Between the Old and the New
You will see the poem's title with a number in brackets next to it. I have written a poem at a certain age, indicated in the brackets, and I have rewritten a more modern version of that poem after it, also with the age indicated in brackets at the end of the title.
An Acrostic Poem
Dreamtime
(10)
Down in the valley
Rivers run silently through
Each tree
Aborigines live here
Making music
The Gods watch over them down
In the valley
Music wafts through the trees
Echoing loudly
Death comes far too
slowly
Richard is tired now
Even sleep is plagued by nightmares of
Apparitions made real by
My imagination
The blackness closes in and
I can feel the wind around
My body pick up its
Endless ebb and flow
A Conversational Poem
Little
Boy, Little Boy (14)
Little Boy, Little Boy, where have you been?
I’ve been in the past when the world was green
Little Boy, Little Boy what were you doing?
My mind was cooking, my mind was stewing
Little Boy, Little Boy, what is the time?
A time for a goddess, time for the sublime
A time for the living, a time for the dead
A time for a boy’s childhood to be shed
A time to plant flowers, a time to plant seeds
But what shall grow there? Naught but weeds
Fly little phoenix, fly over the stone
Watch your children come into their own
Follow the wind and follow the rain
And when lightning strikes you, don’t feel the pain
Little Boy, Little Boy, why are you crying?
Father death is coming and the world is dying
Come now, Little Boy, don’t be so silly child
I’m not – just open the door and let me go back to the wild
Little
Boy, Little Boy (16)
