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
Thinking
The bottom of the pool
Is the colour of rust
Should be vacuuming
Everywhere
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
Throttle
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
Turn
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
Poignant words…I was with you on that motorcycle.
It’s why I ride – quickest way to recall what is important plus it is a wonderful way to travel
I needed this today Kate, thank you
😘
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 would love that! Can you do a recording and insert it into a blog post as a video or something?
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…..
I love this vision of you playing drums – I’m off for a run and my feet can be my sticks, Mother Earth my drum. Stay in touch – love having these conversations
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
Great – glad you liked it – poetry comes in all forms and I try to make it accessible for everyone – some like videos some the words and some like a bit of both 😊
It was beautiful!😊