There’s always that irony

Morning coffee

By the keyboard

The grass lettuce crisp

crunching beneath my feet

Upstairs the sky is sugared

Blue layered pink

The Magpie gurgles in the bushes around the side of the house

The day has not begun

Already the static noise of my thoughts have

A new day on the run

I add to the pile of clothes

In repose by the machine

The northerly breeze

Delivers to me

The sounds of a highway humming

The floor beneath my feet

Could do with a dust

I pull on my boots


The bottom of the pool

Is the colour of rust

Should be vacuuming


Pocket the gloves that I never use

But always carry with me

I don’t know why

Like a spare prayer

I don’t apply

Because I can’t stand the feeling of muffled hands

Gripping gears


The loss of control

Blind fingertips

I tuck them into the tank bag

They’ll be safe there

My spare prayer

Oh the irony!

Roll the bike out

Check the oil

Kick the tyres

Run my fingers across the chain

Pull the helmet down

To protect the brain

Although it traps the thoughts

In there

Where they flutter

Butterflies hitting the glass of my visor

Start the motor


Out onto the road

Those things to do

Calling after me

Become a distant echo

As I pass the first dead roo carcass

Littering the highway

Reminding me

I’m nothing out here

An after thought

On a bike

Nobody important

The sky a dome

My soul could rise into any second

The breath of the wind

Hitting me in the chest

Curling around my fragile neck

It’s good to be nothing

For awhile

The smile of a child

On my face

As the throttle kicks up the pace

And I disappear

Just one of the human race

And not a very important one either

I carry no more weight

Then the birds

The Roos

Or a stray emu that I didn’t see

Come running out of the scrub

Sending me

Where we all go

That great mystery

Which we all turn our eyes aside from

Try to hide

The idea

That none of us are as solid as we think

Our blood runs less permanent ink

Than that sign board advertising

Bullshit to buy and some number to call

With an interchangeable operator waiting by the phone

It’s lettering will fade

Even steel degrades

Shadows flickering

We stand in the light but briefly

It sure feels longer

With all the habits of the living

Yet to the highway

That steals a thousand lives

Every day

All with things to do

Spare prayers to pray

Nothing stops this relentless life

Until it does

Freezes the watch face with broken glass

Time is up

It just ran out

All those important words left unspoken

At least I write

There’s always that

But how many times can you say I love you

Will they remember the words

That I wrote

The small acts

Of bespoke art

That I think matter

Poetry breathing through me

Producing a sigh

We all pass by thinking we’re important

Yeah there’s always that

Oh the irony

13 thoughts on “There’s always that irony

  1. Such a wonderfully written Poem! I enjoyed each and every word of It! Please, keep on writing! You make my Old Heart sing with Joy, I want to play Music for you to enjoy…..If I can just figure out how to record and transmit it I will send to YOU the most Beautiful Music…I will Play for YOU another Poem, a Poem for YOUR EARS to listen to, if I can hear it, and I am 90% deaf, My drums are a gift from the Great Spirit…..I practice on them every-day, because Practice makes Perfect……Or so my Drum Seller says…… ________________________________

      • I have not learned how to do those things yet, I am still in the Learning Stage here on this wonderful Net….I just bought a New Lenovo Computer but I do not know how to turn on the Micro-phone and camera! I am attempting to Learn new things, yet it takes awhile, I would Love to Learn how to Play my Music for YOU! As my Drum seller man is on a long road trip now, he is not here to guide me, yet when he returns, he will be able to show me how to do this…..When I bought that Twelve-tongued drum from him he delivered it in person, such a wonderful Instrument, it has these Ring tones to die for, a Master-Craft Man, made it to Literally Sing for me. In fact I am going to play on it Now!

      • That sounds like a wonderful idea – I think it would bring a lot of joy to people which would of course return joy to you. Meanwhile enjoy your drum 🥁 Music is such a wonderful thing and to be able to play it yourself even better

      • While you were spending time writing to me, I was on those Drums, playing for you, My Soul was in Heaven, wherever that place is, if it it even a place we go To? When I play on my Drums Great Joy fills my Heart! And I feel like I am playing out a song to this Whole World, even if there is no-body there to listen but me…..

  2. Ah, this was lovely! I tend not to go in for poetry, but only because I struggle to find styles that I gel with. This though, this worked really well imo <3

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