Can My Poetry Save the World?

“Two things are infinite – the Universe and human stupidity and I’m not sure about the Universe”
Albert Einstein

TPOTG Thinking 01 with Frame


Can my poetry save the world?
Can it drag it back from the brink?
By using common sense and logic,
Encourage people to reason and think.
Stop reality being replaced
By what they try to make us believe;
Stop the dumbing down of a generation,
Now so gullible, so naïve.
Where facts with emotions
Get confused, not separated,
And with the most irrational of fears
Millions are daily indoctrinated.
Where critical thinking by rhetoric
Is being replaced,
Where clear thinking people
With so many challenges are faced,
Finding debate and discussion
Can no longer be used,
 If the groupthink isn’t worshipped,
Then they will be abused.
Questions raised by enquiring minds
Can no longer be asked;
Teaching what to, not how to,
Educators now tasked.  


Will reading my verse
Make people stop and reflect?
Refocus their minds,
Maybe make them suspect
That through their relentless propaganda
It’s a new world order they seek,
Forcing a dangerous ideology
Onto the uninformed and the weak.

Priceless

Some things you just can’t put a price on….

It’s not just the plants that give me such pleasure,
Deep in my garden lies its real hidden treasure.

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I use my garden to grow my soul,
To anchor my roots, to make me whole;
To understand how good it can feel
To weed out life’s trivia, to nurture what’s real;
To connect with nature, finding peace in its earth,
So how can I value what my garden is worth?

Fountain Pen

I haven’t used a fountain pen for longer than I care to remember, and I forgot just how nice it feels. It is slightly more inconvenient than a ballpoint pen or a pencil, but I’m sure that I can learn to live with that; until I spill the bottle of ink, that is!

I found an old fountain pen,
Alas, it had run out of ink,
But I was lucky to find a store
Selling Parker’s famous black Quink:
Now I’m writing with that pen
And it’s oh, so much better,
Resulting in an overwhelming feeling
To write someone a letter.
I can’t remember the last time
I sent anything hand written by post,
Letters are typewritten then printed,
Although I use e-mails the most;
Not forgetting about social media,
Facebook and WhatsApp now the thing,
But the satisfaction of hand writing
Electronic communication can’t bring.



Day’s End

There is something quite magical about sitting and just watching the sun go down….

TPOTG Days End 01

The sun starts to set,
The air slowly cools,
The fierce daytime heat
Now no longer rules.
On the stoep we have gathered
For our usual observance
Of the end of the day,
The sun’s disappearance.

The dog has been walked,
The wine has been poured,
The stoep lamps are burning,
Against insects secured;
The last of the daylight
Lingers far out to the West,
It’s awesome changing vistas,
Stirring senses from rest.

And as night supplants day
The twilight is crowned
By animals orchestrating
That African sound.
Guinea fowl roosting,
Chattering away,
Crickets endless chirping,
Owls having their say.

Haunting sounds
As the day’s put to rest,
Another Karoo wonder
By which we are blessed.
And as the stoep lamps flicker
And we watch the flames dance,
The moths come to join us
On their nightly advance.

Finally by the darkness
We’re completely surrounded,
Our mind, soul and body
Now totally grounded.
Of all of life’s crops
Surely this is the cream,
Sitting here on the stoep,
Living our dream.

 

What Would We Do If The Internet Died?

Scientists who study the sun are pretty certain that at sometime in the future there will be bursts of solar radiation so strong that they will disable all satellites, maybe for a few minutes, or hours, or days, or even longer….

TPOTG Solar Flare Frame 01

What would we do if the internet died?
A burst of solar radiation, all satellites fried,
Useless mobile phones, no signals detected,
Facebook, You Tube, WhatsApp disconnected.

No bank transactions, no salaries paid,
No card facilities, no purchases made;
Selfies taken that you just couldn’t send,
It would seem like the world had come to an end.

Billions of records that no one could access;
Governments and businesses in turmoil and mess.
With digital connections being totally destroyed,
Old school techniques would need to be redeployed.

But those skills are forgotten, or have never been learned;
We’d have to think for ourselves, but that rulebook’s been burned.
By surrendering control to orbiting satcoms
We’ve exposed ourselves to ticking time bombs.

I hope I’m not around to weep and lament,
Witness the chaos and mayhem of this forecast event;
Humanity in a  mess from an internet freeze,
Lost and confused in a world brought to its knees.

 

Breakfast With A View

Perhaps getting up every morning at sparrows fart just so you can sit in seemingly endless queues of traffic isn’t the best way to start your day? 

