Category: Original Poetry & Lyrics

Healing Prayer For Writers

Healing Prayer For Writers

Words (c) Indispiritus 2013


Great Mother, I am your child and I call to you: my spirit seeks your face as when I first saw you,
In days of loneliness when you revealed those devas on my path.
And now, at dusk, Great Mother, place your torch beside me: a warm and welcoming beacon for the night.
When I am tired and aching, lead me to the pool of your healing waters, where illness dissolves into ether,
And sickened tissues are regenerated as I drink deeply from your gentle and timeless nature.
When I am distressed by thirst, poverty or hunger, provide bounty and wealth greater than my needs,
And manifest the fruits of my desires.
Help me to achieve the peaceful life I seek within the folds of your sky, your earth and heart
And in the deepest pools of your wisdom.
Great Mother, as I rest in the warmth and peace of your hearth, fill me with your healing breath,
And as I sleep, mend what is broken, purify what is defiled, find what is lost,
And restore what has been taken from me.
Make whole my sight that I may see your beauty, and unstop my ears that I may hear always hear your
Welcome in this hallowed place.
Great Mother, as I rest in your dusky peacefulness, as with the eyes of a child awaiting the moon and stars,
Attune my ears to the sound of life’s song, and to the voices and visions of the future.
Heal my eyes that I may see and write your words, and speak of truth that man will hear.
Guide me, each day, on my path to realisation.
Great Mother, I am your child and I hear you.
Imbue me with courage and kindness, to love myself as you do.
Guide my heart to speak freely, to share my vision with clarity.
Show me the ways of forgiveness and compassion, and teach me of that in nature which is always true:
Of the difference between silence and solitude.
May your light guide me through life’s darkest places, and each step I take be filled with your power and purpose,
So that I may neither fear nor falter.
Help me see there is no fault in the natural world, and guide my efforts to repair the harm I may have done there.
Reveal the timelessness that enfolds you, where the dance of life has neither beginning nor end.
Dear Mother, in my heart there is much longing: help me understand your mysteries upon The Way.

(C) Indispiritus 2013






After viewing the series ‘COSMOS’ in the early 80’s, I was so inspired, I read the book, also, in order to review much of the evocative and appealing language of the series.


As a result, I have attempted to capture the essence of my favourite episodes in the following poem/lyric.


So, this is an attempt to replicate my experience with an adaptation of the message that Mr Sagan left us, with the following song, self-penned in 1982.










Inspired by Ch 13 of ‘Cosmos’ by Carl Sagan

We know who speaks for each and every nation. We know their names and faces and their worth. But who speaks for the human population – And all creation? Who speaks for Earth?

Our planet, infinitesimal and lonely, Of dust and vapor, now an ancient sphere. A crescent blue, our home amidst a universe of stars, An oasis of life so very dear.

We live in a planetary garden, And created from its dust we live and die. A single soul, though many, in a sacred unity: Walking with the same feet, Loving with the same heart. Seeing, hearing, learning, sharing, Working, thinking, always caring – We each have our very special part To make this world of unity complete. A convocation of the mind and heart: A place where gods and man can always meet.

We must educate our governments and leaders. Impress on them the need to talk and learn. As one people, our future lies within our hearts and minds. We must overcome suspicion, and trust and share in turn. There are many different ways of being human. And ways to use the knowledge we’ve refined. But to know we can prevent a holocaust yet fail to try: The agony that fills the final moments as we die…

If we fail, no more questions, no more answers. Never more the memory of love, a child. No more voyages to the moon, no descendants to be proud, No more songs for planet Earth if she has died.

We live in a planetary garden And created from its dust we live and die. A single soul, though many, in a sacred unity: Walking with the same feet, Loving with the same heart. Seeing, hearing, learning, sharing, Working, thinking, always caring – We each have our very special part To make this world of unity complete. A convocation of the mind and heart: A place where gods and man can always meet.

We speak for earth with every prayer and action. We speak for Earth in overcoming greed. We speak for Earth by seeking consultation; Communicating everybody’s needs. Each sapling in the forest re-established; Every child we educate from birth, And with every act of mercy and compassion In every nation – we speak for Earth.

Let every nation Speak for Earth….  and listen

Bush Camp

Bush Camp

Woke up one morning to the sound of nothing and the street lights still on. Began to wonder where everyone was and whether I was one of the privileged ones who’d been left behind:


Who’s gonna turn the lights off
Now that you’ve all gone to Mars.
The city stores are empty, there’s
No people, trains or cars.
And all across the country side
It’s quiet and dark and still;
The houses are deserted,
Farms idle and untilled.

