The weight of the water makes the branches hang low.
The rivers swelling mass continues to grow.
Taking the land as it roars.
Through the country side, it cuts like a saw.
Open ups old wounds and downs old trees.
Water is full of force but of form is free.
Spreads out across the plains, like parting fingers.
Blanketing the fields, its silty murkiness will linger.
Nature reminds us how small we are.
Egos will shrink as the water spreads so far.
The Sound of Rain
Water Particles break up on the window pane.
The sound on the tin roof deafening again.
Just like TV static but unable to turn it off.
Pounding the roof, this house a sound trough.
A slight break, then it eases away.
A mellow background sound, relaxation noise on replay.
Peace now flowing back into my mind.
Blissful, happy sleep and time to unwind.
© Deon Heemskerk 26-11-11
The rain pitta pattas on his back.
Little dams well and drop from his hat.
Grey sheets descend on the green mountain side.
Rock wallaby looks for shelter to hide.
Moss springs back to life, like a sponge taking water.
Valley echos with kookaburra laughter.
Wetter and wetter he will get.
But the day isn’t over to the expectations are met.
The peace of the valley washes over his skin.
Might chill his spine but his soul full to the brim.
Very blue, a deeper shade of mellow.
Quirky sort, a strange type of fellow.
Going out of his way to avoid the corporate snake.
Happy to sip wine and walk through the grapes.
Hiding in the hills from his past shadows.
In the clear stream, his new reflections values.
Not just him now looking back from that reflection..
love and natures guidance his new forward direction.
Now these two vines futures intertwined.
Peace and sweet fruit, all in good time.
© Deon Heemskerk 25-11-11
Forgotten friend or forgotten foe?
Unless im famous or a millionaire someone you don’t want to know.
Caught up in money making and empire building scheme.
I’m easily not cool enough to join your pretty boy, picture posing team.
Your imperfections are bubbling through that waxy exterior.
Your superficial ways making you feel superior.
Enough to make me angry and enough to make me vent.
Good luck sir with rest of your life! From the forgotten friend.
© Deon Heemskerk 22-11-11
Do not hide in a locked chest your heart.
Free the shackles from around your soul, from the days start.
Be the river, fed from a mountain spring.
Transparent, honest and welcoming.
Don’t let the ghosts from yesterday, crumble your present hour.
Storm clouds in your mind brewing an emotional shower.
Stop at dawn, see the days first rays and smell the flowers.
Don’t waste your time spitting wine in dark dingy corners.
Make your conversation a warm spring breeze, kissing the ears around you.
Don’t surround yourself with supermarket fruit, shiny on the outside but rotten right through.
Be the kookaburra’s laugh at the end of the day.
Your soul will lift and problems will melt away.
© Deon Heemskerk 17-11-11
Dew drop on a fresh scented petal.
In its sphere the world has settled.
A semi circle of water so clear.
Human ignorance, natures tear.
Rain drops can be heavy on a petal.
Like shoulders loaded with heavy metal.
In the mountains, dew drop so light and plentiful.
No burden on the petal so beautiful.
Time for many to truly see.
Many take no time for their thoughts to be free.
Human evolution has taken a step back.
Rape and pillage the land and a widening economic gap.
Each dew drop is an encapsulated ball of bliss.
As the day begins into the atmosphere it will release.
© Deon Heemskerk 14-11-11
Moon Light Night
On a full moon lit night.
A slight breeze makes shadows dance with delight.
In these dark quiet times sometimes old wounds open up.
Memories of past lives and things given up.
Time can heal but time can hurt.
The face in the moon all covered in dirt.
He smirks from an unreachable distance.
No offerings for problems or grievances.
Only astronauts may slap his face.
When they arrive and look back, only thoughts of their families they chase.
Forced into a coul-de-sac it may seem to be the end.
But there is always a way out, hole in the fence or help from a friend.
Same different moon
The moon chases the hands around the clock.
Rasberries I asked for, strawberries I got.
The sea tide shifts, the moon’s light reflecting.
Positive thoughts, a seed germinating.
Clouds in layers drifting in different directions.
People in society with different expectations.
Some float along just absorbing the scenery.
Others sneak up, smother the moon with their trickery.
Blocking the light they will darken the night.
Just to show what they can do when exerting their might.
In a far off distant land eyes look at the moon.
What it means to them, may be different to you.
© Deon Heemskerk 11-11-11
Sometimes to move forward, you must look back.
Pause, balance and shift load to keep the train on track.
Easy to drift of into the endless fog of reality.
Letting the ship be steered by the tide of western formality.
Being bred to fit a mould set by those before you.
Daring not to dream to big, to walk the path set by few.
Those inspirational pioneers that let their passion be their guide.
Their souls filled from nature, not letting success bloat their pride.
To follow your dreams sometimes is much harder than first thought.
Whats happened to us now? Corporate capitalism is all that is taught.
©Deon Heemskerk 7-11-11