Feature Image : Created by Copilot and me — a wattlebird rising above a soft, cloud‑washed bridge in the sky. I sent my two photos (attached below) to my Copilot app and asked for an image of a wattlebird flying above a bridge in the sky. This is the result: a golden, dreamlike lift.
Oh, to safely fly above that peaceful bridge in the sky. Like a worldwide dream — a bowtie’s golden ribbon, bandaging the stratosphere together, from here to Shanghai.
A quiet, drifting companion for the poem’s soft ascent.
Sometimes a single flight can carry more meaning than the landscape beneath it. This morning’s mudlark — lifting from foreign sands, gliding toward familiar green, then swept off course by an unexpected breeze — became the quiet messenger behind this piece. Its journey echoed the fragile paths we all take toward understanding, toward apology, toward peace. What followed was a poem shaped by wings, weather, and the distant hum of icy choirs.
Winging Toward Peace
Swooping out past the sands of foreign ground Then flying toward the green, bushy trees of that once-fabled promised land — only to be diverted by a bold eastern breeze that buckled my wings and trembling knees and sent me falling into the Arctic freeze, where icy choirs continue the cheers still singing in the hush of sub‑zero seas
There, huddling inside an iceberg’s solitary marque, all the compassionate delegates from overseas gathered to hear pleas for apologies and guarantees from Greenland’s patient, peaceful trustees.
From foreign sands to frozen seas, the journey ends where quiet voices still know the weight of peace. And so, in Greenland’s calm, the final note on harmonious independence lingers.
This poem began as a poetic comment I shared with Beth, in response to her moving article about a group of monks who set out from the Huong Dao Temple in Fort Worth, Texas. Their 2,300-mile pilgrimage to Washington, D.C. will span roughly 120 days and carry them through ten states — a quiet, powerful gesture of peace. I’m grateful to Beth for allowing me to reproduce the photos from her post here on my poetry site. Beth >> walking into the new year with peace. | I didn’t have my glasses on….
“Walk For Peace”
Silently, like daylight moves across a sundial, The monks walk for peace in a humble style.
Within myself, I wistfully smile, And hope that all the rank and file Will also freely walk every single mile. And add to the world’s peaceful stockpile.
Lisa O’Neill, If I Was A Painter, Lyrics
[Verse 1] If I was a painter with colours no end I’d paint the whole thing simply again Where everything runs into everything Where every colour is born without sin
[Verse 2] Red be a roaring river in my veins Green be the beat of the heart in the trees Blue be the pull of the moon on the tide Let brown be the base of some true love’s eyes
[Bridge] Give us a chance at an earthly lifе Then pull it from under us when wе arrive Sending us orderly – what choice had I? Born under the only sky
[Pre-Chorus] Vast, vast, vast Silver, gold and brass The moon′s milk, the sun’s silk All move among the stars
[Chorus] I found out when I listened Love is received from love Up in the steely night Stars span the Galway shawl I was scared of the underground in London At the speed of my generation Are the old people getting forgotten In this fuss of the world we spin?
[Verse 1] If I was a painter with colours no end I’d paint the whole thing simply again Where everything runs into everything Where every colour is born without sin
From behind the trees, And out of the grasses, We cannot stop the fire -That burning desire- From soaring higher, Higher than the entire Starry, starry choir.
So, best we inquire To the Almighty Supplier: “Will there be a ceasefire at the top of your golden spire?”
Today’s Throwback Friday poem was written in March 2022, and appears in my third book, “Until Eyes Hear Sound”, Chapter 1, Little Creatures and Birds, page 6
Innocent Millipedes
Please Mr Shootin’ Putin Do not roll your tanks of destruction Over the innocent Mr & Mrs Millipede Millipedes were the earliest animals to breathe air And make the move from water to land They date back 428 million years Now people of the world cannot hold back their tears
Did you know Mr Shootin’ Putin That Millipedes are fairly timid critters Docile decomposers that live in the leaf litter Of forests all over the world! They aren’t flashy or fast And they follow the motto “Slow and steady wins the race” Millipedes are peaceful They don’t bite They can’t sting And they don’t have pincers to fight back
Please Mr Shootin’ Putin Do not roll your tanks of destruction Over the innocence of creation
Today’s philosophical Throwback Friday poem was written in April 2022 and is published in my book “Until Eyes Hear Sound”
Day One
Before Day One
I wished upon a star That the milk-bar Was not too far away My life’s bread was crumbling My weathered hands were fumbling Witnessing the Last Supper was humbling
Day One
There, beyond the darkness Out in the universe From a million light-years away Under an alien’s microscopic frame We would all look the same
After Day One
I wished for the dust to settle Then waited for rusted gunmetal To mature into household kettles Whistling hallelujah to new sunflower petals
