Tag Archives: dreams

Monday Poem- “Jungle Man”

Jungle Man

In the jungle
One day I met a man
Who had obviously been there more than I
He informed me
That looks are deceiving
That he had woken up that morning for a walk
So I asked him
How he came to walk here
He took a wrong turn in the desert where he slept

My jungle friend
How I would love to help
But I too am stranded in this twisted wild place
My jungle friend
He helped me see myself
As I looked into his empty twisted wild face

There is no substitute for time alone in silence
No substitute for the rivers
Flowing with rhythm (controlled but free)
There is no substitute for the peace of violence
No substitute for this refining time with me

In the city
One day I met a man
Who looked rather like the man I met before
I informed him
Of my jungle dreaming
And of the ugly twisted face that I’d just saw
He asked me for a light
And he asked me for a fight
So I said that I don’t smoke
and that I’m not the fighting sort of bloke
While he looked at me with beady eyes
With greedy eyes
And needy cries
So he looked at me with beady eyes
And then he saw himself

A broken man
Unavailable for more
Incapable of war
But unstable like before
Not like the jungle man I saw
Not like the me I am before the dawn

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Monday Poem- “Farm Boy”

Farm boy

From his earliest daze
All he knew was the farm,
With his freckly nose
And suntanned arms,
He’d get up everyday
At the crack of dawn
So he could milk cows
And harvest the corn.
He could fix all the fences
And mend all the gates
And could handle the tractor
At the age of just eight.
He’d herd the sheep before lunchtime,
The lambs and the ewes,
Which paddock they went to
He got to choose.
However, the most important decision
Was not his to make
Because his father had bills
And the farm was at stake.
He wanted to sing though
(A secret he kept)
But saved performing for night time
In bed when he slept.
Every now and then though,
He’d just burst into verse,
When no one was looking
He’d get to rehearse.
He’d sing with the cattle, the horses and hens,
He’d sing when he fell into
The piggery pen.
As he sang before no one
While working outdoors,
All of Heaven responded
With excited applause.
The goats sounded better
To an untrained ear,
But when he sang from the heart
The angels revered:
A man with a calling
And a passion to sing,
As he worshipped His God
They called the farm boy
a king.