*fusion | poetry

Life

Life is love, loss and luck,
It is like the delicate leaves of deciduous trees in autumn,
Free from the grasp of
Evil hands.

Night-time

As I look outside the window,
I see the night sky and the bright stars,
The peacefulness and tranquillity,
Became instilled in my mind.

The stars twinkling at a constant rate,
The evidence of cellular life out in the universe,
The light shining with brilliance,
From a natural form.

The animals out in the forests,
An essence of life,
Tooting, chirping, crawling around,
Doing their duties in the dark.

The bright moon,
Full after each month,
Shining down on the Earth,
Casting shadows.

I lie in my bed,
Looking at the sky and stars,
And listening to the night sounds,
Falling asleep thinking of night-time as such a peaceful place.

The Silence of Night

In the silence of the night,
The soft winds brush my face,
Sending shivers down my spine,
Like the feeling of Dark presence.

Black leaves from the trees,
Fall slowly like feathers from a dove,
On a path to a faraway land,
A land with mystery and tranquillity,
Where the rays of the moon do not reach and do not touch.

The gentle trickling of the water from the mountains, brushes my senses,
The soft beating of blood of last lost souls,
The distant 'pitter-patter' of water from the heavens,
And the silent buzzing of hollow bees,
Long decayed and only with their sting in time, left to torture.

The white dove flapping its long slender feathers,
Like a transparent butterfly,
Delicate, Peaceful, in the night,
Swiftly flying to its destination.

Its delicate feathers brushing the air,
As it moves over the dark and silent oceans,
With a wreck of debris lying on the cold sand,
From one hundred year old sails.

The rustle among the tall pine trees of a nearby forest,
As the dove settles down on a lonely tree,
Ageing, like the world,
Slowly, but peacefully in harmony with the tunes from the heavens.

The slender feathers took flight again,
But this time towards the sun,
The bright radiance of rays,
Of the last light to touch the green of the trees,
The brown of the soil,
And the last white flapping butterfly.

Late

One dark and gloomy day,
My teacher said "Hey!
Just tell me why you were late,
And don't make it a debate!"

I just stood right there,
Silence in the air,
My teacher said "Right!
I'll give you a detention,
And if you come late should I mention,
I'll fix you all-right!
By punishing you with all my might!"

More thoughts came pouring through my head,
When a big bully came up and said,
"I'm going to get you after school,
Because I think you're not so cool."

"I cannot come!" I told him,
But all he thought about was to break a limb,
And bolted down the corridor,
Almost crashing into a door.

So after school we exchanged blows,
I thought he would win but who knows?
One punch to the head and he came down,
Lying face-down on the ground.

So off I went to detention,
Feeling all the painful tension,
Yet again my teacher asked,
"Why did you come late again, may I ask?"
Looking back at my boxing glory,
I told her, "Let me tell you the story."

School

When I started to go to school,
I thought it was really cool,
To make new friends,
Tie up some loose ends,
And clear my status as a fool.

The school's principal was Mr. Maring,
He seemed very nice and caring,
And although he was bald,
He never was cold,
The only word to describe him was daring.

As the first bells sound,
Hearts begin to pound,
And the stampede of feet,
On the floor that was once neat,
Are the only noises to rise from the ground.

Mouths remain still,
As the students wait for their teacher, Mr. Gill,
He taught History and Maths,
And was well-known for trying 'Aths',
At a school where most students do nil.

At the end of the day,
The students' celebrate and say, "Hip, Hip, Hooray!",
The bustling of cars with tired parents,
Come to pick up their adolescents,
And drive them to their homes in the nearby bay.