Photo By Ken Bosma Flickr

Peace, like Giant Saguaro Cactus,
Took fifty years before flowering hope
Just night and green morning
Over quickly
Then flowers came out again

Again out came flowers then
Quickly over morning green and night
Just hope flowering before years fifty
Took cactus Saguaro Giant
Like peace.


By June Perkins


Words to Music – Lamp Lighters

Stories Break

A loving couple separated
and no compassion forthcoming.
What will happen to their future?
His flowers never reach her.
Is detention all there is?

Indigenous children tortured
gassed and tied
not given hope or rehabilitation,
The past seems full of lies.

So much ‘invisible’
by choice or design?
until the stories break;

and the stories break
my heart
the stories break
my day
the stories make me
want to say:

time to be a lamp lighter
lamp lighter of justice
lamp lighter of love
lamp lighter of unity.

(c) June Perkins




8038247032_75706fe002_o (2)
Creative Commons – Mark Smith

Peace, like Giant Saguaro Cactus,
Took fifty years before flowering hope
Just night and green morning
Over quickly
Then flowers came out again

Again out came flowers then
Quickly over morning green and night
Just hope flowering before years fifty
Took cactus Saguaro Giant
Like peace.

(c) June Perkins

On the Ocean Shores

19409675559_dfb55a242d_o (2)
(c) June Perkins

Child on
The ocean shore
Lost to his father
Gone from a future life.

Father at
The funeral march
Wrapped in his grief
Unable to say, ‘Please Don’t

The photograph
Of my son
Who I tried to
Save from war and ocean.’

World that
Circulated the image
Again and again when
They wanted to say ‘stop.’

The image
Doing endless rounds
Did it help them?
Did it bring him back?

Journey to Boonah – (c) June Perkins

Lost one
Winging his way
Away from the war
To the sky of dreams.

Are no
Words that will
Bring him home again
He’s left wars far behind.

The clicks
One by one
Today no time for
Poetry that turns people inwards.

The wings
In the skylights
Above this day turning
Poetry ever outwards to peace.

are no
Words that will
Say everything you need
Only small attempts at flight.


Beauty and
Politics walk hand
In hand like friends
To coax the audience to wake?

Politics and
Beauty wash away
layers of makeup logic
That defy time and truth?

My eyes
Climb walls to
Fly with the ibis
In the urban skyline?

The skyline
Beckon me to
Climb in to poems
Seeing, dreaming, waking, crying, activating?

My poetry
To tear down
Walls by mapped lines
Activating, crying, waking, dreaming, seeing.

(c) June Perkins

The Surprise


I like to go through my day mindful of my surroundings
letting thoughts rush through me.




Noticing the shadows cast by the trees
and the gaps of green between them.
Noticing the bird, is it a pheasant

disappearing into the woods?
Thinking about what happened in Nagasaki all those years ago.





Noticing the delicacy of the spider’s web
draped across a leaf
announcing its artistry
announcing the delicacy of human relationships.

And then sometimes there are surprises like
a new chainsaw sculpture – this time an Emu with eggs.



Walking mindfully is full of disturbances,ruptures, and then rewards
leading me to think of poems and stories everywhere I go and be,
and dream the possibility of peace.
(c) June Perkins

The Poet Sings of a Poet’s Tree

What kind of tree is your
poet’s tree?

Is it boab or oak
paperbark or willow?

Does it dance with Mandela
mediate with Mahatma?

Is it a haven for
Maya Angelou’s caged birds?

Does your tree sing
of how to
make a walking stick
through pain
with words to make the feet

Does it encase your feet in
shoe bark
to travel on the heated ground
of despair
through the cold of ignorance’s
help you to slide to the leaves of

How many in your poet’s family
tree went to war and
created odes to soldier’s
who bloodied lay
at the base of this tree
– lost?

Will the nightingale
sing from the branches
of your poet’s tree
guide you
into the heart of things
-take you out beyond this side
of a worm hole
into the galaxy where peace
birds fly?

What kind of tree is your
poet’s tree?

(c) June Perkins

The World is Singin’ its Blues

I’ve been working on many writing projects, but somehow my heart just wants to write a lot of peace poetry and songs – the world is in such dire straits and we are all connected and need to reach out and build a peaceful world. This seems the most urgent thing to write, dream and work for.


guitarboy2 Guitar Boy by June Perkins

The world is singin’ its blues
askin’ for a bit of time to heal
askin’ why it’s so hard to feel
that nothin’ we do is gonna make
peace be real

askin’ for a DJ who understands
the need for peace
who can give us some
musical release
to bleed out the fears
dress them in a mother’s tears

The world is ringin’ out its questions
why, oh why’s a piece of land
or your religion
something to kill or die for
and why are people so quick
to tie their fate to
those noose of hate?

askin’ for a DJ who can change the down beat
into an upbeat
bring some kind of optimism into play
dress that sorrow
in a technicolour tomorrow

The world is singin’ its blues
askin’ for a bit of time to heal
askin’ why it’s so hard to feel

View original post 16 more words

Show not tell poetry4peace


treeplanting49 Tree planting at the Gap – By June Perkins

Feeling a little heart-broken with all the despair in so many parts of the world. Time to write lots more #poetry4peace

Another bomb

another bomb fell on Gaza
and more people died

more people were feeling anxious
about flying

breakfast television said it was because
of the news and events in Ukraine

mothers and children marched
their happiness through the streets
free from Russian occupation

an Israeli soldier
was kidnapped

another bomb fell on Gaza
and more mothers cried

breakfast television said
children under 7 should not
be exposed to too much gruesome news

in the middle of the night
boat people were flown to Nauru
their lawyers were surprised

I read some poems from a prisoner of Faith
Mavash Sabet
my heart wept for her
missing the great outdoors

and smiled at her strength
and the beauty of her poetic…

View original post 62 more words

Basket of Light

Not sure if this a poem or a meditation.


In the late afternoons baskets of light weave themselves into the branches.

They catch the sun and make it into petals and stars dancing through circles.

I love to watch  for these baskets of light. Click them into my camera and hold them in an image.

If only children could climb into them away from the world’s fights.

They could beam their future, their dreams, their innocent light into the hearts of all them that are too attached to land and ideals that separate and antagonise.

Oh for the baskets of light that give the human spirit might. If only they could capture hate and ignorance and burn them away.

The sky cannot be owned. The sun cannot be captured. The light shines on all, through the baskets of light.  

(c) June Perkins, words and image.

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Handle with Care

A poem for peace



the morning news unsettles
and reminds
for many there is no luxury
to look for daily balance

only the beginning of an end

lives blasted out of the sky
children bombed on the beach
apocalyptic movies due
at the cinema soon

and on the way to when healing arrives
the places where there is the

beginning of a beginning

every moment
is now handle with care

the places where tear drops
bomb the hope just out of reach

long for the time
visions of one world
might be in the real world soon

the temporary bandages we put on things
attempted treaties delicately achieved
are never enough

when will they make way for the time
when unity might
beam its sunlight
through leaves of green
to blind the apocalypse of now?

(c) June Perkins

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