Hear The Thunder

My tired voice is crying out, “there’s no time to wait !!”

Pleading, along with the world’s impatient majority

We need to hear the thunder, of peace bells ringing

Ringing to the crescendo of peace doves singing

The chimes are loud and clear

Loud enough for the universe to hear

Even through white marble walls

You’ll hear the thunder of the peace bell’s … call

We the people, from the planet’s four corners

Are united by our textiles woven together

We’ve attached our hands firmly to the bell pull

And tugging the pull cords, the thunder of the bells shall ring

We are gathering in every backyard

Every church hall

Every city street

Every farmers paddock

Every heavenly peace dove is escaping

You will see the doves flying high above

Even through the towers of tinted glass

You’ll see the peace doves … soar

Even through their white marble walls

They’ll hear the thunder of the peace bells … call

Even through their towers of tinted glass

They’ll hear the crescendo of the peace doves … call

Hear the thunder of peace bells ringing

Hear the crescendo of peace doves singing

Calmness On The Bay

There’s a serene tranquil calmness

Hovering over this panoramic bay

The cloudy sky’s silkily reflected

Upon it’s benign smooth waters

The shoreline’s fresh-air is gently cool

Creating a peaceful atmosphere of awe and wonder

Impressing local onlookers and tourist alike

Beholding a picturesque, enchanting balminess

Soothing to all those enraptured souls

Fortunate to view the waterfronts afternoon artistry

Blue Yonder: By David Francey, Lyrics

Here on the ground
It’s a long way down
To the land down under
And all I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
Id’ beep in the sky
And I’d be higher than high
And it’s no wonder
That all I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
Into the blue yonder
Into the blue yonder
All I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
I’d be up in the clouds
And I’d be laughing out loud
With the world to wander
And all I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
I’ll be into the blue
And I’ll be gone and through
And I’ll be out from under
And all I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
Into the blue yonder

Into the blue yonder

All I want to do

Is ride into the blue yonder

A Picture Story

Every picture tells a story

I will not show the bloody war pictures

No need to add to the gruesome tale

Everybody knows the score

Our leaders know, how many were lost at war

Instead, I’ve a different photo, of a tablecloth

A wedding gift of my parents

Now my family heirloom

Aged over seventy years old

Embroidered Peacocks on fine linen

I wonder how often the tablecloth has been used

Not as many times as nuclear bombs have been fused

How many people have sat around the tablecloth and eaten

Not as many people as the war’s have maimed and beaten

Ask world politicians and know-all dictators

They’ll all know the forgotten bloody score

That’s my enduring tablecloth picture story

Same old hidden facts of hell and rancid glory

That Nightly Sound

I’m at my desk wondering

Sitting here deeply pondering

Whether I’m a strange sort of writer

And am I, an only loner

My keyboard is covered in moisture

A wetness from my overflowing tears

I cry about my latest plight

I cry for the world’s hungry, sleeping tonight

I cry during Xavier’s song, Spirit Bird, like the, Last Post

I cry for the children, the ones we have lost

My heart bleeds tears from within

My heart writes with soul filled ink

My heart dampen’s with every word I weep

My heart floods with emotions every time I sleep

I was wondering

And I am pondering

Do other writers, hear that nightly sound

Hear the pitter-patter of naked feet

Hear the noise of shuffling feet in their sleep

Hear their dirtied feet, the millions of poor children, yet to eat

The Golden Beach

I’d like to thank Gina, of Singledust, and her glorious poem, ‘last pure light’, on “Go Dog Go Cafe”, for inspiring me to write my poem, ‘The Golden Beach’, please click >> Here, to read her wonderful words. Also referring to this weeks, Weekly Photo Prompt: Tradition, yes it’s an Australian tradition to spend Christmas at the beach

Staring over the ripples in my cuppa tea

Gazing at the future forecast by the tea leaf’s

I’m visualising waves upon the morning sea

And the sensation of the sand beneath my feet

Oh to walk on the golden beach again

Inhale the fragrance of the wind caressing my skin

And to swim in the rejuvenating ocean

Feel the surf’s spray on my body, like warm rain

The tentacles of fresh air draw you in securely

An aura of purity and peace abounds richly

There’s a crispness from the sun that warms your heart

And a cleansing depth within the surrounds that soothes your soul

Breakfast Tea, Lemon And Ginger

Today’s dawn is crisp and foggy

A gentle chilly breeze tingles my skin’s awakening

The cold air’s magically refreshing

As I sit here under my verandah

Protected from the cool settling dew droplets

Wetting every piece of exposed ground

Moisturising my garden’s fernery

Greenery leaves glossy and glowing

I sense my cheeks are warmly blushing

Feeling filtered rays of morning sunshine

Welcoming me to another enriching new-day

Against the Next War, The Next Hell

Against the Next War

Hello dear Readers, I’m presenting this important poem written by, Sarah, of Fresh Hell Poetry, for you all to read. An absolutely outstanding piece of poetry, definitely one of the best anti-war poems I’ve ever read.