It’s like the world’s assembled
At a giant footy game –
Left all the houses empty,
And the roads, streets and plains.
Yet even in broad daylight,
Through all the sun and rain,
Nobody’s turned the lights off –
The whole country’s all the same.

The air is clear this morning
And the silence seems so stark.
If I’d a car up Main Street now,
I’d get an easy park,
Cos all the roads are empty
And all the freeways clear.
Everyone’s left home for Mars
And left me standing here.

Maybe I was comatose,
Cos no-one told me why
They’d leave their house and
Neighbourhood and take off to the sky.
There’s no news on the radio,
Just static far and wide,
And streets lights burn so brightly
All across the country side.

And all across the nation
And all around the world
The lights are burning everywhere,
And all the flags unfurled.
And stuck on many windows
Are these quickly scribbled signs:
“We’ve gone to Mars, so help your self
To anything you find.”

The rivers are all flooded
With the rising of the tides,
And gaping holes across the land
Have wrecked the countryside.
The local dams are empty
And it hasn’t rained in years,
And sand creeps in from way out west
As the forest disappears.

Above, the skies are empty –
No satellites or planes,
And the skyline of the city
Bristles aerials and cranes.
But all the shops are empty
And offices are bare.
Seems, everyone has gone to Mars
To dredge the riches there.

There’s nothing left for taking,
It’s all been packed away.
And the sun creates a furnace
On these empty streets today.
A scrawny cat is searching
In the rubbish for a feed.
You think they’d take their cats and dogs,
Diseases, toads and weeds.

No sign of devastation;
No wars or battle zones.
The whole world’s fallen silent now,
And bleak as dried up bones.
They’ve taken everything that moves:
The oil wells are dry,
The metals and the minerals,
Gone with them to the sky.

So who will turn the lights off, now
That everybody’s gone?
It seems a waste to let them burn
If no-one wants them on.
I look up at the stars and see
A planet rising, red,
And wonder what you’re doing there:
Perhaps you’re even dead.

But, why in such a hurry,
And with all the cities bare,
As oceans lap the mezzanines,
And flotsam floating there?
And why desert the countryside
And miss the Devil’s dance?
‘Hope you’ve two of everything
While there was still a chance.’

You’ve left ships in the harbour
And buildings straight and tall,
And aircraft in the hangars
And rubbish in the mall. There’s
So much you’ve forgotten:
And I wonder how it feels:
Surrendering this Paradise –
The real estate and deals.

A few of us stayed sleeping
As you quietly flew away.
We live here quite contentedly
Like in the good old days.
And only one thing bothers us
On bedding down at night:
Who will turn the lights off
Now that you have taken flight?

We all use fire to see with
And we don’t need lights to read.
We lived this way for centuries
Before you crossed the sea.
We don’t use coal or iron ore
For what we need to do,
So someone find the bloody switch –
Because light’s ruining the view.

You’ve left your polystyrene cups
And paper, brass and steel.
Your bauxite and plutonium
Won’t cook an evening meal.
As I sit here by the campfire
With a steaming cup of tea,
I wonder why you bothered
For three wasted centuries.

Seems such a way to travel
To dig holes and farm the land,
And pile up Leggo buildings
With your clever brains and hands.
Barely here, and gone again,
To start on frontiers new:
Digging holes and farming Mars –
That strange stuff you folks do.

So who will turn the lights off now?
They’re running up a tab.
We’ve starlight in abundance,
And the lights will drive us mad.
Who forgot to throw the switch
That makes the cities glow?
I’m asking you to ask someone
Who knows someone who knows.

We Are All Children Searching For

Poetical works of Leonard Nimoy

Poetical works of Leonard

The two editions of poetry here are
written by Leonard Nimoy.

Yep, that one…. the Star Trek guy. The
one who played Mr Spock, a shade greener than most of us, and with pointy ears. Did you know he was not only a gifted poet but also  a photographer.

And I just want to say that I miss him.

It was one of his poems that really inspired me to write further, to extend his idea. The result is a poem/lyric with the same title as his book (see at right), written in October, 1983.

I was moved to write this because much had happened to me personally – I had matured. My own travels and friendships with people of other races and creeds were a catalyst to my understanding of who I was, where I truly stood, and how the world could be – but why it isn’t.

Nimoy describes human empathy, and how simple it really is to overcome prejudice
when you take the time to get to know people who are a little different from your own.

