The man in the moon is smiling at me again;
His full disc face and his icy grin.
A cool mint breeze chicken skins my surface.
Comes deep from the winters lungs with a freezing purpose.
All summer i yearned for the flames of the soul rising fire.
Now my wood is all burn’t, and extinguished all my desire.
My longest days seem to have approached in the shortest one.
If sleep was my steak, it would be well underdone.
Now we have dug our selves to the bottom of winters hole.
At least we are looking up,
with still a long way to go.
© Deon Heemskerk 2013
In the cold of the morning, the frost cannot freeze your thoughts.
A restless nights sleep, no clarity it has brought.
The early morning sun kisses the side of your cheek.
It’s the warmth of direction and focus you seek.
The struggle within, the struggle many face.
True passion, that must be freedom the lucky taste.
The hope of yours, may become the disappointment of others.
Responsibilities stack and time increases the smoulder.
They shouldnt be called cross roads, there is more than just right and left.
Many tracks to choose from, which consoles your soul best?
The easiest path is never the right one.
If you had of walked up the hill, you would have won.
The time lost in limbo on the plain, easy walking but no fun.
Time to hit the hill and head for the sun.
© Deon Heemskerk 16-12-2012
Her breath creates a fog that floats out into the air.
Tiny sparkling crystals form at the end of her hair.
Willow bark shines like its varnish covered.
Weeds turned beautiful, with this winter white they are smothered.
Spider webs make cold rope thrown all along the road.
Thick is the frost that has settled, they bend to take the load.
Her eyes ski across the icy fields as she takes in the view.
The sun delivers a delicious meal, the blue sky so easy to chew.
Reflections of a cool mountain morning, a beautiful day to come.
Winter in full swing now and she is happy to let it run.
© Deon Heemskerk 27-6-2012
Sunset eagle circles the mountain tip.
First winter breeze stings my lip.
Cold stars rise from the western pink glow.
This is the start of the winter, mountain topper’s know.
The afternoon birds, eat the last of the day’s food.
The Macdonald sets a flowing contentive mood.
The granite boulders huddle in the last of the suns rays.
The changing of the season guard, is evident today.
The moons stainless edge, cuts into the darkness.
Reflecting off the river and into the emptiness.
slight cool shiver hits the top of my spine.
Warm house fire thoughts, seemingly divine.
© Deon Heemskerk 17-5-2012
My mind is awash with pastels, not greys.
The feel of a slight spring haze, the suns smileing rays.
Sweet words spoken softly, through a rose scented breeze.
Melt the heaviest of soul freeze.
Happiness and contentment, not sadness and dismay.
Soul sinkers hard to find, on the calmest of days.
White gum blossoms, fall like snow.
Drunk pollen bees hum, their spring thirst will grow.
These thoughts of spring days spent with you.
Will get me through my winter day gloom.
© Deon Heemskerk 28-4-2012