Wattle

Wattle wattle everywhere
Wattle we do next wattle
Yellow life exploding out from each coarse stem
Joyful for a few short weeks
A few short weeks and then
Scrub wattle dry wattle
Until spring comes again.

poem by David Keig
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Wings Over The Ocean

Wings over the ocean
Footprints in the sand.

Quiet voices in the softest breeze
Feet balancing on land.

Gentle thoughts and gestures
No voyage as yet planned.

Wings over the ocean
Then soaring o'er dry land.

poem by David Keig
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Heartbeat

Heartbeat
Why do you beat when my baby kisses me?

Hearbeat
Why do you beat when i cannot find the key?

Heartbeat
Why do you beat when it seems i can't find me?

Heartbeat
Are you just a symptom of anxiety?

poem by David Keig
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Each Kiss

Each kiss
Anticipation
Of where it maybe leads
Each touch
An invitation
Of sensuality and needs
Each glance
A tender tempting
Of each kiss and touch and then
We part and wonder to ourselves
When shall we meet again?

poem by David Keig
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Politics I Understand

Politics i understand
Someone once said to me
Its really not that complex
Its really quite easy
If right is right
Then left is wrong
She said with confidence complete
Its no wonder that she and i
Never again did meet.

poem by David Keig
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A Past Love

Our love is like a melody
Played badly out of tune
Our love is like those plants we bought
That never seem to bloom
Our love is like an acid bath
That quickly strips away
All pretence of civility
No matter what we say.

poem by David Keig
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Touch

Touched with such a closeness
That could be called caress
Touched with many meanings
That could become, I guess
The promise of a life beyond
The life it is that passed
Touched with such a closeness
But do I answer 'yes'?

poem by David Keig
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SIgnposts

Let us spin this signpost
Then choose where we shall go
So where our path will take us
We will never know
That's not until we get there
But that could take some time
So don't believe in signposts
They're just a state of mind.

poem by David Keig
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Mr. Abraham Abramovitch

Mr. Abraham Abramovitch
Was very very rich
He bought a club called Chelsea
Who play football on a pitch
He purchased many players
Who were good at playing football
Then one day he just got bored with it
And didn't mind at all.

poem by David Keig
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Do You Just Love My Mind?

Now's the time for honesty
The time for truth or dare
When you say that you love me
Does it really mean you care
Enough to fight the battles
That do trouble me at times
Or does it simply really mean
That you just love my mind?

poem by David Keig
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