(Poems written for Twitter, 140 characters max.)
1/8/09
#23
full moon & one small star/bright only lights in a blue fog/I call the light down into my wand/holding hands with Andrew & we exult
6/8/09
#24
Her smile z bright music,/her gaze z a dance/either light & vivacious/or measured & grave,/her laugh z sunlight/on a sparkling shore
20/8/09
#25
they r long, these months/of th change-over/warm & cool & mild & hot/nothing settled nothing begun/I nod off in th middle of th day
21/8/09
#26
The tide comes in/so much higher now.//How long before we must move/to higher ground – and how high?
1/9/09
#27
I’m away & far/trying not to see/how hunched he is/& heavy dark/in that small space/looking only in/at his mind onscreen/his fantasy
28/10/09
#28
dance flower/down deep air/& perfume time
20/11/09
#29
so full of grief/there’s no room left/for poetry//recollecting wounds/of early childhood
Written for twitter
30 November 2009
Tanka on Tuesday: November 2009
3/11/09
full moon ritual
a night of healing and peace
our feet on the grass
in a space between showers
two candles against the dark
10/11/09
flowers turning brown
rosebush leaning to the sun
the cactus thriving
along with the weeds and vines
spring sky darkening to rain
17/11/09
with a sudden cold
my eyes keep trying to weep
as the sun rises
I re-read my birthday cards
and note the change of season
24/11/09
at the end of Spring
leaves of introduced species
are already burnt
browning from tips and edges
and dead palm fronds keep crashing
only the rosebush
pruned and neat in its small pot
stays green and hardy
like the native vines and weeds
and the up-thrusting cacti
29/11/09
a thunderous spring
the hot winds stripping the leaves
like a new autumn –
sudden news from far away
and I weep for a young death
full moon ritual
a night of healing and peace
our feet on the grass
in a space between showers
two candles against the dark
10/11/09
flowers turning brown
rosebush leaning to the sun
the cactus thriving
along with the weeds and vines
spring sky darkening to rain
17/11/09
with a sudden cold
my eyes keep trying to weep
as the sun rises
I re-read my birthday cards
and note the change of season
24/11/09
at the end of Spring
leaves of introduced species
are already burnt
browning from tips and edges
and dead palm fronds keep crashing
only the rosebush
pruned and neat in its small pot
stays green and hardy
like the native vines and weeds
and the up-thrusting cacti
29/11/09
a thunderous spring
the hot winds stripping the leaves
like a new autumn –
sudden news from far away
and I weep for a young death
During these Spring rains: haiku for November 2009
6/11/09
a thunder crack
right above the house
the cats run
8/11/09
I remember autumn
its warm blue skies
during these Spring rains
13/11/09
dust
coming over the mountain
the sky chills
20/11/09
soft grey sky
scent of jasmine
after rain
27/11/09
in rising heat
green weeds I failed to uproot
expand
a thunder crack
right above the house
the cats run
8/11/09
I remember autumn
its warm blue skies
during these Spring rains
13/11/09
dust
coming over the mountain
the sky chills
20/11/09
soft grey sky
scent of jasmine
after rain
27/11/09
in rising heat
green weeds I failed to uproot
expand
3 November 2009
Views
He showed me how to swing a hammer, the right grip in the right place on the handle. I thank him again in my mind, every time I hammer a nail or a tent peg in. It must have been 1992; then he was twenty-three.
He was fifteen the time I turned from outfacing an abusive tradesman on the doorstep, and found him right behind me, ready in case I needed help.
After my huge, beautiful dog died, he channelled him for me one night on the phone. It was unexpected and a strain, but he stuck with it. I don’t know if that ever happened for him again. The message was good, and true. I was grateful.
He was just a kid, maybe ten, that night when his dad was away. He heard footsteps, furtive, down the path next to the house. A torch flashed briefly outside his bedroom window. “Dad!” he yelled, thinking fast (more deterrent than “Mum!”). I switched on lights and stomped loudly. The intruder ran. We heard him scrabble over the back fence, just as sudden rain came pelting, drenching down.
I remember him walking with me to the shops, chatting of this and that, nearly as tall as I was, casually hand in hand; how happy it made me feel.
Broader and taller by inches, coming off the plane after his student months in New York State. A cowboy hat and an Indian feather – a great honour, he said. His brother and two of his mates bursting in later on his jetlag sleep, grinning. “G’day, Yank!”
He finished renovating his father’s house after his father died. He went to Pam’s house too, to complete what his dad started there to help our friends. That didn’t last; he got kicked out. Gets kicked out of lots of places – even, at last, mine.
Visited his cousin Ellie last time he was home, and his Uncle Robert, the brother his father disliked. Both were glad; needed that family feeling he gave them then, so he said. Maybe he needed it too.
Adventurous always, on our journey towards Ayers Rock he declared, “I’m a born mountain climber.” He was eight; we smiled. He was a born mountain climber – soon out of sight of the rest of us struggling towards the top. He ran up the Rock! No use worrying for his safety; it was out of my hands.
Now too, his fate is out of my hands. He is moving, he says, towards his own truth, his own discovery of love. The final repudiation of Mother, the final claiming of self. So mote it be.
