I Think I Might Die In My Sleep Tonight

I think I might die in my sleep tonight,

I might close my eyes to never awake,

Today may be the last chance I have to kiss my wife,

Enjoy the last breath I’m to take.

I think I might die in my sleep tonight,

Never again to play games with my child,

Laughter will fade with the setting of time.

And the games will reside in the mind.

But what could this final day restore,

That all others have let astray,

When days of average are no more,

What hopes for a final day?

If I think I might die in my sleep tonight

then to live this day as I might.

 


Published in Melaleuca, April 2010

Unspoken Love

It hangs in the air

between gazing eyes,

within a mother when she rubs

for her unborn child.

 

You can see it in photos

of an anniversary,

in the fingered indentations

of a well worn rosary.

 

It spills from flowers that are

placed to mark a grave,

echoes in prayers,

requests to be saved.

 

It flows within the tears

of those left to grieve,

waiting for a final kiss

to get some relief.

 

It’s left within the smiles

when thoughts are brought to mind,

a sweet embrace that lingers

after earth bound time.

 

It’s when I think of my wife and daughters

while I’m aching through the day,

it’s in the ride I take back home

and when I forget to say

 

that love is everywhere

untouched and unbroken,

love is captured in these words,

no longer left unspoken.

 


Published in Miscellaneous Voices #1: Australian Blog Writing (Miscellaneous Press, April 2010)

Published in The Frequency of God, Close-Up Books, December 2017

Anti-Social Network

The new

Oxford-American

dictionary

has announced

its word

of the year is

‘unfriend’.

‘Love’ has long been forgotten,

‘Touch’ is now irrelevant,

‘Smile’, ‘Hope’, ‘Peace’, ‘Praise’,

rendered to dusty print books

locked in open shelves

for all and none to see.

LMAO txt speak has won.

I am justified in my existence,

I facebook, therefore I am,

twitter ergo sum.

We have created our own Big Brother,

submitted to the cookie monster,

our lives are now just in-app purchases,

we’ve split our own personalities,

online identities.

Post.

 


A version of this poem was first published in Miscellaneous Voices #1: Australian Blog Writing (Miscellaneous Press, April 2010)

This version published in The Frequency of God, Close-Up Books, December 2017