Big Triku ‘Overstimulation’

Silver purple night –

same light that barely traced a

paltry evening disk.

~

Ceaseless resonance of sea.

Clear oystercatcher call travels through

this cool amphitheatre.

~

Clarity of mind,

fine-tuned, no longer blinded,

sensing inner self.

Big Triku ‘Poplars’

Majestic poplars

leaning by the water’s edge,

lightly rustling leaves.

~

A sprinkling of coloured stars

glinting in the winter night, creatures

moving through the shallow light.

~

A flapping ghost, low

above the waving grasses,

sunbeams from the east.

~~

Note: this poem is a spin off concept from the poem ‘Paintings and Flowers’ (Menu, 2018, Poems, Paintings and Flowers)

Big Triku ‘The River’

Gradual hidden

mass scouring rocks – strong sunlight

flashing over black.

~

The world gently bends around

the silent water, my energy

draining down to the darkness.

~

Delicate branching

fractals crossing land, pouring

softly to the sea.

~~

Note: this poem is a spin off concept from the poem ‘Swept Away’ (Menu, 2018, Poems, Swept Away)

Big Triku ‘Half-Turn’

I shall rise, and leave

before the sun, returning

once its light is done.

~

Many years have passed me by

since last I ventured out this way to

feel each moment of a day.

~

When evening comes, I

shall rest, stars twinkling bright, as

the owl leaves its nest.

Big Triku ‘My Challenge’

Towering mountains

reach too high to see. Standing

before them – just me.

~

Yet sunlight cuts the mist and

I see others standing near. My doubts

disperse, my path is now clear.

~

We shall climb as one.

And we shall not turn nor stop

until it is done.

Ode to Summer

Forward: This is one of a few poems I wrote about 30 years ago, when in my mid teens, copies of which were found today. Of course these were very early attempts of mine at writing poetry (so please bear this in mind 🙂 ). I then did not write until 2018, when I started writing poems again and publishing on my blog and on social media platforms.

~

The very colour of the sand, the bugs, their bites, their stings,

the summer breeze, the wafting, warm and salty, bright blue air,

the sailboards still as water skaters casting merry rings,

and sandy feet with bright pink toes and smiles without a care,

and dainty toes which probe along a ferny sun-baked path,

the painted, heeling yachts which drift like ghosts upon the tides,

and merry, thin, warm voices drifting o’er the water laugh.

The back massaging sun which shivers down wet swimmers’ sides,

a swim, a towel, the sun, a sneeze, an ice cream please,

then walk in shorts, shirt, shoes, no socks, through scented plants, dust, bees.

~

Oh Summer kind do you not sit beside the sun and spy

the smallest ant which marches up a saw-toothed blade of grass,

steam engine cows which chug away, a butterfly,

a shady copse, a dead bird ruffled in the wind to pass

away a wondering melody, dispersed her song with time;

the wind flows down the sloping fields and beams upon the life,

and wind tossed grass now blushes in return a secret mime,

whose rhythms join the tune beneath the sinking sun, whose strife

against the thirsty west is drunk away. The rabbits still,

with peaceful eyes, do hear the verse which puffs with gentle chill.

~

The summer light shines bright on shimmering sea and castle walls

which once were shrouded in the winter mist, were hardly there,

but come alive, reveal their splendour, myths of fighting, balls;

and magic dances in the scorching air and everywhere.

It thrills in tourists’ hearts who walk by shady holly trees,

and peer inside cathedrals great, museums cool, and through

the locals, knowing every bush, and calm, and stormy seas.

The eye of heaven burns down from the everlasting blue,

upon a thousand towns with outdoor cafe seats, high rooves,

a million people talking, and the clattering horse hooves.

Big Triku ‘Us’

We are

                                               lost.

Found.

                  Free.

Full.

s   a   i   s
 w  w  n   t
  e    a         o
    p    y          r
     t                    m
                               s.

                                               Lost.

Washed up

      in the lee.

~

We freeze

      as sheer

            translucent

waves,

      pounding down,

            atomised,

                  clothing

savage rocks in

      seething

            white.

~

We

      matter.

~

Let’s

      fill

our

      hearts

and

      face

the

      future

            walking

      hand

in

      hand.

~ ~

Note: this poem is a spin off concept from the poem ‘Who Matters?’ (Menu, Poems, Who Matters?)

(Also see Menu, Poetic Adventures, ‘Who Matters?’: An Adventure Exploring Poetic Technique)