19/10-3/11/09
He was fifteen the time I turned from outfacing an abusive tradesman on the doorstep, and found him right behind me, ready in case I needed help.
After my huge, beautiful dog died, he channelled him for me one night on the phone. It was unexpected and a strain, but he stuck with it. I don’t know if that ever happened for him again. The message was good, and true. I was grateful.
He was just a kid, maybe ten, that night when his dad was away. He heard footsteps, furtive, down the path next to the house. A torch flashed briefly outside his bedroom window. “Dad!” he yelled, thinking fast (more deterrent than “Mum!”). I switched on lights and stomped loudly. The intruder ran. We heard him scrabble over the back fence, just as sudden rain came pelting, drenching down.
I remember him walking with me to the shops, chatting of this and that, nearly as tall as I was, casually hand in hand; how happy it made me feel.
Broader and taller by inches, coming off the plane after his student months in New York State. A cowboy hat and an Indian feather – a great honour, he said. His brother and two of his mates bursting in later on his jetlag sleep, grinning. “G’day, Yank!”
He finished renovating his father’s house after his father died. He went to Pam’s house too, to complete what his dad started there to help our friends. That didn’t last; he got kicked out. Gets kicked out of lots of places – even, at last, mine.
Visited his cousin Ellie last time he was home, and his Uncle Robert, the brother his father disliked. Both were glad; needed that family feeling he gave them then, so he said. Maybe he needed it too.
Adventurous always, on our journey towards Ayers Rock he declared, “I’m a born mountain climber.” He was eight; we smiled. He was a born mountain climber – soon out of sight of the rest of us struggling towards the top. He ran up the Rock! No use worrying for his safety; it was out of my hands.
Now too, his fate is out of my hands. He is moving, he says, towards his own truth, his own discovery of love. The final repudiation of Mother, the final claiming of self. So mote it be.
19/10-3/11/09
Fresh raspberries: haiku for October 2009
2/10/09
fresh raspberries
the taste and texture
of my childhood
3/10/09
on the train track
stems, leaves and berries
rain-washed
9/10/09
sudden lilies bloom
in my afternoon garden
unseen this morning
****************
Photo of Kerouac
hugging his cat
how domestic he looks
this road poet
**************
Melbourne rain
going cold to my bones
recollected
14/10/09
abandon yourself
it’s all in the letting go
freedom and passion
*****************
sprawling on the bed
my cat is relaxed in sleep:
utter abandon
23/10/09
I carry with me
as mirror and barrier
her faraway gaze
30/10/09
across rainy dark
the whispers of the ocean
sound right in my house
31/10/09
tonight cicadas
and the smell of coming rain
heat builds to pressure
tomorrow morning
a renewal of sunlight
the blessing of trees
fresh raspberries
the taste and texture
of my childhood
3/10/09
on the train track
stems, leaves and berries
rain-washed
9/10/09
sudden lilies bloom
in my afternoon garden
unseen this morning
****************
Photo of Kerouac
hugging his cat
how domestic he looks
this road poet
**************
Melbourne rain
going cold to my bones
recollected
14/10/09
abandon yourself
it’s all in the letting go
freedom and passion
*****************
sprawling on the bed
my cat is relaxed in sleep:
utter abandon
23/10/09
I carry with me
as mirror and barrier
her faraway gaze
30/10/09
across rainy dark
the whispers of the ocean
sound right in my house
31/10/09
tonight cicadas
and the smell of coming rain
heat builds to pressure
tomorrow morning
a renewal of sunlight
the blessing of trees
Tanka on Tuesday: October 2009
4/10/09
dragonfly's wings flap
causing storms across the world
they'd have us believe
internet's even faster
is this chaos or theory?
6/10/09
warm day already
the grey cat curled on my bed
stretches out purring
I decide to stay longer
stroke her and open my book
13/10/09
From the low vantage
above the storm-damaged beach
the sea, my old love,
lately appears unfriendly
surging in rougher, closer.
**********************
Orion
The sky warrior’s
belt and sword are clear to see
turned upside-down –
the friendly southern image
a domestic cooking pot.
14/10/09 See Climate Change Tanka (previous post)
20/10/09
Those smiling snapshots
chubby tot, eager young man
are from long ago.
Now he glowers from photos.
The child in my mind is gone.
27/10/09
after the thunder
a return to calm sunlight
I’m dazed and blinking
thinking of a troubled man
who may never find such peace
dragonfly's wings flap
causing storms across the world
they'd have us believe
internet's even faster
is this chaos or theory?
6/10/09
warm day already
the grey cat curled on my bed
stretches out purring
I decide to stay longer
stroke her and open my book
13/10/09
From the low vantage
above the storm-damaged beach
the sea, my old love,
lately appears unfriendly
surging in rougher, closer.
**********************
Orion
The sky warrior’s
belt and sword are clear to see
turned upside-down –
the friendly southern image
a domestic cooking pot.
14/10/09 See Climate Change Tanka (previous post)
20/10/09
Those smiling snapshots
chubby tot, eager young man
are from long ago.
Now he glowers from photos.
The child in my mind is gone.
27/10/09
after the thunder
a return to calm sunlight
I’m dazed and blinking
thinking of a troubled man
who may never find such peace
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