Believe

I want some things to happen.
I want things to turn out fine
so I look up to the stars.
The one on the far right is mine.

The stars are on display and
piled up one million stories high.
I wish upon my chosen star.
I wish everything will be alright.

Wishing upon a star
in movies may come true.
In real life things are not so simple.
It all depends on you.
So depend upon yourself
and hope for the best.
Worrying doesn’t help.
Fate will take care of the rest.

Believe things will work out
as things tend to do.
Believe in yourself.
Believe good things will happen to you.
You can fulfill your dreams,
use your strength to pull you through.
Just wait and see.
The future is up to you

Think like a Singer

I can’t help but think like a singer
I absorb all the advice and all the know how
of how to sing and now
this is coming through in how I live.
Is it weird that when talking house decorating
with my friend I think of discords and crunchy notes?
Notes running side by side and not blending.
She was discussing wallpaper and curtains clashing.
I was thinking of notes coming together and crashing.

At work when I was creating a pictorial diagram
of our Past Student’s pavers in the yard.
Bricks, blank, unpurchased, unnamed
it was not so very hard
to think of the importance of space between notes.
Notes spread out and distanced from each other
by rests, time to catch a breath, unnoted notes.

And bowling always makes me think of singing.
Aim for the note, then sing,
Aim for the goal, then let the ball knock down all the pins.
Sing straight on the note, don’t smear.
Keep your arm straight or the ball will disappear
down the gutter.

I wonder if it matters.
I wonder if it is ok,
if I can get through life
thinking like a singer.
Can’t really be helped.
I am one.
And I love it.

Note to self – don’t look at peas on a plate or birds on the wire too long.

Those Kids Should Go

Someone said,
who should know better
but does not know,
‘those children should take
their things and go.
They should not be in the
same classroom where
the other children learn.
They don’t know how to take turns.
They should not be allowed,
they should not be.
They are not the same as you and me’.
To this someone,
who should know better,
don’t you know that is what
those children want too?
They want to be the same
as the other children who
get along so well.
For those children
school is hell.
Teachers don’t help.
They don’t know what to do.
It is too late for my girl who
is one of those children.
Those children who don’t fit in.
To that someone with her
thoughtless remarks.
Just imagine how you would feel
if a loved one of yours
was segregated in a class.
Just because they thought different.
They don’t know how to fit in.
Teachers need to learn to help them.
They need support, they need confidence
instead of segregation in another class.

Small

Many of my poems I like.
But there are some I don’t.
I don’t know what they will
be like until they show their faces.
Sometimes I think I try too hard.
Strain too hard to get it right.
And then when it surfaces on the page
and the words hit the light
I see how coarse those words are,
not what I wanted at all.
Then I think
I am not good enough to be a poet.
And I feel very small.

A spider

In the corner.
She lurks.
She hides.
She shirks.
She scuttles.
She spins long, long,
tendrils of silken thread.
Ample amounts of yarn
to catch any unsuspecting.
flies who hover too close

Spiky feet take turns to
test air currents.
Suddenly she descends
along an invisible line.
Some people are scared.
I am not
I escort the spider outside because
I spied her.

Clouds

Clouds. they are blown into cotton ball streamers by wild winds. when they get black and heavy rain pours, lightning strikes and thunder rolls. I love the fluffy cumulus clouds. Looking up at the sky i see such funny things. A saucepan, a man with a massive nose, a trumpet. But today I was told these clouds hold computer data. They are very useful. I have seen both sides now. Clouds.

At the Bus Stop

At the bus stop while
waiting for the bus
a lady smiled at me and asked
aren’t you a musician?
I think I met you once before.
Haven’t you sung at Carnegie Hall?
Haven’t you been to London and Rome
singing at amazing places and then returning home?

I answered ‘I am only me’.
I have just been very lucky.
I was at the right place at the right time.
Someone else deserves all the credit.
He put all the work and the effort into it.
He helped write the music with two other people.
and went across to Europe to make
sure we could do it.

The lady said ‘I remember you.
I was so impressed with how you spoke.
We were waiting for a bus in Berwick,
you, myself and two other ladies.
You were full of enthusiasm for your music.
But I did not get your name and then you were gone.

I answered ‘if you love singing, ‘
come and join us.
Come sing with me and my friends.