another poem – short, and most rewarding.

Hotel view

I look out of the window,
at the vista of skyscrapers,
framed by the beach,
and the setting sun.

so cramped,
these lives of others
trapped in their units,
some don’t see the beach at all.

I step out,
on to the balcony,
and listen to the life far below,
and smell tropical flowers
their perfume is relaxing me.

on the far horizon,
there is a storm,
dulled by the distance,
it is a pretty light show.

the storm is getting closer,
but I can smell the rain,
feel the cool breeze,
and I wait for it to arrive.

The light show intensifies,
flashes that seem of blue, pink or white,
and i go inside,
lying on the bed,
watching the storm and the sunset.

it is a peaceful place.
Peter Holland 4.45am 31/10/09

For Gail

For Gail

I remember seeing a girl,
standing at the taxi rank,
she looked upset,
like she had missed something.

I recognised her.

I went up to her,
asked if she was alright,
asked if she wanted to share a cab,
and we went back to belconnen together.

We went to the boardroom,
a nice old haunt of mine,
she had a liqueur in a chocolate cup.

I walked her back up to the labor club,
she took my hand, and
led me towards the library,
we kissed under the underpass,
then she ran away.

I was in shock,
stunned,
partly because she had kissed me,
mostly because she had run away.

I thought,
I will never see her again,
and that was sad for me,
she was so smart,
so beautiful,
and I knew I wanted a girl like that for my forever.

Many months passed,
lonely months,
sad months,
ainslie village months.

And then,
when i had put her out of my mind,
I was reconnected,
introduced to her,
and we became friends.

we spoke nearly every night,
about every single thing,
and I was happy to hear from her,
and I wished she was mine.

she decided to have me over,
for dinner and a chat,
but her ex came back to town,
and the dinner was cancelled.

it was sad for me,
I wanted to be with her,
but it wasn’t yet my time.

She called me up,
out of the blue,
dinner tonight?
I was able to come over.

we talked and ate,
in a really small bedsit,
and then,
we kissed.

That was it,
she was my girl,
she was my friend,
she became my life.

We were together for everything,
when she changed jobs,
I was there,
when she felt down,
I picked her up.

I decided to propose,
in a romantic setting,
and popped the question,
in telstra tower,
I held my breath,
she said yes.

We were engaged,
living in a unit,
with running water down one wall,
and we started to save for our future.

we decided to wait,
no kids till a house,
and we saved,
saved and saved,
till we bought a house.

here, it all went wrong,
we were trying for kids,
and it wasn’t happening,
and we found that the problem,
was me.

I begged her to leave me,
to find a man who could give her,
the kids and a family,
she refused.

she found a solution,
IVF and assistance,
and she tortured herself,
with drugs and injections,
until we were pregnant,
I was so humbled by her sacrifice.

The child never made it.

I was devestated,
I withdrew from her,
and we drifted apart.

we reconnected,
and our daughter was born,
eyes like her mother’s
a tiny beautiful girl.

She decided that a friend was best,
for our daughter,
and back to the injections,
the pain,
the sacrifice.

we were told that there were two heartbeats,
there were two people coming,
and I prayed every day,
that all would be fine.

it was,
for the boys,
but I almost lost her,
and she almost died.

Now,
I feel like I am standing,
at the library,
watching her drive away,
watching her leave.

I don’t know,
if she is coming back,
but she loves me,
I know,
and I can wait…

22/10/09 Peter Holland

Social Media Faux Pas

I have been described as a full on kind of person. If I start using a social medium like Facebook, Twitter, etc, I am over the top in my hunt for friends, connections, hell, I even tweet at home at 3.00am.

I recently committed a cardinal sin, on twitter, by DM’ing a person that I really didn’t know, at all, multiple times. It wasn’t until they contacted me and asked that I cease my Stalking that I realised, that to a person I didn’t know at all, and who really didn’t know me, that it was pretty easy to see where the mistake was made. I was genuinely interested in what the person had to say, and was asking questions – innocently in my eyes, but that is not how it was taken by the person in question.