Fresh Hell Poetry August 20, 2018

In response to CafePhilos’s call to make peace viral. A noble effort, and worth a try. Please give his post a read.

“Trying to do a slam-style poem. I really hope the audio turned out OK on this. Apologies if it’s too quiet, I’m still figuring out how to make videos.” – Fresh Hell

Don’t Feed Them

If I imagine them
Taking my brother away to war

I shatter.

I don’t want to lose anyone.
Especially not to something as stupid
As war.

Maybe you like the idea of war
Because you’ve confused real life with action movies.
Maybe you hate another group of people for what they have done.
I can’t convince you to forgive another’s atrocities
That is something you must grow into on your own.
But I can beg you this:

When dogs of war bark
Don’t feed them.
You will be told it is the honorable thing
To die for your country.
You will be told you have enemies abroad
Monsters in human flesh.
But the monsters are in your back yard
Baying for blood.
Don’t
feed
them.
You will be told
That if you love your family
You will abandon it
And submit yourself to the state.
Give up your mind, body, and soul
To be consumed.
Don’t feed them.
You will be called weak
You will be called subversive
You will be stamped
Kicked
Drowned
Thrown into jail
Dumped in the gutter.
Still,
don’t feed them.
They will scream about the chaos
Unleashed in the world
They will plead for your aid
They will put weeping women before you
They will show you the bodies of children
They will appeal to your humanity.
But if you join them
You become the monster.
You will rape the women
You will bomb the children
You will force them all into the machines.
Don’t feed them.
They offer you money
Insurance for your families
Early retirement.
Ask your wife how she feels
When you go abroad.
She may smile then, proud and supportive,
But when she gets the letter,
Insurance will be a cold comfort
A reminder
That her loved one was eaten alive.
Don’t feed them.
The politicians get fatter.
The generals get fatter.
Our fearless leaders
Have little to lose.
What is noble
About sacrificing yourself for these people?
Are they so wise, so just?
They have enough.
Don’t feed them.

Written by Sarah, of Fresh Hell.

Eating Chocolates And Watching Wars

Let us join the movement, Against The Next War, and have your say. Please reblog or write your own story, and join Paul Sunstone, in the campaign for Peace. << click here. I’m re-posting today, and attaching this important song “Spirit Bird”, by Xavier Rudd, and his lyrics are a pure statement from the heart, please read along with the music, and cry with me, for our spirits and our land.

“Leaving us

Stunned

Hollow ashamed”

My poem:

Eating Chocolates And Watching Wars

Hungrily I’m eating a liquor chocolate

A selfish heavenly delight

Arousing my old minds senses

I wonder

What she would be thinking

Looking down from the stars

Through her sensitive olive eyes

Her everlasting smile

Her gracious courage

Her generous heart

Her forgiving soul

Her love for me and you

I wonder

What she would be thinking

Seeing these futile bloody wars

Through her compassionate olive eyes

The dead and maimed

The millions of shuffling homeless

The distraught broken families

The crying children locked in sheds

The desperate refugees with no beds

I wonder

What she would be thinking

While she preciously holds the last white dove

Observing these senseless wars

That never never end

Eating Chocolates And Watching Wars

Let us join the movement, Against The Next War, and have your say. Please reblog or write your own story, and join Paul Sunstone, in the campaign for Peace. << click here. I’m reposting today, with this song “Spirit Bird”, by Xavier Rudd, and his lyrics are a pure statement from the heart, please read along with music, and cry with me, for our spirits and our land.

“Leaving us

Stunned

Hollow ashamed”

Hungrily I’m eating a liquor chocolate

A selfish heavenly delight

Arousing my old minds senses

I wonder

What she would be thinking

Looking down from the stars

Through her sensitive olive eyes

Her everlasting smile

Her gracious courage

Her generous heart

Her forgiving soul

Her love for me and you

I wonder

What she would be thinking

Seeing these futile bloody wars

Through her compassionate olive eyes

The dead and maimed

The millions of shuffling homeless

The distraught broken families

The crying children locked in sheds

The desperate refugees with no beds

I wonder

What she would be thinking

While she preciously holds the last white dove

Observing these senseless wars

That never never end

Have A Say, Against The Next War

Let us join the movement, Against The Next War, and have a say. Please reblog or write your own story, and join Paul Sunstone, in the campaign for Peace.

A Mushroom Anthem

Why is there always a dark side,

When the moon shines so bright.

Who’s taking us on this blindfold ride,

While our reasoning is out of sight.

Why is there always a silver lining,

When the clouds are hovering so low.

Who’s making the lower world glowing,

While our malignant demons grow and grow.

Why do we call them magic mushrooms,

When all they bring is gloom and doom.

Who’s controlling this aging Mother,

While our pleading hands are hustled undercover.

Let There Be Peace In Our Time.