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jethro's picture

A Beach Poem

The waves rhythmically lap against the shore. What seems permanent in the moment is variable and shifts over time. The sand banks of today are the gutters of tomorrrow.

A continuous line of boats and jetskis heading out to play. A heron stalking it's prey while next to it two Spoonbills are busy digging for theirs. All right in the moment.

Fishermen repeatedly cast and wind, cast and wind.
My wife and daughter are chatting in the water. Catching up on each other's busy lives in this stolen moment of peace.

The sun warms my back as it continues its inexorable march towards its destiny. A yellow billed lapwing observes me with beady eyes. What does it see? How does it value time?

My shadow reflects my every move. Crows caw. Swallows flitter and squeak. Boats creak. There is serenity in this moment. I choose to rest in the midst of turmoil.

jethro's picture


As the rat catcher stepped on my head
I felt a visceral wave of dread
Pounding me down like legions of dead
Skeletons glimpsed in the mists ahead

Oh no I’ve opened the licht kings lair
So now I must needs go sneaking near
Hoping to find an unguarded stair
That way I may take him unaware

And just as I find a doorway in
A feeling I am about to win
Floods me with chemicals from within
Creating a neural network in

I just hacked into the minds archive
Find what I need to keep me alive
Arcane records from which I derive
Futures unfolding yet to arrive

Written 22 January 2023

jethro's picture


One thousand butterflies dancing across naked skin
Gossamer touches of ecstasy and pain
Delicate spiny toes stabbing soulward
Chemical nanites coursing through wide veins
Alluring alleyways of awareness
Self realisation


Deep frequency dreams thrumming through taut sinews
Discombobulating foundations of knowledge
Grasping for theoretical solidity
Butterfly wings soaring over an abyss
Paper pillars portray illusion


Crows caw conjecture and contention
Mighty trunks splintered by ravenous beaks
Shredded remnants of trust
A feather twists and drops
Resident amongst ruin and neglect

jethro's picture

I really am a good guy you know

This poem was written to my wife in the year 2000. It speaks for itself.


Subtitled My Bride

I really am a good guy you know

I just didn’t understand the meaning of go slow

I took no prisoners, made all the fast breaks

I didn’t realise I was making mistakes


I chipped all the corners, scratched all the edges

Like a maniac attacking a pair of box hedges

Without concern for the bed I was making

I roused up the dragon, from sleep she was waking


Like lightning striking from a clear cloudless sky

I was hit! “why me?” was my responsive cry

“what did I do?” or “was it my lack?”

but no answer was forthcoming back


I pleaded, cajoled, ranted and raved

It was like talking to oneself in an empty cave

The dragon lay brooding, considering my case

And I unaware was making mistakes


I should have known better, should have learnt from the past

But sometimes that’s tricky when life’s going so fast

To take time to think – why how would that leave

Time for the rest when you live life at speed


The answer came like a brick from the sky

Smote me on the forehead, right between the eyes

Just shut your big gob and listen you lout

Maybe that way some things you’d find out


About this passionate warm loving creature

She isn’t a dragon just about to eat you

But rather a fragrance, a gentle breeze

The sort that can appear then disappear with ease


To find her is rewarding, like uncovering treasure

She’s challenging, my mate, she’s sure got my measure

And if I take the time and effort to discover

She’ll probably morph into a passionate lover


I guess what I'm saying is that it’s not always easy

Sometimes I live like everything’s breezy

I really should be stopping to think and to ponder

How I can nurture my soul mate and wonder


Why do I hurt her when I only ever

Want to love her with all my endeavours

This lady this special girl by my side

Hey there gorgeous, will you still be my bride?


© 2000 Timothy Miller