They were scared by my continual bombardment of questions, comments, and attempts to learn more about them. And I was ashamed that they felt that way. So, I apologised. I stopped sending DM’s to them, I withdrew any comments about what they were saying. I got to a point where I was embarrassed to provide advice about things they were looking for, and tried to avoid their tweets. When I did answer a question, I made sure that it was only the facts, not any additional information, and I still felt put off responding. Some of the comments that they made about me to me were uncalled for, there were things that they got terribly wrong, but I felt that there wasn’t any way to redeem myself in their eyes, so i gave up.

Now, I don’t want to answer their questions, I am trying to avoid their comments, and I feel down about what I have done to them. I understand that if you don’t know me, and I am sending you messages, lots, as I do with the people that do know me, it is easy to join up the dots to loony. For that, I am sorry.

Now, to make matters worse, I went and washed my car in weston, had to drive it around a bit to get the water off, and went to a local charity and chucked about $5 in shrapnel into a donation box. I then drove back to work. I mentioned this on another blog, and found that I had neglected to note that the person who feels threatened by me worked there. Dumb decision on my part, but not intentional. I completely forgot where they worked. I wanted to see what this particular charity looked like after the fires, but never got a chance to go there.

In hindsight, I cannot blame them for feeling threatened.

So, this is my tale of woe. I won’t do that again, I will keep my DM’s for people I know really well, and who know me.

whilst I cannot sleep….

I am waiting, yet again for the pain killers to kick in. and they aren’t.

So, while I am waiting, I thought I would chuck in some pomes. I know, that isn’t how you spell it….

summer storm

I am sitting on my chair, in the backyard,
watching the storm roll slowly over the mountains.
watching the sunset get obscured by the dark velevet of rain,
watching the sky fill with black…

There is a flash!
the sky lights up in a web of lightning,
leaving trails like dew on a spiderweb in its wake.
It is miles away,
but I can smell the rain, the moisture,
and I know it will be here soon.

I breathe slowly and calmly.
I feel the light breeze spring up,
long before the rain will come,
long before I must take cover.

and now, as the sun has sunk below the mountain ridge,
the storm turns on the light show,
pink, blue and white flashes,
all accompanied by the low rumble,
that grows as it comes ever closer.

It was a perfect summer’s day,
the sun was hot,
the shade was welcomed,
and now, the storm brings me the promise of an easy sleep.

In my reverie, I miss the signs,
and then it is upon me,
raw and powerful, the wind whips my hair,
the lightning dances over my head,
and the blessed rain begins to fall.

I could go inside,
I could hide from the rain and lightning,
But I choose not to,
not yet, not before I have cooled,
not before I am ready.

I get up from my chair,
wander inside,
close the door,
and wait….

the storm comes in all its magnificence,
lightning and thunder and power,
rain drowns out all sound,
as it pounds my roof.

and then,
it is gone,
the ground is cooled, the sky is clear,
and I can open my windows to welcome the breeze,
and I can sleep.

Peter Holland
21/10/09 2.37am

Driven away

I had seen a glimpse,
of my future,
a world of children,
laughter and love.

I had seen a glimpse of my dreams,
my desires,
and I wanted the dream to come true.

I was blessed with a little girl,
her eyes like her mother’s,
her heart was her own,
and she loves me.

I was happy, with my daughter,
my wife,
my life.

But we decided to have another,
a friend for my daughter,
a friend for us all,
and we tried again.

This child had golden hair,
and spoke to me in my dreams,
telling my not to cry,
telling me it was ok,
telling me that it would be better.

I never met them,
never got to stroke their golden hair,
never got to show them the world,
never got over losing them.

I retreated from the world,
hid from others,
clung to my daughter,
neglected my wife.

We tried again,
more out of desperation,
to heal the wound between us,
and to make our family whole.

We found that where there should be one,
there was actually two,
two little people,
to learn from us,
and us from them,
and still I neglected my wife.

The twins were born,
naturally,
easily,
no real complications.

and then it began.

my wife,
my rock,
my love,
my soul mate,
started to leave me.

she was dying,
losing far too much blood,
and she was slipping away from me,
and i sat,
held her hand,
and cried.

I was exhausted when they stabilised her,
they let me sleep in a chair,
next to her bed,
and I dreamt.

I dreamt of a golden haired child,
they told me not to cry,
that it would be ok,
that it would be better.

I woke,
so did my wife,
I never told her of the dream,
never mentioned the child,
never opened my heart,
and I drove her away.

