These four couplets unfold like stepping stones — small pauses across the quiet waters of loss. Each one holds a moment of recognition, a shift in understanding, a breath before the next step. Paired with Leonard Cohen’s “Teachers,” the poem traces the lessons we never received, and the ones we learn only by walking toward them
Life’s Missing Teacher
I never found a teacher, who taught me how to grieve.
The unforeseen creature was difficult to perceive.
After unplugging her extension cord, time was always near.
While wandering toward the edge of life’s weathered pier.
Today’s Throwback poem was written before I started my website and is from June 2012, not long after Carole passed away (14 years ago, May 3rd). For reasons I can’t quite explain, this nostalgic piece never found its way into any of my three books. Maybe this unheralded poem will finally nudge me toward completing my fourth.
Where’s That Dream
I have seen the universe through to the stars beyond There is a deep darkness; she is gone. She is gone I saw her smile crack from the pain There was a sorrow, she caught it tomorrow
I have seen the moon through the burning sun Where is that planet she is walking on? I saw her eyes crying tears of sand Where is that beach she is lying on?
I have seen the ocean through the broken coral Where is that ship she is sailing on? I saw her body serene and frail Where are the ashes she is covered in?
I have seen the earth open, swallowing the multitude whole Where is that chasm she is falling through? I saw her gentle soul disappear out of sight Where is that secret haven she is flying to?
I have seen the land go through violent storms Where are the winds of time she is spread upon? I saw her heart, her love, for all of you and me Where is that dream she has left us to find?
As the sky deepened to red, the day’s meaning settled softly around us.
Over at Weekly Prompts, it’s the weekend of the month, which means it’s time for the One-Day Prompt. Here in Australia, it’s that One Day of the year when we commemorate ANZAC Day. To visit the Weekly Prompts site, please click on >> Here
Lest We Forget (a Haiku)
Twilight’s blood red sky Quietly reminded us About ANZAC Day
As the evening sky burned low, it carried me back to a younger road — one lit with promise, before time dimmed the colours I thought would last.
Today, the Weekend Challenge on Weekly Prompts is the word “Interlude.” To visit their fabulous site, please click >> Here
Along This Road
Once upon a time — when I was young, and life glowed, I came along this road where twilight’s crimson light meets the edge of night.
Beyond once upon a time, I saw her candle of joy turn white, and her happy fire fell out of sight. Thereafter, her merciless plight became an ongoing, cruel fight.
A special poem I wrote, after I’d taken my Lady to the hospital for the last time, on the day of her 65th birthday, fourteen years ago.
Hello Carole, time goes by, and my heart has not moved …
Under The Snow
We emanate to a birthday. We deflate to a final day. Birthdays, they all come, they all go. Birthdays, in the sunshine, under the snow. Birthdays, slow to mature, quickly an eon. Birthdays, before we are born, after we are gone. Birthdays, hanging on by a breath. Birthdays, nailed to a cross ’til death. What does it all mean to be alive and cry? What does it all mean to live and to die?
On this Good Friday morning, a lone bird drifts beneath the sun — a small, steady shape moving through a world that still carries its wounds. Watching it, I felt the familiar pull of memory, the long years of care, love, and quiet endurance that shaped my life. This Tanka rose from that moment, from that tear in the sky, and the music below holds the same fragile ache — a home built from devotion, loss, and the tenderness that remains.
Not Good, But I’m Ok(a Tanka)
I fly beneath you On this Good Friday morning, And I spy a tear In the corner of your eye — Is our World a sinful stye?
Featured Image Above: is of my silver teaspoon with the initials “MS” (Multiple Sclerosis) embossed on the handle button.
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,“Between, Inside, and Beyond,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below. >> Between, Inside, and Beyond – Coffee House Writers
This is not about a mystical sunset, Nor the birds’ spiritual silhouettes.
I am searching for her golden bracelet – Or perhaps, I should be climbing her marble minaret, Where time is trapped, And then I could collapse Into her celestial bassinet.
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 