Here I am on a Jet Plane, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. Therefore today’s Throwback Friday poem is a very appropriate finale piece, to coincide with my amazing adventures in Canada over the past 21 days.
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It Was Time To Leave (Revised)
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It’s time to tidy up my mess Clean up the room and get dressed It’s time to pack my suitcase Fill the travel bag and vacate this place It’s time to put on my famous rocker shoes And walk away from this dream come true It’s time to say heartfelt goodbyes To these wonderful Canadian guys It’s time for final hugs and kisses Sad farewells and best wishes It’s time for my usual emotional tears Separate myself from these every day cheers It’s time to flyaway from a land of berries and fairies Leave this magical world of faraway families It’s time to say a million thank you’s For making my stay a Really Real great do It’s time for me to travel back home With glorious memories of this magical Astrodome
In keeping with this week’s ‘Anti-war’ theme, today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in June 2024) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as a poem in Chapter 8, War: A Waste of Time
And I Wonder Why
On a windless winter morn I am walking beside the waveless bay Watching the white wispy clouds Wandering above the whispering trees
And I am wondering why Our worried and weeping world Wantonly wastes time On unworthy and wearisome wars
“Esmerelda”, a wonderfully dramatic song by Ben Howard
Sometimes poems arrive in clusters, even when we don’t plan them. After posting A Fistful of Sand (CHW), another anti‑war piece surfaced, and Beyond the Debris continued that same uneasy thread … It seems I’ve unintentionally written a small trilogy — each poem looking at conflict from a different angle, each one carrying its own weight. Tonight’s piece steps further into the aftermath, where the smoke settles, and the world tries to breathe again.
Solar Isosceles and More Debris
From behind the bushes and trees, crows crash through the branches and leaves.
And flee toward our solar Isosceles, like blind bats that can now see beyond the world’s charred canopy –
a toxic cloud of wartime debris and the smouldering embers of expendable draftees.
There is a clown, with an apricot crown under his dressing gown, who’s swinging upside down on the outskirts of town
The false king is insane, with a selfish brain. He’s inhumane, and greed is his game.
Without shame his aim is to blame anyone whose name is not on his “gravy-train.”
And to close, here’s a song that carries the same simmering energy — a little theatrical, a little exasperated, and perfectly tuned to the mood of this piece.
Featured Image Above:In the last light of day, even a weakened sun can show how much of our shared humanity has slipped away.
Hello, dear readers and followers. I contribute to Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) every second week, and I’m delighted to share that my latest poem,“A Fistful of Sand,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below. >> A Fistful of Sand – Coffee House Writers
Bathed in soft morning light, this bright sunflower greeted me today — lifting my spirits and reminding me how instinctively nature leans toward renewal.
My Sunflower(aTanka)
Good morning sunshine Your yellow blush warms my heart And restores my faith In humanity’s instinct To revive our tired planet
Featured Image Above: Created by Copilot and me. “A circling flock of Corellas rises beyond the golden eye — twilight’s quiet lantern.”
Over at Weekly Prompts, it’s time for the One Day Prompt.To visit their fabulous site, please click >> Here I’ve used a bit of ‘poetic license,’ and only got as far as“One”without the “Day.”
Beyond the Golden Eye
Tonight’s fluorescent twilight sky is strikingly dominated by one enchanting golden eye.
The illustrious iris silhouettes The horizon’s sleepy statuettes,
and a circling flock of Corellas looks like an inverted umbrella, full of luminous candelas.
Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in May 2023) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as the opening poem in Chapter 8, War: A Waste of Time
“And I have carried on this war. Though no one wins an endless fight. I have claimed that God has guided me. And killed to prove I’m right.” Lyrics from Damien Rice’s song, “What if I’m wrong.”
Between Lines, Who Holds the Power
Do you see – a man walking on water? Did you see – his feet were bleeding? Do you read – the missing scriptures? Did you read – your own family tree? Do you hear, speechless angels, singing? Did you hear – the songbirds crying?
Do you feel – the erased wars calling? Did you feel – the hard rains falling? Do you know – the ones who are lying? Did you know, the refugees are dying?
“What If I’m Wrong”, Lyrics, by Damien Rice
I could wrestle with tomorrow Until tomorrow’s in the past Because I have torn apart what’s beautiful To prove that nothing lasts I have stayed locked behind these doors To show there’s no way out I got lost within the space between The question and the doubt I have built a wall between
What I believed and what is true I have sacrificed the love I had For power over you
I have convicted those who disagree And walked over the weak I have placed a gun within the mouth Of those who dared to speak
And on an ordinary day In an ordinary way I have crushed the minds of children With extraordinary shame
And I have carried on this war Though no one wins an endless fight I have claimed that God has guided me And killed to prove I’m right
What if I’m wrong What if I’m wrong What if I’m wrong What if I’m wrong
Is this soul worth saving at all? Cause if I lose my wings then surely I must fall And the gods prayed to the gods they made
We could wrestle with tomorrow until tomorrow’s in the past We could tear apart what’s beautiful To prove that nothing lasts
We could stay locked behind the doors To show there’s no way out We could get lost within the space between The question and the doubt
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 