Peter Holland
21/10/09 2.53am

Protected: Time for a change

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Talking about the Weather

For some reason, as i get older, my predictive powers are increasing. I have an uncanny knack to be able to look at the day, see the weather pattern and know whether it is a dry or wet day ahead. I have been pretty accurate re the recent dust storms. Yesterday, I was certain that we would get a thunderstorm. We did, but not that big, couple of rumbles and a few flashes. The rain is the important requirement. There was a bit in the night. We are now at 51% for the storage levels in canberra. we were at 40% not long ago. Maybe the drought is passed.

Jaded. In Moderation.

I have been put into moderation on one of the forums that i post on. I don’t like being in moderation. I don’t think anyone does. I did not swear or break any of the forum rules, but i did make a couple of glib comments, and that was enough. Into moderation i went. I have made comment before on the differentiation between the moderator’s personal views and the true moderation of a site, but this time, on the receiving end of a mod queue, I just don’t understand how the moderator can keep me in there still. But here is the thing.

I am a paying member. I have paid to be moderated. I am paying money that I can use elsewhere in order to keep the forum alive, and my money pays for my moderation. or the wage of the moderator. well, not for much longer.

One nation. Of Diversity

I have noticed a blog about the banning of head wear and other clothes that muslim women wear. the person who has written it was, in my mind, an educated and intelligent person. Until this post.

Now, I have no right as a man to tell a woman what to wear and when. It is their right and their choice and their body to do what they want. As long as it has no negative impact on me, I don’t care. If it has an impact on me, then i need to understand the reasons that they are doing what they do. Not to argue, but to gain an understanding of their diverse approach to life.

what if we lived in a world that said, if you live in this country, you cannot wear what you feel happiest in, be it a mumu, traditional sarong, or other clothing that was against the norm of western society or culture? every one would wear boring clothes, and not know that they were. individuality wouldn’t exist, and anyone who overstepped the boundaries would be persecuted. sound familiar? the cronulla riots were a wake up to us all. we were starting to head back to the dark place where if you weren’t white or at least followed the behaviour as dictated by the leader, you shouldn’t be here.

I agree that new immigrants should have a basic understanding of this country, but not to the detriment of their heritage and customs, or be made to forsake their heritage.

I mean that the ability to read, write and articulate basic understanding between people should be enough to allow someone to join our nation. 

the diverse nature of this country makes us all better for it. there are continual changes to the concepts that are the norm, and these are influenced by new ideas and behaviours, brought to us from other countries.

so much info, so little brain capacity…

I am learning about all these new products every day. they are exciting, and new updates happen everyday. what happens when I cannot remember something I learned today in a week’s time? I will be taking notes, using reminders in my calendar to be able to recall the info. There is a lot of stuff I need to know, but not so much time in the day to learn it. I am not looking at changing my work / life balance, I am going to bed at 2am, any extra work and i will be sleeping at my desk…

this is most definitely a bad thing. Now, silly season is upon us. I wonder when the message will sink in that I really cannot dedicate time to learning, as my clients are scrabbling for the sales, and I have to support them as quickly and accurately as I can?

I am now starting to forget things. A lot of things.

I don’t know if it is stress, tiredness or a combination of both, or something entirely different, but i seem to be forgetting things. Stuff I have no problem remembering a week ago have now gone completely.

And I am getting worried. I forgot of all things, my doctor’s appointment, which happens but once every 6-months, and the time for my appointment at the hospital – I was early. I forgot to tee up my ride for the surgery, and was so embarrassed, I neglected to tell my wife, and drove home afterwards. Not a clever thing to do.

I remembered our anniversary, and forgot the date of mother’s day. My wife didn’t get a card this year. I was saddened by the fact that this had happened. She didn’t seem to notice, or she just chalked it up to me being unthoughtful.

She tells me that i have changed over the past few years. I have, and i am certain that it isn’t for the better. I need to re-evaluate my life. I have stopped writing poetry, one of my most favored pasttimes. I have stopped jumping in and doing things. I have turned into a couch potato and I don’t seem to have the energy for most normal activities – I am no longer motivated to the levels that i want to be.

I want to be the old me, the one that is caring, loving and helping my wife. I don’t know where he has gone, I looked for him the other day, but I forgot where I put him.