Smell of BBQ onions drift through the air.
A deck, a pretzel, a fold up chair.
Hops mist drifts off the first cracked beer.
Slides past willing lips, with no fear.
Late sunscreen hits a sunburnt face.
Someone sets a ridiculous drinking pace.
Giggles turn in laughs, laughs turn into good times.
Remembrance headache arrives just in time for the sunrise.
Deon Heemskerk 30-9-2011
Lost In a misty forest.
Trying to live a life so modest.
Looking for a path to the future.
To strive for money is torture.
Working to achieve happiness.
Wallets full of emptiness.
Climbing towards the mountain peak.
Others wallow in dept so deep.
They wear brave faces, with their cocktail chases.
Spending the money they need to keep.
Through the forest mist our future is just out of sight.
In a green laden clearing, the sun so warm and bright.
Deon Heemskerk 29-9-2011
The warmer weather brough a black snake to our back door and it also made me curious to see how our favorite spot on the river was going..
Clear flowing water runs effortlessly over the large granite stone.
Rocks form shapes that resemble prehistoric bone.
The water has no constant shape, morphing, splitting apart and joining again.
On it chugs through the country side like a reliable old train.
A slight breeze hums through the sheoaks over head.
Zigzag patterned sand, shows were the red-belly has fled.
Insects bounce off the surface, trout eating like kings.
The gem of the new england, the nucleus to all living things.
Deon Heemskerk 19-9-11
Escape to the mountains, forget the slime.
Leave the plains with their blue-green algae effected minds.
Let them sell out to the Viagra popping salesman with his Larry Emdur smile.
Sucking down fast food grease balls that stimulate extra bile.
Constantly complaining about money as they dive head first into deep debt.
Looking over their neighbours fences, whispering about promises not kept.
Puppet show councilors, do merry little dances for creepy dark developers.
Surrounding themselves with all the proper things and chamber like characters.
The false smiling collar up friday boys strut around.
On the walking hood wearers they look down.
What commands least respect?
A habit to support or how many you have stabbed in the neck?
A storm is brewing..
Deon Heemskerk 16-9-11
Early morning sets the full moon.
First flower buds show that spring will be here soon.
Thousand crystal frost spread over the fresh green shoot.
Wise old magpie digging for his loot.
Our catchment clear water, is free from the mining boom.
Irreversible damage sets other areas to their doom.
No particles in our mountain air,our breath free and smooth.
Food free from poisons, in our tummies they soothe.
Living it large is barely living at all.
To be be a part of nature, we should applaud.
Silent sentry casuarinas welcome in the new day.
They look over the river were the ducklings splash and play.
As the long fingers of greed sweep across our land.
The more important, the beautiful things we have at hand.
Deon Heemskerk 14-9-11
Cool mountain air fills my lungs at dawn.
Late spring frost glistens on the lawn.
Blue crimson sky, marks the end of the night.
When the sun’s face shows, platypus gets out of sight.
Pity the souls that live in the city, buildings so high they can’t see the sky.
Filling their tummies with poison and their heads full of lies.
Fighting, scratching, biting for their piece of the pie.
Gathering possessions they will never be able to keep.
Slowly their families slip into water too deep.
Back in the mountains a sweet spring breeze blows.
Between giant granite boulders the Macdonald river flows.
No million dollars to be made here, but peace and happiness is mine to keep.
Deon Heemskerk 7-9-11