a child of creation

i love to wake up in the middle of the night
when the drunks have gone home and turned off the light
the world and it's people are far, far away
not busy and noisy like during the day
there's a chill in the air and a silence around
that during the daytime can never be found
a child of creation, i enjoy being alone
with past and with present and future time zone
i can think of the people who matter to me
of what might still happen and what never be
for we're always creating the world where we live
by the things we imagine and the thoughts that we give



in my mind i can wander where others dare not
indulging my thoughts in a fair camelot
a place of white knights and princes and kings
in search of fair ladies to present with their rings
the rest of the people may live as they please
but past midnight i claim as my time of reprieve
to live as i wish in a world all my own
where magic holds sway and reality's flown
the dreams of my heart form the world where i live
and my lover desires all the love i can give


Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann

parrot pellets

tomorrow is parrot pellet day
i need to awake at an early hour
parcelforce waits for no man
seven minutes absence in 48 hours
seven minutes and they are come
and gone with unseemly speed
and the small smurf bird
ugly as a small vulture
with unfinished feathers
and raptor eyes needs weaning
fruit and veg and seed
are not enough for thoroughly
domesticated and ultimately
absolute vegetarians
pellets are required
and i must be there to collect
i need to sleep tonight
but the muse is once more
abroad and wily demands
my full and conscious attention
i say the muse because she, my muse
ignores me now in precious ways
were i sheit on her shoe
i would receive more attention
than this poor poet in pain
no matter even in her ignoring
i find my inspiration
for she it was who taught me
tales of my genius with words
she rubbed like warm oil
slick and soft against my skin
until i believed not only in my craft
but in her everlasting love
which i believe in still
i have no god but my belief in us
in our destiny together
but small blue parrots busy weaning
require my presence to collect
parrot pellet parcels
in the morning

All materials Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann

saying goodbye

saying goodbye
to people and places
bidding farewell
to beloved faces
love like an anchor
a weight in the chest
a beginning an end
a time which was blessed
the future is waiting
each day a question
of how to survive
without love's obsession
time now a punisher
some day a healer
just play the cards
which are dealt by the dealer
the sweetness of love
the peace of together
life is all chaos
and nothing forever
remember our love
the extent of our caring
the fun and the laughter
the bliss of our sharing

Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann

insanity

insanity a precocious loop
a swashbuckling mind traveler
favouring only the some
neglecting the others
their minds boot sucking
in the boring morass
of the legally sane
why favour some with the ability
to hear the voice of god
to be with surety
an erstwhile hero
are the mad tormented
sad and lonely souls
existing in their false reality
or is insanity the gift
allowing access to a world
mind designed
a place of resurrection
from the inanity of a world
lost in the imaginings of the normal

All materials Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann

impartial observance

impartial observance of every day actions
is rarely achieved, there are constant infractions
we know what we know, we believe what is true
so often another has a whole different view
their truth is not ours, they do not understand
the acceptable future for which we have planned
our truth is their lie, our goodness unseen
they suspect us of plotting, a dark monstrous scheme
so, history sways from the left to the right
a viewpoint induced by the presence of might
who so holds the power is the owner of truth
effecting the press and impacting the youth
prejudice, politics, talk of the day
awash with the truth or the lies of the way
illegal immigrants, marriage for gays
should iraq be invaded, does war deserve praise
depends so entirely on our point of view
some agree, some would challenge, some do not have a clue

All materials Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann

forgotten

his grey hair wiry, unbrushed, forgotten
he stood gazing seawards, lost in thought
the high tailed wind,tugging at his shirtsleeves,
defining his spare frame, the wasted muscles
tall he was still, stooped now, with the burden of age
what drew his gaze and engaged his thoughts
the white caps riding the green, grey sea
their coming and going random, at the will of the wind
the small yacht sailing, black sails filled with motion
the sea birds, wrestling with the wind
none of these did he see, the present was absent from him
his mind journeyed in the past, in happier times
his body once more young and strong
his thoughts, ordered and coherent, his memory intact
his beloved wife, vibrant by his side
her smiling face turned towards him
her clear eyes spilling adoration, her enjoyment palpable
how she loved the sea, the sand, the rushing wind
he turned to take her hand, to grasp her to him
he found only the echo of yesterday's memory
the present embraced him with a sad sigh
there was probably somewhere he should be
something he should have done
his mind so clear in past memories
wandered lost in the mists of the present
he found himself alone in a world grown strange
he longed to cry, to howl out his pain
for the loss of his woman, his life mate
she, the familiar, the remembered, now absent
torn from his side by the twin enemies of age and illness
he survived, half of the whole they once were
he wiped the wind tears from his face and turned for home
to the warm emptiness of his present, to his new companion
the television, satellite, one hundred channels
of mind numbing entertainment, absolving him from thought
encouraging him to sleep, to dream of yesterday
as he sat slouched, slack jawed and unconfused

All materials Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann

the way of words

words are my tools
words are my pleasure
words are for using
enjoying at leisure
words can make mischief
and words can make magic
words describe life and death
cheerful and tragic
words can weave tales
about loving and leaving
explaining emotions of
great joy and grieving
words can be written
or spoken out loud
whispered in love
or roared out in a crowd
words are a way
of exposing my mind
the thoughts that i think
and the questions i find
my days are kept busy
with words in my head
and thoughts so inspired
by the words i have read
i listen to music
hear words in my brain
my words are inspired
by sun and by rain
words cut and they heal
like a good surgeons knife
they offer excitement
and knowledge of life
remember their power
whenever you speak
think of the kindness
or damage you wreak
for words are just words
until they are hurled
with love or with venom
out into the world


Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann