Letters
Tiny figures
Imprinted in our minds
Come together in joyous words
Magic
Letters
Tiny figures
Imprinted in our minds
Come together in joyous words
Magic
Hypnotised under a blue southern sky;
I hear, the twitter of birds from the roof,
And rustle of trees in a summer breeze.
Listening, musing, reflecting, the day through.
Soon, I hear, the soft purr of an engine
As a mate, comes home, consumed with folly;
Who, happy and drunk, bellows from the street:
“If only I could win the lottery”
As his laughter fades into his town house
My mind echoes on his conversation.
Images of last night’s doco weighs in
Playing with my thoughts, my meditation.
Today is about the lucky country;
Like a billabong of long time ago
Every nation has been to this great land
Our strong diversity – is all we know.
We are a nation of freedom and choice,
Although it hasn’t always been the case
But we are growing, with education;
And patience, and respect to each other’s place.
We get to breathe the sun and the sea.
We get to dance under the Southern Cross.
We get to laugh and sing to our hearts content.
We never have to be alone, sorry or lost.
Still the helicopter tears through the blue
Like a reminder that all is not fair,
It roars from the mountains to the city
Looking for hope, faith, someone to care.
So, the question of lottery? Is this.
We exist. We dance to our own beat
Knowing tomorrow will come, safe and sound.
We got the jackpot – on humanity!
a creator dreams
her words crafted by beauty
on a summer day
splendour falls from the sky
as if her muse were watching.
Yesterday evening I sat at my desk
to write some thoughts on ‘Serendipity’
’twas a challenge a dear friend had bequest

so it had to be worthy and witty.
My Sharpie lingered; the page stared blankly
as my eyes wandered across the blue room.
They gazed upon my Whovian family
and so my first sonnet began to bloom.
But when a writer begins their writing;
hidden metaphors begin to appear;
words start to link up, and start creating
a sonnet, that wasn’t meant to be here.
Heed this poets call; follow what you see
Alas, it could be… Serendipity!
Sometimes I think you came from old Mondas
Your exteriors so fine, black and sleek.
I find you blunt, painful, frustrating, and crass
Yet you’re with me every day of the week.
Time is an illusion, when you’re around
Everything seems to happen instantly.
Nothing is ever lost, your portal makes it found
Whatever you do, you do it brilliantly.
Our world is full of regeneration
Yet every character remains on stage
It’s not math, just a time stream equation
That our lives our branded on history’s page.
So when you go to upgrade and refresh
Just remember your software knows you best!
Authors Notes:
*Mondas is a fictional planet. The home of the Cybermen – fictional characters in the Doctor Who series. Whovians I am sure (and really hope) will understand the reference.
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