poem – Page 17 – June Paisa Perkins

Basket of Light

In the late afternoons baskets of light weave themselves into the branches.

They catch the sun and make it into petals and stars dancing through circles.

I love to watch for these baskets of light. Click them into my camera and hold them in an image.

If only children could climb into them away from the world’s fights.

They could beam their future, their dreams, their innocent light into the hearts of all them that are too attached to land and ideals that separate and antagonise.

Oh for the baskets of light that give the human spirit might. If only they could capture hate and ignorance and burn them away.

The sky cannot be owned. The sun cannot be captured. The light shines on all, through the baskets of light.

(c) June Perkins, words and image.

Grey and White

I don’t mind that people dye their hair, but why did someone mind that I didn’t dye mine. At the moment I have chosen to not worry about the grey starlight in my hair…

Ripple Poetry

Grey and white streaks
begin to lace themselves through my hair

I embrace
the signs of wisdom
chasing through me there,

And all around me others dye
and tease their hair to conceal their age
but that is their affair.

I don’t mind that they want to do this
and hold onto their esteem
but why does one say to me
‘You should dye your hair
you look so ancient and so old’

I explain to her
when I was younger
I looked younger than my age
and am happy to embrace
the white and grey that now
dance through my life.

She cannot take a hint
and simply doesn’t understand
I don’t need a bottled colour
to conceal the process I’m now in
and now she wants to know the colour of my youth.

Why do so many worship forever staying young?

I am happy to see silver starlight

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Handle with Care

the morning news unsettles
and reminds
for many there is no luxury
to look for daily balance

only the beginning of an end

lives blasted out of the sky
children bombed on the beach
apocalyptic movies due
at the cinema soon

and on the way to when healing arrives
the places where there is the

beginning of a beginning

every moment
is now handle with care

the places where tear drops
bomb the hope just out of reach

longing for the time
visions of one world
might be in the real world soon

the temporary bandages we put on things
attempted treaties delicately achieved
are never enough

when will we make way for the time
when unity might
beam its sunlight
through leaves of green
to blind the apocalypse of now?

(c) June Perkins

The World is All Gates

The world is all gates, all opportunities, strings of tension waiting to be struck.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

lined with red blooms announcing possibility
the road beyond calls out its journeys
to gardens of elsewhere

lined with mist dissolving
found light

cascading into tension on
the fields of search

muddling with its metaphor
it’s the surname
of a wealthy man named Bill
who gives for others journeys
to opportunities of
elsewhere

it opens for returning soldier
and new refugee

riddling with its structure
questioning its purpose
beyond open and shut

it is frozen in the
beauty of welcome

(c) June Perkins

No barriers

Love recognizes no barriers.

It jumps hurdles, leaps fences,

penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.

Maya Angelou

The day wall came tumbling down in Germany
I was answering a university exam question about how it might never come down
hope was confirmed the exam turned upside down.

I hope that day comes again and
many more walls that need to be shaken
receive the sledge hammer of
human love global love so walls of
war, poverty, prejudice are overturned.

By June Perkins