White Feathers

A poem on wrote for the International day of Peace in 2016 …. worth another read …


Inspired to write a poem on peace, seeing as the 21st of Sept was/is the International Day of Peace.

a white feather fell from heaven doves fly by a bullet whistles past blood drips from the bough of a tree peace in our time is the mantra can it be believed cowardice, faith, protection, bravery peace so many messages, to which do we cleave hope from beyond; past, present or future don’t shoot the messenger crying white doves circle hoping they do not die bringing their message doves cry where children die hope dies when doves cannot fly may they be lifted on the wings of peace upwards to a burning sky to a place with no name the sun sets on a world in disarray how many more white feathers need to fall from a burning sky the spirits are watching are they at peace? I pray that…

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The Sunsets and Rises across the Red Sea

Have been based on the Red Sea in KSA since June. The desert  scenery is vast, breathtaking, desolate and beautiful. I have been going for sunrise runs/cycles across the barren plains and coast, feeling the morning heat rising and the humidity been burnt off as the wind slowly picks up, drying out everything, including my sweat soaked training gear and drying the sweat on my body. Here are some of the photo’s, taken with my Huawei P40 Pro, and amazing camera phone. More to follow … 🙂 … as, thanks to COVID I am still here for a few more months.

© 2020 michael d emmerich
© 2020 mikesnexus.com

Enough !!

how long must one endure?

giving up not coz I don’t care

but because others don’t

I’ve fuckin’ had enough

stepping back from life’s bullshit

fighting a losing battle

trying not to lose war

by losing the battle

how deep must one dig?

until you find it all,

then to discover

maybe you still do


© 2020 michael d emmerich

© 2020 mikesnexus.com

Too Tired To..


the last autumn leaf cleaves

bone tired, refusing to fall

grasping the weathered phalange

extending from the gnarled skeletal branch

reaching ….

by a mere filament it hangs

to stubborn … or

too tired to fall


that feeling, at days end

when the marrow has been sucked

from the core of your life

when you just too tired to sigh


yes, one of those days

that’s how I wake up these days

© 2020 michael d emmerich

© 2020 mikesnexus.com