An apathetic person, one who sits upon the fence,
is judged as being selfish – yet aloofness may make sense:
A mind that can see both sides, while undrawn to either one,
will soon flee from that orbit, lured by some other sun.

Since problems in this world will only ever multiply,
if energy and purpose are within, why pass them by?
Society expects us all to fight another’s war-
are all the un-fenced there because they simply can’t ignore?

Or is it that some fill an empty life in such a way
because a person needs a cause to validate each day?
Not everyone seems able to respond to beauty’s muse
and passion may be found in fighting misery. We choose.

Whichever way is followed, each expresses living’s zeal-
subjectively compulsive, in selective realms, all real.
A person who’s creative may be sitting on a fence,
while in the mind, ideas evolve, inspired and intense.


The mystic trusts in doubt-
intuitive unknown.
Belief, within, without,
where fancy is full flown.

Intuitive unknown-
a deep conviction held,
where fancy is full flown.
Then truth and myth will meld.

A deep conviction held-
a wish, an ache, a need.
Then truth and myth will meld
and dreams awake in deed.

A wish, an ache, a need,
combined in faith, enchants
and dreams awake indeed,
spellbinding to entrance.

Combined with faith, enchants,
encouraging belief.
Spellbinding to entrance-
illusion: logic’s thief.

Encouraging belief,
awareness, inner force,
illusion, logic’s thief:
a miracle’s true source.

Awareness, inner force-
belief, within, without,
a miracle’s true source.
The mystic trusts in doubt.


Courage cringes, lost in twilight lanes.
Fear is idolised.
Valour? Vanquished and unrecognised.
The Timid Tantrum reigns.

Bravery? Rejected as a cloak
covering a need.
Heroes scorned as an archaic breed
since Daring’s backbone broke.


The loaded dice of planned approach that we
acquire suggests some hazards in new visions.
We know established methods are the key
to less mistakes and more correct decisions.

Experience can only teach of past
effects. Things alter. Change a step and see
some giant moon-leaps reach a goal at last,
denied when thoughts were full of gravity.

It’s practical to be prepared unless
this limits us to paths somebody knows.
Discovery makes learning a success,
each difficulty is a choice. It shows

an optimist an opportunity.
(The pessimists resist this lunacy.)

Getting Old

In middle age there’s no denying fate.
Let yesterdays be broken links to pain;
let present moments never be too late!
Pursue expression, find a style innate,
a yearning passion that will never wane.
In middle age there’s no denying fate.

Rejoice in lovers’ friendship, celebrate.
Release those still all wrapped in loving chain.
Let present moments never be too late!

Be pensive, muse, demur and meditate-
reflection in a sane and sanguine vein.
In middle age there’s no denying fate.

With open arms we welcome wisdom’s state,
embrace an insight gradually more plain.
Let present moments never be too late!

Believe in growth, this will invigorate
and ward off ebbing energy’s grey reign.
In middle age there’s no denying fate,
let present moments never be too late!


The family is where we learn of love,
forgiveness, understanding, and of peace,
as symbolised in every gentle dove
who flies to open hearts that find release.

In times of stress our sharing must increase.
A willingness to put our family first
helps selfishness and self-involvement cease.
Serenity fills hearts, in love, immersed.

Escape from outside pressures when they’re worst,
there’s peace in knowing where we all belong.
If bruised and lonely spirits need be nursed,
true families love even when we’re wrong;

accepting when we don’t do as we should,
forgiving, imperfections, understood.

The Corporate Listener

Her office is a cosy place
made warm with witty walls,
the droll and wisdom interlace,
a fixed smile safely falls.
She listens and dilemmas shared
become a conference base.
In trust, eyes meet and hope is dared.
Another hard-won grace.


Without a friend life’s race would spiral in.
A friend will travel with me, sometimes lead,
then take my hand to run in parallel
and never stride ahead when I’m in need.

A friend will be an anchor in a storm
when darkness overcomes my commonsense,
so we can pull together to survive
and triumph over waves that seem immense.

A friend will mirror all my dearest hopes;
reflection bares the inner person’s core,
right past the part presented to the world,
revealing secret dreams unshared before.

A friend is proof that we have lives of worth;
we sing in chorus, allies breaking trail.
Each validating choices, yet prepared
to gently lift up any ego veil.

To be a friend is living life in full;
it’s being both a guard and advocate,
a champion, a solace, needy too:
one-sided friendship would be desolate.

The Hunt

The challenge of the chase
through a life where jungle chokes,
paints a purpose in rich hues
like amusing masterstrokes.

In the heedless rush for prizes,
whether matter, or of mind,
sacrifices are ignored
and supporters left behind.

When we follow in pursuit,
honing hunting crafts, we thrill
to a tutor’s guidance, leading,
in degrees, towards a skill.

When the hours are compressed
into moments while we strive
with intensity, we know
rainbow chasing is alive.

For the challenge of the chase
may be lust to consummate
but insatiable desire
can’t deny more targets wait.

Blazing Trails

The tattooed face that scarred a track so long
ago still haunts each forest monolith.
Those aging giants all record the throng
of travelers whose trials turn to myth.
Some routes are ancient; inner rings were scored
to mark the way now widened, clear of most
debris. We hear the stream and find the ford.
Much newer detours wander through a host
of sights with timeless beauty now preserved.
A hunter follows imprints that declare,
‘This way was passed before’, as if reserved
but undergrowth shows limits most won’t dare.
To many, blazing trails seems bizarre:
enchanting forest paths may lead you far.