Standing on the rocks so tough,
surrounded by the green marshmallow tuft.
Sits our home in a sweet peach draft.
In our hearts this land leaves its mark.
Not for our wallets or financial gain.
We come to this magic place to escape the strain.
To incorporate with our surrounds and each other.
Some like their barking neighbors,
but i find the birds much nicer.
Trickles of time spent in the garden of this afternoon.
Not wanting to put down this bliss any time soon.
© Deon Heemskerk 29-1-2013
Many mysteries hang like fog, around that track.
Lost in the journey forward, with no chance of finding the way back.
Only whispers of legends and triumphs, no evidence remains.
Many speak of the treasures that taking the path may gain.
Not a road most traveled, not the easiest path.
Up along there I can see bright flowers and the greenest of grass.
Steep and winding and shrouded with trees.
Heads into the mountains, with the smell of a sheer cliff breeze.
One step after another, how all journeys take place.
Into the future I step, upward my gaze.
© Deon Heemskerk 9-11-2012
Sniff of Spring
Small cotton balls form clusters,
they hang like chandeliers
waiting to burst full of colour.
Tips of fine green hair
just above the surface,
Signs the ground is about to rupture.
Pockets of sweet impregnated air,
waits for warmer air to surf on.
Honey bees ready for the busy shift,
humming for the punch drunk pollen
they work on.
the newborn chirp,
the seasons theme song,
same but different every year.
The plum flower so early,
chance of destruction by a late frozen tear.
Chocolate cake soil,
waits for the oven to be turned on.
Then it will give rise and grow.
The arrival of the best time of year.
Accumulation of enthusiasm,
growing with the natural flow.
© Deon Heemskerk 30-8-2012
Through the granite gates and onto the range.
Frosty foggy mornings, so beautiful and strange.
River runs to kookaburra laughter.
Free from the strain of the mining plunder.
Willow dips its finger tips into the cool flow.
The white body forest waits for the eastern glow.
The land where the sun meets the crystals in the sky.
No clearer site, tear forms as a cool breeze hits the eye.
Beautiful fresh air, sunlight highlights the Sheoak’s hair.
Birds play in the morning sun, like your not even there.
More days like these please, a world growing rarity.
© Deon Heemskerk 29-6-2012
The most positive path is never the easiest.
Always challenging but does not have to be Everest.
My worse enemy, my own shadow.
Talking me down, with negative words and whispers of sorrow.
Fear of failure and a chip on my shoulder.
Time for the next leap, not to let the ideas smoulder.
Come out of my shell and stop hiding behind a mood.
Where dark ideas linger and negative actions brood.
Just one positive action, can change your path through time.
Much greener a path, much sweeter air to find.
Cross the clear creek and into the hills beyond.
There will always be snakes around, trying to steal your song.
Poisons to slow the progressions you have made.
Pitfalls and caverns close at hand, to get you waylaid.
Its much easier to be the downfallen and forgotten.
Write your self off and be bitter for the things that you weren’t given.
It makes more sence now to swim against the tide.
In an age where society is floating in a bloated sence of false pride.
© Deon Heemskerk 25-5-2012
The green rolling hills, is just what I need.
Hitting the road, beautiful scenery on I feed.
Anguish that you are not here to share.
This beautiful country, the adventure, freedom blowing through your hair.
The gold sided cliffs of the blue mountains.
Three sisters stand staring at the valleys fountains.
My mind hovers above a fastly moving highway.
Warmth resonates to my bone, in the cloud speckled sky.
Miners eager to dig up our wholesome liverpool earth.
Results far more serious than its worth.
A crack in our food bowl and a nation goes hungry.
Short sightedness, on a highway making past and present generations angry.
For now I move freely through this beautiful nation of ours, with fun.
The day may come that it is not ours but theirs, the great Aussie land sale has begun.
© Deon Heemskerk 28-3-12
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