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Imagine starting each day
In the way that we do,
Breakfast on a stoep
A great mountain view;
Sitting there chatting,
No need to be rushed,
The smell of fresh coffee,
As the plunger is pushed.
Fresh creamy yoghurt,
Nice and thick, not too runny
And drizzled all over,
With local raw honey.
Eggs sometimes scrambled,
As the routine gets changed,
With tomatoes and bacon
For the yoghurt exchanged.
Our day being planned,
Or then again not,
Discussing the weather,
Is it going to be hot?
Watching orioles and drongos
At the fountain drinking,
Planning garden improvements,
Gets the grey matter thinking.
Just chilling out
Before the day has begun,
As we sit on our stoep feeling
Life’s jackpot’s been won.

 

Maybe Ten More Summers

None of us are getting any younger, but as you progress through your seventies  you begin to reflect on just how many more years you actually may have left…

TPOTG Getting Older Acknowledgement

Maybe ten more summers, I hope there are more,
But nothing is certain, nothing is sure.
And at the end of those summers, when the lights fade,
Too late then to regret decisions not made.

Maybe ten more summers, so what should I do?
Stick with the old or try something new?
Another adventure, before I’m too old,
Create some new stories, which to friends can be told?

Maybe ten more summers, our lives are so short,
That time passes so quickly is not something we’re taught,
Feels like only yesterday those teenage years,
No old age thoughts then, no nagging fears.

Maybe ten more summers, choices need to be made,
But with age we lose confidence, become more afraid;
And what if that ten becomes twenty, or more?
If only I knew what life had in store.

Maybe ten more summers, is the time now or never
To stop being so wise, to dispense with the clever?
Is it time to be carefree, just live for the day,
Before my summers are all taken away?

 

Procrastination? I Need To Think About That

Would becoming more decisive be a good decision? I’m trying to decide…..

TPOTG Procrastination with frame

I’m pondering on something that I have just heard,
It’s “procrastination”, an unusual word;
I’m trying to decide if I’ve heard it before,
I think I might have, but I’m not really sure.

Five syllables long, but what does it mean?
I need to find out, (hope it’s nothing obscene),
But I can’t decide where I should look,
Should I go online or refer to a book?

Perhaps ask a friend, but then again, maybe not,
Just in case I didn’t like the answer that I got,
And anyway it might not speed up the task,
As I’d have to decide which friend I would ask.

Should I look this morning; or this afternoon?
Or investigate tomorrow? Today is a little too soon.
Maybe I won’t look at all, oh I just can’t decide,
But there’s no need to rush, I’ve got time on my side.

I think I need to reflect and have a tea break,
Or would coffee be better, help keep me awake?
And the tea or the coffee, in a mug or a cup?
So many decisions, they just keep mounting up.

My voyage of discovery may well be life changing,
So the pro’s and the cons need careful arranging;
I just must be wary as my enquiries are progressed,
Don’t want to do anything that might leave me distressed.

Perhaps it would be better to postpone my investigation,
And forget all about the meaning of procrastination?
At least I feel sure, well, with near certainty,
That procrastination won’t have anything to do with me!

 

Township Dog

One of the saddest sights in South African townships are the large number of neglected, hungry and maltreated dogs that roam around. 

TPOTG Township Dog with Frame

I don’t have a name,
No one ever loved me that much,
And from when I was a pup
I’ve known no gentle touch;
You see I’m a township dog
And ever since my arrival
My days have been spent
Fighting just for survival.
No bowls filled with food,
I scavenge scraps instead,
And I sleep where I can,
There’s no comfortable bed.
I’m often unwell,
But there’s no vet to arrange,
I’m covered in fleas
And my coat’s full of mange.
The long winter’s nights,
I find nothing is worse,
Those freezing cold winds
Are this thin dog’s curse.
I keep out of the way,
Or else I get kicked,
And for illegal dog fights
I hope I’m never picked.
At avoiding deadly traffic
I’ve become quite adept,
A parental skill
I’ve thankfully kept.
I don’t know another life,
Being part of a home,
Being loved and cared for,
Not being left just to roam.
As kindness is not something
I’ve ever known,
Then trust is not something
I’ve ever shown.
But who cares about me?
Why should I be saved?
I’m just a township dog,
Alone and afraid.

 

An Escape to the Country

We’ve made our escape…..have you? 
 
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Away from the noise,
Away from the grime,
Away from the traffic,
That steals our time.

Away from drab buildings,
Uninteresting places,
Away from the graffiti
That so often defaces.

Away from the signs,
The enforced restrictions,
Away from the malls
And those shopping addictions,

Away from the crowds,
The commuting lifestyle,
Away from grey faces
That never smile,

Away from the cameras
That keep a record of us,
Away from the commotion,
Away from the fuss.

An escape to the country,
An escape to more space,
An escape to a life
At a much gentler pace.

With fresh air to breathe
And bird song to hear;
And people with time,
Life drops down a gear.