TO THE FERRY MAN:
Lore of many
And olden a day
In the misty rivers of hades
...
Life at Sea
Calm and still be the waters I sail on
But beneath lies a rumbling sea.
...
Let's stop and listen
To the voices that lies within:
Our reason
That gives us life - our living
...
We drowned in Dunbar creek
The first voices
We drowned the segregation god
...
UNMARKED GRAVE:
The grave on 20 Chesterfield avenue
One of many graves
...
Speechless and blank in thought
again and again, the noose glance at me below,
while the unsteady chair is like the last restraint beckoning.
A note; yet to be composed.
...
Thud! , sends a nerve racking sound
the last to be made by you
as you begin your thousand years of silence
send forth by the words of the priest.
...
Standing on the summit and letting it drift,
the last of my memories carried away by the wings of my soul.
And so it floats, weightless and directionless,
yet it floats
...
On life's ledge
and about to take a dive
on rocks below
cracking the skull like being hit with a sledge hammer
...
Alas! I stand here as the judge
Fear not, all ye innocents, don’t be bugged
For my words shall strike – bang! , bang!
It shall be sharper that the vampires fang.
...
On the road this morning
I saw two lambs lying side by side
they were fast asleep
or rather,
...
Like a cold metal against my lips
a shiver of excitement runs me through,
not unto folly as other excitments thus;
nay,
...
The Old Tree
THE OLD TREE:
The old rugged tree
With thorny green leaves
And many a branches
Posed no threat to Robert Freid
For as a child
He grew up seeing the tree
A play thing
Of play things
A hide and seek tree
Where he stood with love
Young love: Agatha Martins
For Freid and Agatha
Loved each other to ageing
Being a he and a she
On hymen's night of love
For the tree
Was the centre of love's home
A centre standing alone
Built around this tree
Was love and children
They grew old
Older still did it
They had children
Barren was it
And so the tree grew sick
For never had it been a husband
Never a wife
Never shared love
Only seen it
And so the sick tree was
Brown and pale,
Branches fallen
For after being love's magnet
It was left on its own.
And so, dying standing
It placed a curse on Agatha Freid
Who shortly after died on a bed.
And so Robert Freid
Running to a dead tree
A memory of love's first kiss
Seeing memory's lane barren and dead
He cried the more
For his tree of love
Was dead as Agatha Freid
And leaning against the tree
He breathed love's last
For the old rugged tree
With thorny brown leaves
And many a fallen branches
Posed a threat to Robert Freid.