I'm linking this to Midweek Motif ~ Nostalgia at Poets United
These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.
22 February 2017
I'm linking this to Midweek Motif ~ Nostalgia at Poets United
21 February 2017
Feb 15 Returning to
the further from it I get the more I return to my past
returning to the place after long absence home is gone
I return in memory yesterday becomes today
I return to poetry always my first love
Feb. 16 Nature (something you can see right now)
among tall eucalypts dream-catcher workshop
frangipani in her hair / timber walking-stick
hilltop – leaves against the circle of sky
magpie picking at the grass red roses
miniature roses taller than planned
staghorn on bare trunk one chopped branch
Feb. 17 Moon
moonlight and ocean a girl walking in a blue dress
full moon above only one streetlight
full moon behind cloud leaks light around edges
who needs dreams? full moon in my window
keeping pace with our car harvest moon rolls long horizon
Feb. 18 Nature (experienced in another season)
winter street swirling leaves in dusty gutters
birds crowd my veranda rail spring rains
rain sets in – bedraggled birds shriek at my cat
my spring lawn – clover dandelion ibis feathers
garden after rain flourishing green weeds
autumn dusk dogs and children play in the street
early autumn more weeks between lawn-mowings
Feb. 19 Cherry blossom
old love letters falling cherry blossom
heat wave I remember cherry blossom
blossom-fall a change in the weather
white cherry blossoms I recall the tang of red juice
pale cherry blossom far away
throngs of blossoming cherries crowding cameras
cherry blossom hide the photo
Feb. 20 Nature (unique and seasonal to where I live)
late summer frangipani blooms thinning
later and later the cool breeze of evening
sunny early morning crisp mountain edges
midday the hot town empties
Feb. 21 Falling
19 February 2017
and a dreamer who likes to be
near trees and water, somewhere
the stars too are visible at night
away from the glare of the city,
away from the ceaseless noise
and the difficulty of breathing. That's why
the moon always gazes so long in your window.
... And it all came to pass as foretold.
Thereby I know the moon loves me.
Written for And the Moon ~ Micro Poetry at 'imaginary garden with real toads'
17 February 2017
and so I am careful not to blow on the sparks
with my own (foreign) rhetoric – or not too much.
It may well start with civil disobedience. I see
on facebook many friends’ anguished posts
and proud commitment to not shutting up
in the face of what they view as tyranny.
While others are bemused and then enraged
by such refusal to accept an election result.
I’m shutting up like mad, myself, not to offend
people I’ve always known as fair and kind
and, it goes without saying, intelligent …
nor yet to encourage others in divisiveness.
For who’d want civil war? Or do they not believe
it could really come to that? Everything else has come.
The parallels with Hitler and the rise of Naziism
are often drawn by the fearful and outraged.
And I recall, reluctantly, what has long been said:
it was the averted eyes and the silence
of ordinary, good people that allowed
horror to pile on horror, corpse on corpse.
I don’t live there, I tell myself. I cannot comment
on things that don’t concern me. I can’t know
the on-the-ground reality. I do not have the right.
Then, feeling a little sick, I begin to remember
that what stopped Hitler was the linked arms
of other nations standing firm and fighting.
There will be war, I hear it said, between
Australia and the USA, or even between the USA
and the world. Surely not possible! Surely not?
I put my head down, zip my lips; I hope it will all
go away. But poems will out, irrepressible as truth.
(Poor helpless things, both: changing nothing.)
Linked to Poets United's Poetry Pantry #341
16 February 2017
rain falls on your long absence I don't forget
heat-wave my ardour increases
that café we used to like closes – cloudy day
the sun in the photo shines on your face – forever
you offer your heart – the taste of chocolate
remembering our first time you brought roses
Written for NaHaiWriMo 2017
Linking to Tuesday Platform 21 Feb 2017 at 'imaginary garden with real toads'
15 February 2017
who gave me this ring.
Yes, he does come with me shopping
(invisibly) saying, 'Get yourself roses,’
or, ‘That’d look good on you.’
This time I went on my own
deliberately; browsed, chose,
and bought me
a self-love token.
Also linked to Tuesday Platform 14 Feb 2017 at 'imaginary garden with real toads'
and to Midweek Motif: Love at Poets United.
14 February 2017
Feb 8 Open
door opened after the heat – fine invisible rain
not open-minded so much as blank no haiku
stinking hot neighbour swears through open window
Feb 9 A mirror
I hold the mirror to the light - all flash no image
when that car in the next lane vanishes from your mirrors
Feb 10 Wiped
saw him off with a kiss closed the door wiped her mouth
wiped the mirror – her mother still stared back
Feb 11 Clean
clean desk – sign of an empty mind?
cleans the wall – fingerprints scrabbling to get into Mexico
dead spider – no insects in this clean house
rain-cleaned air – humidity restores sticky skin
Feb 12 It (use the word but don't say what ‘it’ is)
it rises we gasp perspire seek cold water
momentary breeze it falls white to the grass
is it a bird is it a plane, no it's ... too high to tell
Feb 13 Is (use this specific word in your poem, but try to be wary of introducing too much judgment into the poem)
weeks of over 40C global warming is
Goddess Isis is (not terrorISt)
February 14 A way (of)
small bright feather blows towards me away
finding a way into my closed yard – water dragon
cat under table a way of controlling thunder
Link: NaHaiWriMo on facebook
12 February 2017
At Poets United this week I am sharing a feature about a project by American poet and interactive artist Natasha Marin, which captured my imagination.
It is called Red Lineage. You can find out about it here, and also read her own poem which began it all. You can experience other people's contributions, both at that page and here, and you can participate yourself here. (Go to the "Explore' drop-down menu and select +Add Your Lineage.)
I wrote this Red Lineage poem some weeks ago, when I first came across the site:
My name is Redrose.
My mother's name is Soft Red.
My father's name is Lively Red.
I come from a people known for loving words.
(The ambiguity in the second-last line is intentional.)
Today I returned and found that she has added more spaces for us to write into, more possibilities to explore – so I created this one and participated again:
My name is Witchpoet Red.
My mother’s name is Fearful Red.
My father’s name is Remorseful Red.
I come from a people who are known for
adoration of language and delight in Nature.
After I go, I will leave my words scattered
like feathers, which may be found and kept
or be reabsorbed back into the earth.
(I have broken the longest lines of this into shorter ones. It seemed right to make the verse breaks, too.)
If you decide to participate, please enter your poems at the site; and if you post them to your blog, please link to the site.
(My rose photos are to illustrate my first piece. I like photographing roses and sharing the photos on facebook with wishes for love, peace and joy for all.)