Reginald Reid

LIFE PERSPECTIVE

I've heard teachers and orators
Say things they think profound.
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NEW YEAR'S EVE

Midnight has passed a new year has begun,
And in this darkened arbour now we wait, no moon no sun,
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NEXT SPRING

'Tis spring as all the world revives
and all around shouts I'm alive.
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SOUL TALK

I can talk to a bird, a dog or a cat
Nobody thinks very much about that.
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SUMMER DAZE

Alone, half dazed by relentless summer heat.
Staggering, blistered sore hot feet.
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THE RANDOMNESS OF LIFE

If the random intersect of lifelines had occurred another day,
Or the place of my conception been in a place so far away,
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THE SILENCE OF SOLITUDE

In the silence of my solitude my mind is free to dream,
To contemplate the things that were, that are, and those that might have been.
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THE SPEED OF LIFE

Astronomers talk of the speed of light.
They never mention the speed of night,
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THIS ANCIENT GARDEN

Come see the glory of Australia, a great and modern land,
One rich in old world history with a future no man planned.
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TIMES

I have seen the seasons come and go,
Watched the waters ebb and flow,
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WHEN I'M GONE

Lay me down to die up on the hills amongst the clouds.
Let the mist caress my skin unhindered by sad shrouds.
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MEMORIES
How can my mind ever stem the flow of memories?
Those memories, which now like a torrent surge so powerfully reviving past times denied, ignored,
awoken by some trivial or dramatic event that heralds the arrival of some past hidden treasure, or doom.
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Have you been there in the early morning
when the sun has been unseen the longest time,
when the air is coldest and you must leave your bed
while birds are waking and calling?
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Coxs River

I can hear the water running over rocks and logs and spills
Assembling a torrent that has trickled from the hills
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A NEW TREE FOR EVERY DAY

Beneath the trees upon the ground
Dead branches leaves and twigs abound
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Always a song

Here in my body beats the rhythm of life.
Known before I was born as the signal of good
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AUTUMN MORNING
Serene clouds stir in the valley's misty dawn
bathed in curling fog and breeze
while silently from slumbering valleys
...

DESIRE


In secret I seek you constantly
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City Views

Mirrored glass canyons windswept in the shadows
Smokers skulking in doorways their dependence so hollow
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BIRDS

A rounded young fellow known as Franklin the finch
Who measured his stature in terms of an inch
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