Poetry – Life


Life is like a meander through a wood on a sunny afternoon.

You know you’re going somewhere but you don’t know where.

At first the trail is big and wide with many people to direct you.

But it soon begins to fork and split and meander off into the unknown.

Some paths are enticing but they rarely lead anywhere.

Sometimes you become distracted by a pleasant glade

And stop for a while to linger in the beauty of its dappled warmth.

Sometimes you are lost within the darkness of forbidding trees.

Trails come and go and usually peter out into thick undergrowth.

There is no map to guide you on your journey

And the tales of the fellow travelers that you meet along the way

Are often not at all helpful.

When you set off you had all the time in the world

But it is already late afternoon. The sun is low in the sky

And night is drawing near.

There is no way back to from where you came and no end in sight.

Time is slipping away.

There were so many things that you intended to do;

So many places that you intended to visit

And so many people you wanted to meet.

There was not time to do it all.

Now, as night is about to fall, you wonder if you followed the right trail.

Where did all that time go?

How did you get here?

This is not where you intended to end up

That morning when you set off down your trail.

The journey distracted you.

The trails led you away.

But have you enjoyed your day?

Opher – 8.5.2019

I’m not sure if this is a poem at all. Reflecting back on a long life one is struck by the way one has drifted along. Days were filled with all the routine of work, chores, family and the necessities. Rarely were their moments of clarity. Choices were always a risk.

One packed in what had to be done and selected the options from the menu on offer.

The meal was not always what one ordered.

Poetry – There Are No Answers

There Are No Answers

There are no answers

To the heavens,

To life,

To thought.

There are no answers.

There are no answers

To death.

There are no reasons

To be found

For being,


Or wondering.

There are no answers.

But there are mighty questions

To be wondered at.

Opher 1.8.2018

To sit among the wonders of infinity and wonder – that is remarkable. I find myself surrounded by questions with no answers in sight.

But it is good to wonder.

Poetry – Dreams are Real

Dreams are Real

Maybe dreams are real

And live forever

As expanding bubbles

Of imagination –

Expanding at the

Speed of thought –

Exploding through space

And time

Like ripples of surreal fantasy –

Passing through minds

Like beams of magnetic stimulation –

Caressing the sleeping senses

Of alien dreamers

And inducing smiles?

Opher 22.8.2016

Dreams are Real

I often play with this idea that consciousness is someone else’s dream. The reality we appear to live is an illusion. The more science discovers about quantum physics, subatomic particles, black holes, quasars and the big bang the stranger it all becomes.

All we know is that life is a lot weirder than we ever imagined.

I like the idea that dreams have a life of their own and travel between our minds in sleep – out to the stars and into the minds of other life-forms on planets light-years away.

Better to communicate and induce smiles than to remain apart and induce fear.

I’m a hopeless romantic.

Groucho Marx Quotes

Some people have a way with words. Groucho was one of the best. Bumba reminded me yesterday!

Those are my principles, and if you don’t like them… well, I have others.

“I find television very educating. Every time somebody turns on the set, I go into the other room and read a book.”

“I have had a perfectly wonderful evening, but this wasn’t it.”

“I never forget a face, but in your case I’ll be glad to make an exception.”

“There is one way to find out if a man is honest; ask him! If he says yes you know he’s crooked.”

“I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I’m going to be happy in it.”

“Next time I see you, remind me not to talk to you.”

“I intend to live forever, or die trying.”

Poetry – Torrential Rain

Torrential Rain

Torrential rain fell down like truth

On the heads of the people walking home

Staccato rhythms

On wellington’d minds

This is another of those little haiku type poems I wrote back in the 90s. It seemed very fitting at this time of election fever!

My spellcheck says that there is no such word as welllington’d. There is now.

We are all surrounded with information and truth yet ignore it. We prefer to live in our little insular bubble. As long as we are comfortable and getting our needs met we can forget about the nasty things going on all around us. Besides there is nothing we can do about it.

Reality check – the reason ISIS is rampaging and the chimps are being slaughtered is precisely because people do not care.

We can make a difference!

Poetry – Between Something & Nothing

Between Something & Nothing

Between something and nothing

The ebb and the flow

The words that have meaning

And the ones we let go.

Between truth and fiction

And the dreams that we make

The life that we live

Asleep or awake

Between now and never

What is and is not

The ones that are guilty

And the ones that get shot

Between all we hold dear

And the things we must fear

Lie the questions we ask

As we peek through this mask

At a dream that’s not clear

We appear

To be here.

OPHER  26.11.96

On our first day we open our eyes into a brand new universe. It blinks into existence.

We accept the majesty of it as real and base our lives on the concrete character of its unchanging nature.

We only see a fraction of its reality. We glimpse the rest at best. Our instruments are our spectacles.

So what is this consciousness we hold so dear? A product of biochemistry? An evolutionary phenomenon?

Our awareness is an incredible and amazing delight.

Without it where would we be?

Poetry – Across the bounds of reason

Across the bounds of reason

From here in my head to your eyes

Across the bounds of reason

Is a leap of imagination.

Between us lies the universe

A tangled web of conjecture

With reasoned insinuation.

From here to there is too far

To be sure of anything

Least of all substantiation.

And from here to here is too near

To form an opinion

When all life is just infatuation.

What I see may be as it seems

Or just one of my dreams

Without seams to separate me from the gleam

That streams

From your eyes

Across the enormity of size

Despite it all we may yet be real

With time stood still

In a smile

Opher  8.12.96

We all live in universes within our own heads. Nobody knows what goes on inside that world; nobody can be sure that the colours are true or the symbols we use convey the same meaning.

I have my philosophy and who can ever understand?

We try to communicate between the polyverses of our existence. Reason tells us that we must fall short.

Our consciousnesses are islands; our words are semaphore messages across a void.

Poems are written in Morse Code with rhythm and rhyme to make the journey sweeter.

Even our own perception of reality is partial and subjective. We do not even see the universe we inhabit. I am in love with the mystical force of celestial magnificence. I cannot convey it.

Yet communication is all we have, and we love and reach out with sight and touch to taste each other’s worlds.