vince gullaci Poems

No dream left to spark
at sixty-eight
just the struggle
with mortality's
...

Imagine
Ned Kelly
on Phar Lap
charging up
...

Thank God
I slept through,
the darkness
would have claimed me,
...

In the middle
of a field
of beautiful white bush roses
a two metre tall
...

There's no roar
no crowd
just silence
as the coffin
...

My little mate
the blackbird
would sense I am no more
and mourn me with a whistle
...

In airtight bunkers
where you don't see
sparrows or flies
we live our final years
...

If the consequences
weren't so dire
it'd be funny
how I carry my baggage
...