Author Archives: 12457adlib

060420 Woodstock Generation for years I wept for you as lost, like so many who never retuned from the war you fought to end. Like the four who fell in Ohio. Woodstock Generation, Now, I cry tears of joy for … Continue reading →

17/10/19 Spencer St Station. In a Melbourne winter that falls in summer I’m listenin’ at Southern Cross. ‘We’re just two lost souls swimmin’ in a fish bowl. How I wish you were here.’ Busker chants. And now it’s commin’ down … Continue reading →

01.10.15 Pick a time under the clocks at Flinders Street Station. People are waiting – no sign of Goedt. They wait forever optimistic, they’ll find, meet, liaise with, under the clocks at Flinders Street Station.

Patience She was waiting for a bus on a road where no buses come. High on a mountain, wrapped round with stars. Did no one tell her? There is no point, to wait. But was she waiting— or watching the … Continue reading →

Again I’m seeing bits and pieces of lives loaded into a truck. Generations of memories to the dump. Not that! Grandfather’s old clock. How many nights I lay, listened to its, tick – tock. Sixty years, now. Not that, you … Continue reading →

Lew, I will write a poem for you when you’re gone. (On one condition of course.) I’ll tell of the tales you spun, of painting black stripes on humbugs in your Dad’s lolly factory. Of travelling as a showie, riding … Continue reading →

Lew’s Learning. Your learning wasn’t a comfort to you. Your knots and navigation didn’t cut it in the end, when you had to navigate out of life. Such tricky waters of tide and eddies to trace a path from life … Continue reading →

Lew 3:24 am 150218 ‘This is not sorrow, this is work, I build a cairn of words … .’ J.S. Manifold What’s left of you now, Lew? Cartons full of memories, pieces of paper, dusting, musting old boxes of life. … Continue reading →

Henry I saw Henry fall. Henry, last living link back to Bismarck. I saw him fall, not in love, but in life. I could do nothing. Henry, I could not move to catch, but there is no catch or cure … Continue reading →

Home 02/10/17 Townsville Home now. Pilgrimage over or just begun. I write by torch light trying not to disturb my love and a sleeping ghost. I give thanks for what I’ve unlearned of self and no self. Ten days of … Continue reading →