milestones.html

Here is a collection of my own poems that I will add to from time to time. I have grouped them into two selections, "Milestones", in which I take a look at some of the influences that have helped shaped who I am today. Then there is, "On The Lighter Side", and some of these will be just a touch, tongue-in-cheek. I hope you will enjoy wandering through my poemfolio.

Part One: Milestones

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home milestones on the lighter side_________________________________________________________________

Blue Chicory, For Your Hair

Teasing breeze coming straight from the sea,
I smell on it your hair,
now your laughter and impish smile,
I remember the April Church Fair.

I belonged to your sky, to the blue of your eyes,
with our circling gulls, and their loud knowing cries...
and that warm summer sun melting souls into just one,
and two sweethearts who were longing to dare.

I felt then your first swim, in the pool of my mind...
sweet ripples of love, we no longer blind.
You wanted my strength, but asked I be gentle
as you lay in my arms, under night's so soft mantle.

Painted ferries arriving, they bring people bright,
you came again this year, I dreamed so last night.
Will we dance together, afore summer's end,
bare-footed on wet grass in quiet Glennich Glenn?

Time closes in, seperations to school,
will I hold you again, or have I just been a fool?
Someone disembarking, a certain charm,
now the smile on your face as you run to my arms.

Kind moon to watch over us, we sit in our glenn,
I weave blue chicory for your hair.
I touch your soft lips, and I kiss them then,
'tis that time, when young lovers should dare...

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Arrivederci, To A Mentor

I once knew the hard man I see in my dreams,
rangy, wore hard working clothes.
Ate his porridge standing up, no sugar, no cream,
and a wife beautiful, just like the rose.

From him I would learn, I heard myself say,
I will learn to be hard, to be good,
and I will study this man, all through my days.
study him, and grow hard like I should.

This man worked two jobs, his rose to support,
he nourished, she flourished, and she slept with Abranio,
and the hard man kept working, with nary a thought,
that his rose shared another man's pillow.

I watched and grew sad, she so untrue,
he, his whole life just a hell.
I wondered and searched, what can I do?
Then I knew it was for me to tell.

"Hard man you should know that your wife is untrue,
that your marriage is falling apart.
And for all your hard work, there is naught to show,
surely, she breaks your poor heart."

A sad little smile, on that tired and lined face,
for a time he looked down at his shoes.
Then he turned to me and with considerable grace,
said, "Young man, ah already knows.

"Ah works hard all day, for her to provide,
everythings that she desires,
and ah loves, ah really loves, my pretty wee rose,
but one man just can't put out her fires."

'Twas one year later we buried my friend,
at his funeral I wept and I said,
"Don't leave me hard man, don't make this the end,
you cannot really be dead."

But my friend never left me, for in times of great need,
by my bed he will suddenly be,
in my dreams that tired smile, and his wisdom to heed,
hard man, 'tis nice that you're free.

Ci provo Ettore, ci provo.
I try Ettore, I try...

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A Rose And A Poem

Smartly dressed and beautiful, slightly reddish hair,
a spring in her step, sweet smile on her face, eyes deep green and clear.
I fell in love with her that day, I wanted her so much,
craved for her attention, soft words and gentle touch.
I set my cap for milady, and knew I'd win her heart,
a life for us together, till death we would not part.

She was awfully intelligent, so learned and clever,
she had her pick of any man, I knew I'd need a lever.
So I sat me down one nice night and I wrote for her a poem,
that told her how I worshipped her, 'twas time that this be known.
And I told her how I'd care for her, for the rest of her dear life,
there was nothing more I wanted than to make her my loving wife.

I sealed my words of love and wrapped them 'round a rose,
red as her lips, sweet as her breath, I knew that this would close
the case for my declaration, of my undying love for her,
and how sweet it would be for all time, our lives to spend together.
I took it to her house that eve, where she met me with that smile,
and I sat there as she read it, quietly praying all the while.

She read it through, I held my breath, and I found I couldn't speak,
her parted lips, that flush on her face, and the tear on her soft cheek.
She turned to me and she took my hands and she bowed her head and said,
"Oh Tony I am so honored, that I would share your wedding bed.
But I am your art teacher, and I'm sure this would be seen,
as wrong, for I am aged twenty-nine, and you are but thirteen!"

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Seduced, By An Ocean

She had never seen you before,
deep, brooding,
tiny wavelets flow to your shore,
an ocean, constantly moving.

She walked bare-footed on your sand,
you put your moon to watch her.
On stirring air, your sirens' band
she looks into you, and in a murmer...

"Where do you come from, mighty sea,
where have you been before?
What in your travels did you see
before you found me on this shore?"

And you spoke. And she opened her mind to your spell.
Those smiling lips apart,
ear to whispers from sighing shell,
ready to follow her wayward heart.

"I come from the east and I come from the west
from lands far too many to count,
and I have seen people whose lives have been blessed,
from peasants, to kings on the mount.

"I am strong and all knowing and can offer you much
from riches to love and good marriage.
So if you are looking for riches and such
come ride in my watery carriage."

With hope in her heart and a spring in her step
she ran into your welcoming arms.
I called out too late, she went into your depth,
she succumbed to your treacherous charms.

Tiny wavelets now at ebb,
your conspiring moon has gone.
In her footsteps I sadly tread
Alone, I cannot remain alone...

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The Smallest Fisherman

I watched their faces closely, looking for alarm,
the sea was twenty-footers, would we come to any harm?
I grasped the railing tightly, as we slid from trough to trough,
all around me moved the color, of the yellow MacIntosh.

My task to bait the hooks, of the heavily weighted lines,
huge bottom-dwelling grouper were to be this day's great prize.
'Twas the first time I was here, off Kaikoura's rugged shore,
and at twelve I knew this was my time to become a man and more.

