Poems

'I am Greenwich... the ancient beloved of clocks. I reside in the south-east of a coastal city, embraced by an old homeland full of secrets and odes. They call me the cradle and home of time, for within my heart, seconds are born and find their meaning. On one side of me, time is added; on the other, it is subtracted. Yet I, like a calm and silent witness upon my throne of stability, remain carefree. With just a simple line across my face, I divide the Earth into two clear, balanced halves, separating the Eastern and Western hemispheres. In the world's clock, my name is read with pride. I am the zero chime at the beginning of time, the guide for ships navigating seas and oceans. Many homelands ahead of us welcome the sun, while just as many behind us await the morning light. I have brought the sun into homes so they can trust the ticking of their clocks. I am the centre of moments, living within the depth of a pure greenery. I share a secret, sacred bond with the moon and the stars, so that humanity, wherever they may be, truly recognises the value of the seconds of their lives.. Dana Besarani...
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Tell Me
My faith, my strength, my conviction—
I cannot trade its depth for another.
My daily journey through life,
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Not voice but fracture
the noise inside me
a building cracking under invisible weight
and I am both the walls and the dust
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Peace be upon you,
I am among those souls
who do not breathe in noise,
but in silence.
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So did the ghoul hate its life,
In spite of having yet such so many,
Tracklessly did they serve his strife,
But returns not it'd ever have any.
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Down the lane not far from home
Across a field where we occasionally roam
There is a river that slowly wends
Along a pace until it bends
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A rainy day - Andrew W.K. Yip

A rainy day.
We kissed in pouring rain.
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'Go and catch a falling star.'
(John Donne)

St Barbara, a poor white gloved icy ingénue,
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'...in spring, the most delicate feathery yellow of plumes and plumes and plumes and trees and bushes of wattle, as if angels had flown right down out of the softest gold regions of heaven to settle here, in the Australian bush.'

— D. H. Lawrence, Kangaroo
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Infant tantrum all emotion, little insight does it possess
Pain's response vented in tears no control, patience even less
Young fruit is green, holds hard to the tree, sucking from mother's blood
As it grows it's ripeness shows, juicier than the bud
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Money like drug, too much makes you fly,
It lifts people up, then makes them cry.
The ones who use it wisely,
Get what they want precisely.
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In a game where hearts play,
True love is more than just a passing day.
It's not in looks or your beauty I see,
But in the bond that formed naturally.
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