We Are All Children Searching For
Love

Poetical works of Leonard Nimoy

Poetical works of Leonard
Nimoy

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:

https://books.google.com.au/books/about/We_are_All_Children_Searching_for_Love.html?id=M_Q2AAAACAAJ&redir_esc=y

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