Gentle Women

They came in as gentle women
Of uncertain middle age
A few drinks once inside them
Seemed to summon up some rage
They turned on a poor fellow
Who had done no wrong to them
They openly derided him
As so typical of men
Everything about him
They freely criticised
But when he had the nerve to speak
They simply rolled their eyes
But since they did keep drinking
And at times began to weep
Slowly they all one by one
Did, happy, fall asleep.

poem by David Keig
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Did She Ever Dance The Tango?

Did she ever dance the tango
On those clear and cloudless nights?
Did she ever wash the dishes?
While I was wondering what might
Time have made of our new loving
Or was it moving out of sight?

Did she ever fully love you?
Or did she merely say she did?
Did she sometimes feel too tired?
Or did she not have any kids?

Did you simply just forget me?
Why did you let my passion die?
Why did you never ever let me
Just be me so i could fly?

poem by David Keig
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A Fuller Figured Woman

A fuller figured woman
should never be ashamed
of the ampleness upon her
nor the need to rearrange
her wardrobe every season
as the curves fight with her clothes
oh god save me from the skinny
i've never fancied one of those.

A fuller figured woman
should not put out the light
when she gradually undresses
and prepares herself for night
for the fuller figured woman
is not someone to be scorned
for her body won't discomfort you
and she'll always keep you warm.

poem by David Keig
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A Bitter Harvest

I have reaped a bitter harvest
I have sowed seeds that are sad
I have balanced all my wealth in life
Against the things i had
My children are away from me
My father has just died
My heart it is a'weaping
And my soul feels crucified
Each grain in that balance
Is much heavier than lead
My eyes are aged - my feelings flayed
My joy it is now dead
Oh why should all this happen?
Oh what does all this mean?
My longing for connection
Not the space that lies between.

poem by David Keig
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I'd Like To Age Disgracefully

I'd like to age disgracefully
And do all the things i like
Like eating biscuits while in bed
And riding naked on my bike
I think as we grow older
Then some things are left behind
Some with regret i have to say
But i think there's greater peace of mind
There's a returning to the playful
And an opening of eyes
Even if your energies
Are sometimes compromised
So, lets all grow old disgracefully
And let the young ones say
The day that i am older
I want to be that way.

poem by David Keig
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Forgiveness

Not to forgive is emptiness
For cold and lonely souls
Who understand forgiveness
As somewhere they can't go
They fear a loss of strength it seems
And trap others in their web
Of blame and guilt and right and wrong
And leave the truth unsaid
For truth is not their province
Nor humanity their cause
They ask others to obey them
And think they own the laws
They seek virtue in adversity
They cannot once forgive
For they have never done a wrong
In the perfect lives they live.

poem by David Keig
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Whale Song

Can you hear the Whale Song resonating deep?
Can you hear that deep slow hum within your mind asleep?
Can you understand the Whale Song and feel its undulating tones
Vibrating through our bodies within our flesh and bone?
Why is it that the Whale Song entrances us in life
And let's us glimpse a real-ness that needs not ears nor even eyes?
Maybe it's that the Whale Song makes us feel part of this earth
In a way that seems to be obscured in the life that follows birth.

poem by David Keig
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Dreams

When then a child I had brave dreams of things that might just be
As I grow older so it seems those dreams are part of me
The longing and the wistfulness that out of dreams are made
Are by life's beauty lesser things and fall into the shade
Of what is real and what is not and so our dreams become
The hope that lies inside of us and forever drives us on
For dreams are dreams when all is said and dreams are wafer thin
And the magic that we have in life comes only from within.

poem by David Keig
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A Little Devil

I have this little demon
That lives inside my head
I’ve never ever seen him
But I’m sure that he is red.

Those times when I feel happy
He’ll stoke a fire for me
So my good mood is soon replaced by
Full-on anxiety.

When I’m asleep he’s busy talking
When I wake he’s in my ear
I simply can’t escape him
And his chatter's all too clear.

I hate this little demon
And it's now me who's feeling red
So I’m taking all these little pills
To ensure that he's soon dead.

poem by David Keig
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Burma

My father fought in Burma
At the time of World War Two
He didn’t hate the Japanese
He just hated what they’d do
When they went into a village
That the Japanese had left
They'd find children wrapped upon barbed wire
Bayonet wounds in their chests
He rarely spoke about it
Like others of that time
He left the army as a sergeant
With damage to one eye
But the damage was far deeper
And was not easily discerned
For what lived on inside of him
Was the horror that he’d learned.

poem by David Keig
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