Why?

Why?

Why is life like the ebbing tide?

The ebb of tides is never-ending

Devastation can come in one huge wave

Or glide you gently into the shore.

 

Why is life like the shining sun?

Its radiance never ceases to glow

Harsh heat often sets the earth ablaze

Or softly warms us on a winters day.

 

Why is life like the lilies of the field?

They stand so tall in their Sunday best

Winter winds causes them to tilt and bend

Or makes them dance in a summers breeze.

 

Why is life like a shooting star?

Sometimes you see it, sometimes not

Leaving a trail of light across the evening sky

Or gone in an instant, to be no more.

穢 Chrissy Siggee

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

From my book: Glimpses of His Glory

Archived in: Poetry Mix

Lost – (September is World Alzheimer’s/Dementia Awareness Month)

Lost

Tears roll down her sunken cheeks
Sorrow falls from all she seeks
Memories
Where have they gone?

Silent weeping, full of dread
Photos stand beside her bed
Treasures
No longer mean a thing.

Recollections of a lifetime friend
She cannot comprehend
Inquires
What was her name again?

Misplaced images, shapeless faces
Times past gone, she embraces
Snapshots
Within a puzzled mind

Unsure of the man beside her lies
Sleep wont come to heavy eyes
Confused
Why cant she remember?

Dark hours bring loss and sadness
Barely surviving utter madness
Loneliness
Tortures a baffled mind.

Laughter echoes through the day
Someone brought a big bouquet
Mystified
Who was that nice young man?

Foreign words, vague identities
Now she speaks obscenities
Misunderstood
Unable to say things clear

Caring physicians calm her protests
Guide her through painless tests
Frustration
Why cant she tell the time?

Rejecting yet another embrace
To just become another face
Heartache
Mirrored in her childrens eyes.

穢 Chrissy Siggee

This poem is dedicated to those who suffer from Dementia,
Alzheimer’s
and to those that have been forgotten.

Archived in: Poetry Mix

Roof Top Dancing

tap, tap, tap
thud, thud,
bump bump.

repeat

There is someone on my roof
It sounds like they are dancing.

tap, tap, tap
thud, thud,
bump bump.

repeat

I wonder if this roof is dance-proof
It wouldnt be for elephants prancing.

tap, tap, tap
thud, thud,
bump bump.

repeat

Who is dancing on my roof?
Toward the eaves they’re now advancing.

tap, tap, tap
thud, thud,
bump bump.

repeat

I sneaked a peek to find the proof
To do this, it took some chancing.

tap, tap, tap
thud, thud,
bump bump.

repeat

There is someone dancing on my roof!
It’s three galahs belly-dancing.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galah

穢 Chrissy Siggee

Archived in
Poetry Mix and Children’s Corner

Rainbow Smile

I asked an old lady in the park if she had seen my little boy.

‘What does he look like?’ she replied.

‘Well,’ I answered, quite sincere

‘He has brown eyes
and hair to match;
Too many curls for a little boy,
combed to perfection every day;
His teeth are white as white can be
A very tidy little man is he!
He wears a smartly pressed sailor suit
with little white shoes to match.’

A perfect darling is my boy.’

‘No child like this I have seen,’ the lady did respond,
‘but a treasure you will find, just around that path.’

Around the garden path I went
and before me, a treasure my eyes beheld

He had brown eyes
and hair to match.
A shock of curls in disarray,
band-aid knees and soiled clothes
What happened to my little boy?
At front, he had a missing tooth;
he was eating ice-cream from a cone,
his face aglow with a rainbow smile.

’A perfect darling is my boy.’

穢 Chrissy Siggee

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED From my book: Glimpses of His Glory

Archived in: Poetry Mix

A Fly called Mable

There once was a fly called Mable,
whose life was quite unstable.
You see, she lived in Humpty Doo
where they loved their barbecues
but often drank flies in their booze.

Chrissy Siggee

(Note: Humpty Doo is a small town approximately 40 kms from Darwin, Northern Territory Australia)

Archived in: Poetry Mix

A Man Named Rob

A Man Called Rob

There once was a man called Rob,
who lived in the town of Dungog.
With daily doses of moonshine,
he couldnt walk a straight line.
Sadly, he drowned in his grog.

Chrissy Siggee 2020

Note: Dungog is a town in New South Wales, Australia.

Archived in: Poetry Mix

A Man called Rob

There once was a man called Rob,
who lived in the town of Dungog.
With daily doses of moonshine,
he couldnt walk a straight line.
Sadly, he drowned in his grog.

Chrissy Siggee 2020

(Note: Dungog is a rural town near Maitland north of Sydney)

Archived in: Poetry Mix

The Smell of Death Lingers

The Smell of Death Lingers

The smell of death lingers 
It lingers in the bedroom
and in the dining room.
But, in the garden 
it grasps the essence of life
Even the weeds share their aroma.

The smell of death lingers
Odours cannot be shaken
it's everywhere I go.
But, in the garden 
it grasps the essence of life
Even the weeds share their aroma.

The smell of death lingers
It lingers on my clothing
every breath smothers me.
But, in the garden 
it grasps the essence of life
Even the weeds share their aroma.

The smell of death lingers
Until life yields into death
to finds its final path.
And, in the garden 
it grasps the essence of life
Even the weeds share their aroma.

Chrissy Siggee July 2021

Archived in: Poetry Mix