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 after all……..

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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.

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A Snooze or a Brew….Which is Best?

Perhaps the top of the hill is the best place to be?

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I’m over the hill now,
Soon I should be picking up speed,
But a life somewhat faster
Is not something I need.
Most things are still working,
Have my own teeth, my own hair,
And at a finely turned ankle
I still like to stare.

I should really be grateful,
There’s no need to complain,
Old age has its benefits,
There’s so much that you gain;
If you sit there a minute,
Then I’ll write you a list;
But … perhaps a little snooze first,
They’re so hard to resist!

OK…. I’m back again,
Just a short power nap,
Too much thinking these days
Makes the energy sap;
Now something about a list?
First …. give me a minute or two,
I think I’ll just put the kettle on,
It must be time for a brew!

OK that’s better!
Now what were we saying?
(Memory’s not at its best,
At the edges it’s fraying.)
You were going to give me a list
Of what I would need
If I wanted to go faster,
If I wanted to speed?

No…. that won’t be necessary,
This slow life is fine,
I’ve found the top of the hill
To be a good finishing line;
So I think I’ll just stay here,
Not go over the crest.
Now …. a snooze or a brew?
Which do you think is best?

 

Apathy – A Story About Today

“Apathy is the glove into which evil slips its hand” 
Bodie Thoene

It’s the story of our apathy,
That I watch unfold,
I’ve written it in rhyme,
That’s how my stories are told;
It’s a story of how
We succumb to pretence,
And how fear and ignorance
Defeats common sense.

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A story about how privacy
And freedom of speech,
Will soon be just memories,
Taken out of our reach;
Of how with indifference
We are now so infected,
And of how we’ve become
So politically corrected.

A story of children
Being schooled, not educated,
Caught when they’re young,
Their minds impregnated;
A story of democracy
Brought to its knees,
Being ruled by world bodies,
Governed by appointees.

A story of falsehoods,
By politicians conceived;
Like man-made global warming,
How is that ever believed?
Brainwashed by propaganda,
The lack of understanding shows,
So many now spellbound
By the emperor’s new clothes.

An Orwellian future
Brought on by this apathy;
Our governments not controlled
In the way they should be.
Increasingly we’re indoctrinated
Into a minority’s way of thinking,
The foundations of our culture
Into the mire slowly sinking.

A reflection of our time
Of achievements reversed,
How by our ambivalence
We seemed to be cursed,
Our liberty just grains of sand,
Through careless hands poured,
We’ve abandoned life’s anchors,
So how are we secured?

To many out there
My story just won’t appeal,
Dumbed down and confused,
Can’t tell the false from the real;
But my story’s no fiction,
It grieves me to say,
It’s the story of our apathy,
It’s “A Story About Today”.

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One Day As A Tiger

The world is full of sheep.

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Better one day as a tiger
Than a hundred years as a sheep;
A promise I made
That I try keep.
True to myself,
Not following the crowd;
An independence of thought,
Of which I am proud.

Our freedom of speech
Is under attack,
Our own fault really,
Reflects the courage we lack.
Hard earned freedoms
Simply being taken away,
Be careful what you think,
Be careful what you say.

From history we should learn,
But not anymore;
The lessons of history
We choose to ignore.
Less well informed,
But with more information,
There’s no power in knowledge
For this generation.

I’m probably being targeted
In my poet’s role;
Not conforming to the narrative,
Not under control.
With my freedom of speech
Not politically corrected,
On the government’s radar
I’ll soon be detected.

They might try to isolate me
For the things that I write,
But I won’t be intimidated,
I won’t give up my fight.
Not an activist really,
Just exercising free thought,
In mainstream media’s web
I refuse to be caught.

Say what they want to hear,
Don’t dare speak the truth,
Don’t argue their reasoning,
Don’t dare ask for proof.
Free thought and opinions
A threat to the nation.
However did we end up
In this sad situation?

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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

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Can my poetry save the world?
Can it drag it back from the brink?
By using common sense and logic,
Encourage people to think.

Stop reality being replaced
By what they want us to believe;
The dumbing down of a generation,
Now so gullible, so naïve.

Where facts from emotions
Are no longer separated,
And with the most irrational of fears
Millions are so easily indoctrinated.

Critical thinking by rhetoric
Is now being replaced,
And those who try to reason
With so many challenges are faced,

Finding debate and discussion
Is no longer being used,
 The group think must be worshipped,
Or they will be abused.

Teaching what to, not how to,
Educators being tasked,
An enquiring mind’s questions
Can no longer be asked.

So will reading my verse
Make people stop and reflect?
Refocus their minds,
Maybe make them suspect
That through relentless propaganda
It’s a new world order some seek;
Forcing their 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?

 

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Days End

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

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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.

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Garden Refugee

There is nowhere I’d rather be………………

A person who seeks out a refuge
Is known as a refugee,
When you find me in my garden
Then throw that mantle over me.
It is my church, my special place,
A sanctuary where I find peace;
The world outside is kept at bay,
And my soul can find release.

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With hoe in hand or watering can,
Under cloud or the blistering sun,
Life’s petty worries are cast aside
And with nature I become as one.
My garden’s where I can truly find peace
As my plants I lovingly tend;
A safe haven that beckons me every day,
My refuge that’s become a best friend.

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The feel of the earth as I work with my hands
Makes the spirits inside of me rise;
I can think of no place I’d rather be,
No better sight for my sore, old eyes.
How can I value these gifts I receive
As my garden keeps on giving and giving?
I’ve found my asylum, I’ve made my escape;
A garden refugee; what a life to be living!

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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…

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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?

 

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Procrastination? I Need To Think About That…..

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

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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 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!

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