Cuchillo hombre!

Cuchillo hombre!

He had adopted the name Zorro.
His apartment was all bright plastic chairs,
framed holy pictures, and crossed
ornamental swords.
There were bull fight swords in
leather scabbards crossed beneath
the bleeding heart of Jesus, and
other mail order swords
on the walls with some machetes.
There were sabers, a cutless, a scimitar,
and two souvenir rapiers from Teledo.
They were next to several pictures
of the Blessed Mother,
St Joseph, and other different saints.
One picture was of St Sebastian pierced
with arrows.
Zorro had a clipped Ronald Coleman moustache
and outstanding pointed and trimmed
sideburns.
In his own mind he thought of himself as
very macho,
a cuchillo hombre!

Poem # 100 Hope: New day Chatham Valley

Breathless below a moon that hovered
inside a silver halo.
Full and perfectly round.
It was beautiful and distant
and then it slipped away
behind the smoke like
grey wool clouds.
The dark came back and it settled
in heavily again,
dark in the wintertime.
The clouds drifted again
floating on the slight breeze,
the moon hovered inside a
silver halo,
full and perfectly round,
and then dark returned.
The moon hovered inside a
silver halo, full and perfectly round.
It was beautiful and distant.
Soft cold rain sprinkled in my face,
and then the caress of a light, silken brush
of warmth.
The dawn light appeared
and slowly began to spread
across the sky.
It had a halo like the moon
but it's halo was golden.

                               October 2016
                              Chatham Valley

Poem # 99 The Last time.

The loneliness of
another can be shocking.
when it lays itself bare
without warning.
I could feel the hollow
chill of her life.
In that moment her
features went skeletal
her beauty vanished
and it looked like
she had fallen to
scraped knees under
the weight of the rain.
" You hate me don't you?"
and she smiled with lips
that twitched at the corners.
"Just.......," she stood, a fist
clenched around her bag strap.
" Just....... fuck you."
She left the bistro and
I stayed where I was,
turned in my chair and
watched her walk up the
street through the drizzle,
bag swinging back and forth
against her hip, her steps
stripped of grace.
Why, I wondered does the finish
always have to be so messy.

                    June 2016, after snow.

Poem # 100 Goodbye little Dex

Goodbye little Dex

They were the three amigos
They were the three amigos
Mr Cu, Teddy, and little Dex
Together forever whatever the odds
Together forever they would go.

Now little Dex is dead and gone
His brave little growl is still.
He has gone to join the heavenly pack
An Angels space to fill.

He has gone, he has gone up the trail
His brave little growl is still.
He has gone to join the heavenly pack
And roam the heavenly fields.

Mr Cu and Teddy are feeling sad,
They are missing their little pal
but he has gone to join the heavenly pack
He has barked his last bow wow.

                   Goodbye little Dex 2011- 2016 no dog turned a love light on
                   with greater intensity.

Poem # 97 The first time

The first time

I looked up my eyes caught yours
you smiled and my world changed forever.
I was paralysed, literally,
I could not move.
Rather than simply looking
into your eyes I seemed to be
able to peer deep into your soul.
I felt stunned.
I can give no better account
of the transformation of my mind than that.
you as an acquaintence
had been replaced as a woman
that I felt I knew as an
essential individual.
Your vulnerability and your
pride were both part of that
I suppose,
as is your beauty, your voice,
and the way you move.
A strand of hair hanging down
made all the difference in the world,
as did the slightest glimpse
of collar bone above the
top of your shirt.

Poem # 95 Drumming with the earth.

Drumming with the earth.

Down the bush track through the gums.
The dry heat lay so heavy in the air as to
become nauseating.
Already we could hear the sound of drums and bells.
The distinction of the sound led to the belief that the quality,
the density of the sound was not the same as elsewhere.
One could distinctly hear the stick striking the skin and the rim
which gave out some sort of note,
but it was then that the phenomenom would begin: a first
beat would carry into the pale grey skys, would extend
hesitantly like a smoke ring, becoming a perfect circle out of
which other circles would form by magic,
ever increasing, ever purer.
The circles passed beyond the trees and rocks,
stretched over the water pools and a long way out
towards the horizon.
One felt them above the hot trees and the rocks,
and they hadn't ceased to be perceptible before
the stick or the hand struck the skin of the drum once more
and other circles of sound were born so as to reproduce
themselves, and then other beats, which one listened
to in innocent amazement, as one watches
a firework.

Poem # 94 Any other day.

Any other day.

" I want to talk about this. It's important."
  " but can it wait until I get some of the
other things I have to do out of the way. "
" Sure."
It was said in a way that communicated
that she wasn't happy about pushing the
question aside.
  " I can see that you are upset now.
Don't be upset."
" I am not upset."
  " I can sense that you are"
' I just want to make it clear that I am
not in your life to be an assistant."
I was never sure in these situations
whether I should smile or not. I
attempted an explanation."
  " I simply asked if you would do me
this favour. If you don't want to do it,
or doing it is going to have all this bad
feeling attached to it, then we-"
"I told you I wasn't upset. Can we drop
it for now?"
I reached for my glass and took a long
drink, draining it. I reached for the bottle
and poured some more.
  " Certainly," I said, wondering if I
should open another bottle right
now, or later when I had finished
this one.