No agenda and no friends

Sometimes life does not work out as we plan, and rather than dwell we write. Humour can often soften the blow.

I had no intention of coming

There were things to do
Holiday packing
A winter escape
A reef to explore

Don’s email arrived
Could I help?

Duty called.

At my age
Nature most often calls.

I welcomed the change

The keys,
I forgot the keys

“We will leave it open.”
The Director says
and they did

The best laid plans

A well-meaning Samaritan
security conscious
made sure
all was well

The door
does not budge

The temperature
drops

My friends due to arrive
any minute
will expect
a warm reception

Phone a friend

Sympathetic,
but unable to help
having done all she could
and all she promised

Phone home.

“Use the library,” she says
Borders has coffee
I counter

It’s not yet winter
but who can tell?

Canberra nights
do not make good bedfellows
however,
they do encourage you
to look for one

I huddle in wait
knowing coffee
will ease the burdens
of a writer’s group
minus an agenda

We could not visit humour
yet humour visits me
sheltered
in a darkened doorway

Six thirty comes
I order coffee
for one

I never intended to be here

Duty done
Nature calls


BJR

Desolation

To be, and to be seen
as unique
special in the eyes of love
not one of many
fitted
as hands to a glove

To be felt there
love
within this heart to touch
a life spent hoping
expecting
could it be too much?

Doubt,
sow the needless seeds
no sleight of hand exists
I am the one,
not seen
through a world of mists

Crushed
repeatedly
self-respect slain
the battler
now too weary
craves freedom from the pain

How builds the teary glaze
that befalls
the long lost bard
imposters reign, the mighty fall
age weary,
is a new dawn too hard?

Courage
for one last effort
to seek the final treasure
to feel complete, special, wanted
giving,
so others reap the pleasure

Friendships are hard to find
don’t waste them
this commodity is rare
these words reflecting my soul,
my deepest thoughts,
are not written for flare

One last try
win or fail
happiness, my mind screams
respect, regard, craved a lifetime
trust and love
life’s ultimate dreams.


© Bernard J Rossi

Transparent beauty

Often our poems tell stories that lie deep within our own thoughts, other times we describe the vision that greets our eyes. We combine two images into one and dream of the illusion it creates. These poems can give rise to vigorous discussions when a poet hits the right note between the obvious and the underlying.

Transparent Visions

The rising sun transforms the veil
Sheer and free flowing
Accentuating the magnificence
Painted on a mountainous background
Familiar silhouettes reach out
Giving hope and promise
They will penetrate the winter mist
Loosely covering the tantalizing ranges
Proud and unimposing
Ravenous they beguile
Gliding down the undulation
No attempt to hide the seduction
Underbrush, wild in nature
Trimmed to perfect shapes
Hidden only from the blind
Behind no more than nylon and lace
Rivers run freely
Driven by nature’s urge
Calling to the animal
Wild and optimistic
That sight will transform
Beckoned to be touched
Until mind and picture embrace
Merging their treasures into one

© Bernard J Rossi

Sirens

This is one I would like to recite to you, but alas ...

Sirens

Sirens scream
Off in the distance.
Are they coming for me?

Trapped

Plotting paths
Seeking me out
Are they coming for me?

Helpless

Blue, red
Visions in my head.
Are they coming for me?

Unyielding

Dancing lights
Relentless in their warning
Are they coming for me?

Numb

Fear attacks
Rises up in my throat,
Are they coming for me?

Fading

Crumbled wreckage
Surrounds my body
Are they coming for me?

Hurry



© Bernard J Rossi