fail
Blocked out
Praying to the Heavens
How long?
The Sun beats high and strong
I have been told I don’t belong
I have educated my mind
Read books of endless chapters
Darkened theory
Beaten and torn
How Long?
Night skies being my Race in the day
I run but it is like slow motion
I try to cry but no tears drop
Created from High above
Heaven to think of
Goodness and purpose
How Long?
Dignity and Pride
When will it Truly Arrive?
Determination on whole
God being my threshold
Looking for a Blessing
When?
Tremble and Scare
No one wants to listen nor care
The foundation is on my shoulders
Strength to withstand
All on God’s land
The world sees only what they see
There is no freedom
Trapped within a square and circle
Stuck in but can’t get out
I must bear
Praying, praying and endless praying
Trying to be still and wait
Within is a hesitate
One day the moment, I will be free
A world that shall be judged
Tomorrow will finally arrive
A glorious kingdom and togetherness shall be
Hallelujah Shout
God will brought me out.
In twenty twenty-four, yet I vibe like it’s ‘nine-nine,
Still rocking the rhythm, still feeling divine,
I’m a soldier in the game, got my crew by my side,
Like Destiny's Child, we’re ready for the ride.
Ain’t no scrub yelling from that passenger seat,
TLC taught us, we don’t take defeat,
I’m chasing my dreams, on this journey I roam,
With the echoes of R&B, I’m never alone.
Got my flip phone nostalgia, it rings like a song,
With every beat of the heart, I’m where I belong,
The world may have changed, but my spirit stays true,
In a throwback groove, I’m still feeling brand new.
The colors of the past, they paint my today,
Like scrunchies and flannels, they never fade away,
I’ll dance like no one's watching, with joy amplified,
In the heart of the ‘90s, forever I’ll glide.
With the spirit of the legends, I rise, and I stand,
Embracing the echoes of a carefree band,
So, here’s to the memories, the laughter, the cheer,
In twenty twenty-four, my ‘90s are here!
A breeze did slide in under eaves
and stirred inside the air that grieves,
my children grown my dreams have flown,
alone I sit my rocking throne.
My chair in front of window bare,
I look… but husband’s soul elsewhere.
Beneath my feet the floorboards moan,
alone I sit my rocking throne.
Each day I rock the same tic tock
and change not from my sleeping frock.
Once soft my face now turned a crone,
alone I sit my rocking throne.
The length of cobwebs measure time
they speak no secret sing no rhyme,
but air that’s stirred does tend to drone…
alone, I sit my rocking throne.
I pray to rock myself to sleep
as old-age-chains do rust with weep.
These tears from seeds of sorrows sown,
alone I sit my rocking throne.
The run of beads and crucifix
will not unfix life’s mix of tricks.
A rosary my rope and stone,
alone... I sit my rocking throne.
Of God I beg relief from grief,
unbind my mind from mortal sheaf.
This plea endures like sun bleached bone—
alone I sit my rocking throne.
'Creak creak' says
The old rocking chair
On a tiny old wooden porch
'Aawk aawk' says
The old crow as it
Flies steadily to the north
'Cock-a-doodle-do' says
The red rooster as he clucks
The new day in at half past four
Arise! Coffee's brewing
eggs and bacon on the stove
Hurry! Grab your baskets
Time for pickin' in the grove
Bring your pail out to the barn
Milk the cow and churn butter
Gather a stack of hay in your arms
Feed the baby hereford and his twin brother
Oh what a life in the country
So much work but so much play
When harvest comes there's always such bounty
It's the good Lord we thank each and every day
Just an empty rocking chair,
Survived by hearts left behind,
Hearing the loneliness, the dread
Remembering the life now mourned,
By the rocker’s weeping beneficiaries.
1
leaves withered and grew as the old man sat,
in his wooden rocking chair gently swaying,
waiting for the day to come,
people come to chat and sit,
while he spoke of a better day to come,
and the day came and felt no better or worse,
he rocked and pondered and puffed a pipe,
missing yesterday.
MOM AND DAD STILL HOLD HANDS
AT TENDER AGE 92
WATCH THE PIT FIRE
NOTHING MORE TO DO
BUT SITTING IN THOSE
OLD ROCKING CHAIR'S
I’m trying to glare at people who pass by.
My face isn’t actually glaring though.
My face is soft and droopy.
And sad and bleary.
I’m rocking back and forth.
I enjoy rocking and it makes me lonely.
Everyone ignores me.
When I’m rocking back and forth…
And my vision is going in and out…
I like that they ignore me.
I enjoy the quiet energy around me.
Everyone walking, and they are avoiding me.
Apathy.
We all feel apathy.
a Zen philosophy states
that all form is emptiness
yet it’s not
as all emptiness is form
but in essence not
Plato maintained that
its essence
is in its purpose
the idea of the chair
preceded its existence
the idea of the chair
contains its purpose
while the philosophers are bellyaching
over whether one could and
actually should
fashion a chair out of an imaginary log
we have long ago
carved a rocking chair
out of treasured memories
and apricate at leisure
on the front porch of our own reality
Related Poems