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Ross DixPeek

The Wedding Ring!

The Wedding Ring!


The wedding ring I wear
upon my finger,
Is far more than just that,
It is in essence a most majestic
golden-band forged on a white-hot anvil
of unconditional and eternal love
within the deepest recesses of my beating,
burning heart, a most enduring
and indestructible bond that
transcends time immortal, and
forever binds my fevered soul
to this flame-haired Goddess
of my destiny,
Sweet love and passion incarnate,
My Dearest Aphrodite…

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The White African

The White African

By
Ross Dix-Peek


Over the great ocean seas
My ancestors did choose to flee,
Europe’s rumblings and poverty,
And to “Darkest Africa” did journey

It was many, many years past,
When Queen Vic’ was still at the mast,
When my forebears resolute did come,
To live beneath the great African sun

Since has Mother Africa suckled our young
To us her lullabies and sweet songs sung,
And all this time ‘neath her fiery mantle
Did my people in Africa live, toil and battle

[...] Read more

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Rwandan Elegy

Rwandan Elegy


The foul stench of burning flesh permeates the air,
Rotten, putrefying bodies lie in the baking sun,
Bright crimson death everywhere,
Frightened masses on the run

Wide-eyed terror on the prowl,
Africa rent asunder,
Can be seen Death’s scowl,
Sheer madness in Rwanda

Frenzied killing unabated,
A fevered orgy of blood,
Hate and bloodlust not sated,
A vile and incessant flood

Machete’s a-glint in the firelight,
Dark night knows no end,

[...] Read more

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An Ode to the Autistic Child

An Ode to the Autistic Child

By
Ross Dix-Peek

I care not for what you wish.
I am a planet unto my own.
To you I am strange.
But, you cannot see my world.

In your world, you are limited.
In mine, I am “King”,
Where effulgent stars know no bounds,
And my dreams no limitations.

Think not of my body,
For it does not define who I am.
No, look into my eyes,

[...] Read more

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The Fishing Trip

The Fishing Trip

By
Ross Dix-Peek


Oh, How I remember those fishing trips with my Dad
Ah, They made me so very, very glad
Up at three in the morn
Long before the coming of the dawn

My father assembling all his fishing tackle
So very gleeful, a laugh and a cackle
“Have you got the bait boy, ready to go? ”
“Yes, Dad”, and away we would go, all in tow

In our dear old “Landie” the rugged road was ne’er a problem
As we traversed the winding dirt tracks, and some
Ah, the window down and the wind in my hair
The smell of fresh bait a waft in the air

[...] Read more

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