5 Poems from Peter Rimmer


I was a peculiar child
In love with magic and wonder
In a world awash with both

A mirror was a portal
To another world
Where a child
Looked back at me
Capered and clowned
Mimicked my every move
Set and framed
A window between worlds

Lying in the cool grass
Shaded from the sun
I’d watch the sky people
Drifting by
In shape shifter billows,
Imagining I could fly
Soaring the blue infinite
Dancing on wings
Riding air
I’d play

Dreaming adventures
With witches, trolls, wizards and dragons
Castles made in trees

My sister was gifted a bangle
Something in the word jarred
I dreamed it alive in sweated sleep
A troglodyte monster
Atop a lonely mountain road
Stripping flesh from human bones
The notorious Bangler
Made his abode

I shivered in the warm sun bright
When I saw its talisman
Proudly worn
A circle dancing with impunity
About my sister’s wrist
Taunting, daring me to breathe magic into its name
The fearsome Bangler
Hiding in plain sight


Shaggy tree shades
Cut a silhouette
Ink on silvered cloud
The Night King owns this hour

Behind me
To my east
Mountains cast up their proud bulk

Te Marama the moon
Sister silver face
Has hauled herself upon their shoulders
Now climbing her way
To her place
Among the firmament of old, cold stars

The Southern Cross
Shines from a crystal tear
A rent in a silvered swirl of cloud

I sit before a Hobo fire
Sipping beer
I imagine myself to be
An infinite echo
In a boundless room

In my innermost world
I dance with the flames
That flicker and flare with primal joy
On the face of an ember bed

I am at peace with myself
At peace with the world


A dove grey breast
Of cloud
Settles low in a broken sky

Winter has made his home here
A brittle sun
Lances our world
With fragile
Hesitant light
Pale honey fluffs the underbelly
Of the sky doves cloud breast

Soon now
The winter solstice
The pivot
Upon which the seasons swing


Rain washes a hush
On the tin roof above my head
The Pacific Ocean
Is in the sky
Occupying the dawn
With night and shade
Its ally

A steady drum salutes the day
There is no colour
Only shades and shadows
Picked out against a slate grey sky
Define this day

In waves of sound
As sweeps of intensity
Range from dancing hammers
To falling feathers
A hush
To staccato drum


Time concertinas
Seems to expand and contract
No colour
No sound

All colours blurred
White noise
I am a piece of string
I unravel, unwind, unwound
Rock the roll of ages
Moss grows thick on this rolling stone

Windows open
Windows close
Creaking on an incessant breeze
A door I swing
On a creaking hinge

My ghosts trail me
A silent parade of hollow shades
And I my sails full blown
Sweep my comet self
From then to now
Into the unknown

Cleanslate new day
Well I know
There is no such beast
The past haunts the future
Now we are ghosts
Haunting this space

Time concertinas
Squeezed it contracts
Expands and we fly
I look to you and you to I

I am not an island
And neither are you
We are connected
I’ll trade your ghosts for mine

We blaze our skies a note on a breeze
Caught and gone
Time concertinas
In, out, we’re gone

Find more by Peter Rimmer on The Blue Nib Here

Peter Rimmer and The Cowboy Gangstas are on Facebook here

About the contributor

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