Lightning ripped the sky in half and the storm poured through the rent,
it's fury beat my body till I was almost spent.
Lines on high, victory cries, silver flashing on the deck,
quick as a wink I baited those hooks and the men would throw them back.

I was getting cussed good-naturedly, but I knew that I belonged
with these burly native fishermen, and I joined them in their song,
songs of wives and sweethearts, and songs of fickle fate,
and I knew that I was safe with them, and God as my shipmates.

Ne'er had I been happier, a chance to prove my worth,
muscles burning, both hands raw, the luckiest boy on earth,
I watched the Southern Cross appear as the Capt'n swung us about,
"We're headed for home!" the men all cried, a joyous and mighty shout.

No one spoke as we slipped into port, faces drawn and grey,
we'd done our jobs, we'd fought the fight, 'twas but another day.
I wondered at the meaning, of this act in life and more,
I marvelled at life itself, as we tied up to the shore.

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Cry, For Happy
A True Story of a Little Shoeshiner

The tears that slipped freely down from her eyes
were lost in her honest sweat.
He seemed to want only to make her cry,
to watch eyes red, swollen and wet.

Her pained back was bent, her tired gaze was fixed
at the scuffed shoes upon his feet,
he was thundering at her, and with feelings mixed
she carefully began to speak...

"I'm so sorry sir, but I'm doing my best
to please you and make your shoes shine,
and I do know you have a plane to catch,
please be still sir, you'll be done in good time."

All her life she'd been taught, at church and at home
to be quiet, and to just do her work.
Never to sigh, never to moan
and certainly never to shirk.

He reached down and pulled the plug from the wall
of the fan, that cooled her poor head,
then he smiled at her, as though wanting to be cruel
as he plugged in his laptop instead.

"The amount of the tip I may give to you
is going to depend on whether,
you just close your mouth, and get to each shoe,
so shut up and polish that leather!"

A stranger walked up, and smiled at the lass,
he removed the plug from the wall.
"I'm sorry young lady, you suffered this ass,
once again, you can keep yourself cool."

"And now sir you there, with your laptop and cane,
it's high time you got out of that chair,
And if you have, even half of a brain,
to return to this place, you'll not dare."

Her champion sat down and she polished his shoes
and he paid her twice for her labor,
he had charged to her rescue and banished her blues,
a truely remarkable favor.

She watched her knight leave, her heart feeling glad
and she smiled at the thought of old "lappy."
Again the tears fell, but no longer for sad,
they were quite simply, tears for happy.

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The Spud Picker

We couldn't see the tractor for the dust that filled our eyes.
I bent my back and dragged my sack and swatted at the flies.
Breathed through my bandana, body bathed in sweat,
we were picking spuds at Sefton, paid three shillings a sack.

Not long ago turned thirteen but told them I was more,
big and strong and healthy, and determined to ne'er be poor.
There were twelve of us that morning, trying to make some dough,
eyes to the soil, backs to the sky, followin' that bad backhoe.

Gulls, starlings and magpies, suddenly getting bolder,
looking for fresh dug worms and now, a fantail on my shoulder.
Straightened my back, tied my sack as I thought of my new girl,
and our first dance that very night in the hall on One Tree Hill.

She was new in town and lovely, sought by every boy in school,
we all wanted her for our own, this girl who stood so tall,
but when I held her in the gym that day and kissed her lips like wine,
it sent a message to every boy in class that this magic girl was mine.

High sun at noon and the bugs were fierce when they signaled for a spell.
I had bread and cheese wrapped in a towel and water from the well.
Dragged ourselves off that field to the shade of the cool palm trees,
And we sat there eating hungrily, bodies drying by Pacific breeze.

We'd had three dates already, took her swimming in the Waimak waves,
Showed her how to dive for lobster, hid in underwater caves.
We dug the pipi shellfish, and cooked them on the sand,
and we lay on the beach, and made our plans for us dancing with the village band.

The whistle blew and the paymaster paid, and I ran down to the ocean,
Dived in deep then floated, washing and bobbing with the motion.
My heart grew huge and pounded, thinking about this night,
after the dance, alone on the hill, holding her oh so tight.

Sun dipped low and it was time to go, with roses from Mamma's arbor,
I was growing up and knew it, taking a measure of my ardor.
Thought about life, thought about love, and thought about the thrill,
of asking her to marry me this night, under the stars on One Tree Hill.

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Paddington Girl

Oh no Paddington Girl, I'll not let you break my heart...

'Tis a beautiful part of Olde Sydney Town,
sun-kissed lassies driving Volkswagons abound,
fruit peddlars and delies on quaint Oxford Street
and the blaze of bright colors and the haze of the heat.

Paddington la belle, a fun turmoil for each,
just four short miles to that famed Bondi Beach.
You'll find beautiful people, youth and fast money,
And it's where I first met you, who would be my honey.

And you've been trying to win me, all this time...

Beautiful you with your laughing blue eyes,
winning the hearts of all of those guys,
atop this bar table, those bare dancing feet,
full hips swaying to the seductive beat.

I bring out the memories of those other men
and I count their faces, just three less than ten
who all fell in love with your bright wanton way
and you loved them each once, then cast them away.

So now your dance is more blatant and bold,
I look deep into those eyes which now look as old
as those of the courtesans down through the ages,
but I will be strong, and as one of the sages.

Paddington Girl... no father nor mother?
Someone who loves you, perhaps a strong brother,
someone who cares and to whom you belong,
someone to watch over a girl so headstrong.

I feel as Odysseus, I have listened too long
to your Daughter Of Ceto's, sweet siren song.
And even though this will task my young heart,
the time is now, I sail off into the dark.

Arrivederci Paddington Girl, to you and your wile...

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