The cost of peace

What’s the formula for peace 

within the blood

what’s the note of music

that brings peace into the ears

what’s the touch of skin

that gives peace to the body

what’s the balance of blue and green

that draws peace into the eyes

what’s the cost for peace

to find a home within the heart


With the death of my brother

a million years ago

I have no one I can hug

we were bears 

crushing anything within our grip

now my dear wife is so delicate

I barely touch her

and we call it a hug – ha!

Weeping ghosts

I danced in the fading halls

of weeping ghosts

their music filled the night

with empty songs

I turned and turned

looking for the entrance

of my fears

which world am I falling through

I cried out in a whisper

to my hands

and kept on flying

into the distance with my eyes

An old saying

Photo by Dan Fraser

There is an old saying

that love will find a way

I’m afraid

sometimes it doesn’t

The pineapple poet

A pineapple poet was very shy

Who would know or ask him why

It was the season to stay inside

There was no one in whom he could confide

His favourite peach had gone to sleep

Her fairy lips let out no peep

The other apples in their beds

Had also changed to angel heads

Tomorrow morning will be the same,

We’ll play our Saturday pancake game

With lots of helpers running about

No, “let me do it!”, they will shout.

Can a father write some lines

To drive away the sniffles and whines

To make this poem seem worthwhile

It has to make the reader smile

I’ve been looking at some of my old poems. I wrote this one in 1982, when my three kids were 3, 6 and 8.