Poetic Moments

Deep in the amazing Australian bush,

At the end of a long winding dirt track,

Where gumtrees sway in the breeze,

And the only way in is on horseback.

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There’s a small old mud brick house,

With a rusting old corrugated tin roof,

It’s plumbing is a basic sight to see,

And Horses only find dirt under hoof.

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Wildlife come and go as they please,

The garden consists of wildflowers,

There’s a rocking chair by the door,

To relax in for plenty of long hours.

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The verandah’s built for all to enjoy,

Whether they be man, bird or beast,

A tank to catch and store fresh water,

And a barbecue to cook up a feast.

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Inside’s an old cottage appearance,

To delight a beholders inquisitive eye,

For this is the comfortable bush home,

Of the Bushman when he comes on by.

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Here we find a horse,

with a  mane lightly tangled,

From winds and stormy rain,

Flicking it’s great mighty head,

This stallion’s ready to go again.

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Standing on strong, long muscular legs,

After big, tiresome days do ache,

Following a night of rest and care,

Through many more he’ll make. 
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Sporting a soft muzzle, neck and ears,

Filled with characteristic grooves,

A strong, leather saddled back,

And well shod, sturdy hooves.

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He’s loyal to only his master,

And enjoys a fresh grass snack,

Tries his best in every terrain,

Endurance this one does not lack.

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Often found high in the saddle,

Of this beautiful chestnut horse,

Is a man with skin of leather,

Great mind of mental force.

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Pride that of a rich man,

Glazing upon his riches,

A mother of a soldier boy,

Lying await in dusty ditches.

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Kindness that of a gentleman,

Courting a lovely young lass,

Strength that of a small bull,

Grazing on fresh green grass.

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He has utmost determination,

To complete any task at hand,

The Bushman works vigorously,

Across this sunburned land.

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On a crisp, clear crystal night,

Round a campfire he be found,

Telling stories of his great life,

Becoming legends to go around. 
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To read what this man and his stunning steed get up to stay tuned for my upcoming online publishing of : The Bushman’s Adventures!

Death, destruction, devastation,

Cleansing, birth, evolution,

Are dependent upon one’s perspective,

Whatever be the situation.

For a bouquet of stunning roses,

Could be a nightmare for another,

An extra long lizard from one angle,

Could be two viewed from some other.

A child whom to one may seem a bother,

To another is a heavenly gift,

A moment from absolute, complete hell,

Can be a transformative, monumental shift.

Perhaps it be one’s financial perspective,

That differs from all around,

One of never having or being enough,

Or one’s abundance gratefully sound.

One’s whole world is of perspective,

Which is unique for each and all,

Although some may share similarities,

We’ve all our own so embrace your’s standing tall.

Yet one need remember to be mindful,

Of others unique perspectives too,

For aligning perspectives for a mere moment,

May be necessary to evolve on through.

A spark, when doused with water,

‘Tis still a spark within its core,

A nut fallen from a tree,

Can grow strong thus produce more.

A tiger seemingly downed in battle,

Can be the one to win the fight,

Sometimes adjusting one’s perspective,

May be what’s needed to evolve beyond one’s plight.

Sometimes we’re thrown upon a path,

That is far from what we’d choose,

Far from comfort, far from our leisure,

Loaded with pain and elements to confuse.

Yet harnessing this raw power,

And evolving through the harsh discomfort,

‘Tis what can empower one through the dark,

To rise on the other side stronger and triumphant.

One thought, One step, 

One choice, One flower,

One strong bold being,

Standing polar to power.

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One drop of life giving rain,

Giving one vital drop of hope,

One headstrong individual,

Gaining one little inch of rope.

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It only takes one,

To start manifestation in motion,

It only takes just one,

To start an all out commotion.

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It only takes one cell to spilt,

Creating a chain reaction,

Creating entire beings,

Whom in turn create action.

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When all become one,

They gain power emulsive,

To all that stands in their way,

Like a polar magnet repulsive.

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The power of one,

Be it word, step, cell, or team,

Like a grain of sand in an oyster,

Can empower a manifesting dream.

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Disaster. Chaos. Control. En-riot.

All one wants is harmony and quiet.

Restriction. Rebellion. Rigidity in power.

Through cracks come moments to empower. 
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Cracks though meek and seemingly minute, 

Inspiration forced through to compute,

Creations craft their way into being,

In a time that seems so far from fleeting. 
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Holistically time may be mere a fraction,

Universally a moment of compaction,

Through the chaotically ‘tis perceived hell,

On better times ‘tis hard to dwell.

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Yet through insanely bewildering dust,

One blunders on in near blind trust,

Hoping to endure what lies ahead,

Evolving rather than consuming dread.

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For the thought of reaching the other side,

Sparks a speck of joy upon ones ride,

A touch of determination’s to be ignited too,

Whilst trusting the universe to support one through.

Few things are prettier than an outback sunset,

Few things are cuter than a babies smile,

Few things are sweeter than fresh honey,

Or sweet nectar from flowers wild.

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Few things are more bitter than a lemon,

Few things are as fast as light, 

Few things spark like dry leaves inflamed, 

Few things are like the sun warm and bright.

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And although we may try to capture,

Quite a few things that are so few,

They remain there as something special,

Their status still amongst the perceived few.

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For whilst in their element,

These few things may seem opportune near obsolete,

They’re place amongst the whole, 

Gives them nothing to compete.

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Simply by venturing within we can find,

A few things reflecting that are perceived to be physically out,

Internal worlds are a paradox,

For all that we can see about…

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Everything has a spark,

Just that little touch of flare,

That takes them from mundane, 

To elaborate yet seemingly contraire.

Through intensive evolution,

One’s spark can grow and brighten,

Yet after time one’s growth can plateau,

Bringing a new point for one to enlighten.

Thus one’s spark needs a touch of evolution,

To evolve beyond it’s current stagnation,

Reassembly and exploration,

May assist great contemplation. 

‘Till at last one reaches that which is required,

A Moment of intense re-ignition,

Internal fireworks blast one off,

In one’s spark’s evolutionary direction!