As a result, I can truly say that the the Earth is one country, and friendship, cordiality and peace can be achieved … I have seen it happen so many times.

I have not sought Mr Nimoy’s permission to publish here, but give full acknowledgment of his work as the source of my inspiration. His book was published by Blue Mountain Arts, August 1977. “We Are All Children Searching for Love: A Collection of Poems and Photographs”, by Leonard Nimoy. See also the link included here:

We Are All Children Searching For Love

We are all children needing and wanting
Each other’s comfort and understanding.
We are the dreamers, we are the dancers –
Life is our music and love is our song.

We are all children needing each other,
Afraid of the dark and of being alone.
Fighting back tears and the fears that would choke us,
Frightened, unsure, as we face the unknown.

Our hate and suspicion will one day destroy us;
Curiosity gone, we condemn what we fear.
We tremble with rage in response to injustice
Yet cry out and shatter the peace once so near.

We are all children, though we appear older.
One day we’re not talking, the next we are friends.
Life’s just a game played within a chalk circle –
It’s no fun alone and it’s sad when it ends.

But then, out of fear, we make war against nations,
We kill and we maim to protect what we know
From that which is foreign: the richness of strangers,
Their language, traditions – all these we disown.

But if each individual would turn from his own world
And, just for one day, become part of mankind.
Standing together, arms on each others’ shoulders,
The whole world one country, one planet, one mind…

It would then be so hard to let go of each other,
For we are all children just searching for love.
It would then be so hard to turn one from the other
For we are all children searching for love.

The Hive

So many things to write about but must keep my focus.

With two manuscripts on the go, and heaps of songs and poems,
photos and news, stay tuned for many beginnings.

This first entry features lyrics to a song inspired by a
Kasey Chambers and Shane Nicholson hit called
Rattlin’ Bones. At the time of writing I was living alone in a
farmhouse, writing each day, and dealing with all the stuff in my
head and life that living alone forces you to do.

Looking out the window, across the dry, stalked fields
where sorghum stretches like a waving, russetted sea to the horizon,
dotted with moored farm houses, I’d reflect beyond my daily work,
wondering and questioning farm practices – the way we abuse country,
our loveless relationship with cattle, timber and water, and often with each other.
I long to return to far north Queenland, with its lush, fattened
country and, in this frame of mind, wrote …

Barren Ground

We’re going down. Earth’s cracked and brown,
And harder than a river stone.
It’s cold as hell – should’ve guessed as well.
Wouldn’t come here if I’d known.

Wind moans cold round this house, so old,
So rusted – it buckles and groans.
Clouds stay high, and the roof stays dry.
All’s left is the crop we’ve sown.

Dawns start grey with the wind all day,
Not a drop of rain comes down.
Sky’s like lead, like an unmade bed:
A loveless, barren ground.

Frost last night. Now sun shines bright
On the only place that’s warm.
But the water’s froze on the kitchen stove.
It’s hard when your man is gone.

Can’t bake bread when the fire is dead
And the water’s turning brown.
What else to do when the work here’s through
And there ain’t no jobs in town?

Days grow long and the wind’s still strong,
Cracking up the crazy ground.
I’ve sold the plough – tractor’s going now:
Back to the bank in town.

It’s a shame, disgrace how they farm this place –
Beating out a penny for a pound.
And now they’re digging holes and they’re mining coal –
Diggin’ under the barren ground.

Heat rolls in, creaking walls of tin:
An’ it’s hotter than a forge’s fire.
Rain tank’s low – nothing here will grow,
And nobody wants to hire.

Wind blows dry, and it stings my eyes –
As I squint out in the glare.
Ain’t no rain on this barren plain,
An’ we’re miles from anywhere.

It’s a shame, disgrace, how they treat this place –
With another drought settling in.
Shouldn’t be allowed, tilling barren ground
And trucking the water in.

Kids, pack your bags! Load up the swags –
Leave nothing but the dust on the walls.
We’re heading north where mountains cut the air
And, at night, the curlew calls.

We’ll drive all day, till we’re far away
From these dusty, barren plains,
To where the sugar stands tall
And the waterfalls
Thunder with the summer rains.

It’s what you love that you care for most:
So, how’s your pot of gold?
Greed’s okay – it’s the market’s way –
Of looking out for when you’re old.

But when you’re done and your fortune’s won –
When you’re tired and aching and bored,
What’s left to buy, so you’re bones won’t dry,
While you’re waiting for your Lord?

Copyright – Jo Grimmer 2008