(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
15 October 2009
Climate Change Haiku
(In conjunction with Blog Action Day, October 15)
keep burning forests
spilling chemicals in sea:
abandon the earth
******************
windy day again
and the dust filling the sky
stings inside my throat
*******************
washed the car windows
two days later scrawls of red dust
fall out of the air
keep burning forests
spilling chemicals in sea:
abandon the earth
******************
windy day again
and the dust filling the sky
stings inside my throat
*******************
washed the car windows
two days later scrawls of red dust
fall out of the air
Climate Change Tanka
(Reposted from Tanka on Tuesday, for Blog Action Day)
From the low vantage
above the storm-damaged beach
the sea, my old love,
lately appears unfriendly
surging in rougher, closer.
*************************
And two from my side of a debate in verse with a friend who says global warming is false, the earth's been cooling since 1998, and it's a ploy to raise global taxes for the New World Order:
Here in my country
recent years have exceeded
1998
with greater extremes of heat –
but I don't know what this proves.
Warming or cooling,
new world order or new tax,
on this we agree:
our politicians' motives
are seldom to be trusted.
From the low vantage
above the storm-damaged beach
the sea, my old love,
lately appears unfriendly
surging in rougher, closer.
*************************
And two from my side of a debate in verse with a friend who says global warming is false, the earth's been cooling since 1998, and it's a ploy to raise global taxes for the New World Order:
Here in my country
recent years have exceeded
1998
with greater extremes of heat –
but I don't know what this proves.
Warming or cooling,
new world order or new tax,
on this we agree:
our politicians' motives
are seldom to be trusted.
1 October 2009
Dark sky: haiku for September 2009
1/9/09
A dark sky;
here and there
clouds thicken
*****************
Listen – next door’s violent music.
Earlier a walk by the peaceful creek.
Now the day turns dark.
(word count haiku)
4/9/09
Repco Rally Australia
Police and firemen
all over town: car rally
supposed to be fun.
The birds are restless.
Both coucal and brush turkey
rush about madly.
Painted, numbered cars
arrive for days of roaring
through fragile wetlands.
11/9/09
September sunshine.
From the dull bromeliads
red leaves, purple blooms.
***************************
9/11
No-one can forget
that horror already old
and forever new
so I turn my head
focus in on my garden
small fragment of peace
18/9/09
a bright fresh morning
the creeper climbing the palm
has shiny new leaves
*****************
golden girl Mary
leaves Peter Paul and us all
departing solo
25/9/09
a sky full of dust
thickening in the nostrils
and nowhere to run
26/9/09
dust returned today
less red, less thick, less fearful
we grow accustomed
A dark sky;
here and there
clouds thicken
*****************
Listen – next door’s violent music.
Earlier a walk by the peaceful creek.
Now the day turns dark.
(word count haiku)
4/9/09
Repco Rally Australia
Police and firemen
all over town: car rally
supposed to be fun.
The birds are restless.
Both coucal and brush turkey
rush about madly.
Painted, numbered cars
arrive for days of roaring
through fragile wetlands.
11/9/09
September sunshine.
From the dull bromeliads
red leaves, purple blooms.
***************************
9/11
No-one can forget
that horror already old
and forever new
so I turn my head
focus in on my garden
small fragment of peace
18/9/09
a bright fresh morning
the creeper climbing the palm
has shiny new leaves
*****************
golden girl Mary
leaves Peter Paul and us all
departing solo
25/9/09
a sky full of dust
thickening in the nostrils
and nowhere to run
26/9/09
dust returned today
less red, less thick, less fearful
we grow accustomed
Tanka on Tuesday: September 2009
Reposted from MySpace
1/9/09
First of September.
A voice in my dream cries “Wake!”
A dead branch hits the garden
fallen from the palm,
flagging another summer
littered with falling branches.
***************************
sleeping underground
is the safest for wombats
we pray they don’t try
a path across the highway
and turn up their toes, skittled
8/9/09
Close, he looks nervous;
closer, secretly amused.
My smile looks happy,
reflections obscure my eyes.
Body language? We look close!
(See here.)
15/9/09
in September sun
as new leaves and buds glisten
my friend telephones
her dying father’s lucid
they have had a lovely day
22/9/09
it’s Spring Equinox
here in the South of the world
a time of balance
between the light and the dark
then new life starts as light grows
*************************
sunshine and thunder
wind and the smell of new rain
from a warm blue sky
and the blind vine thrusting up
seeking light and sustenance
***********************
only three this year
gathering for Eostre
from the old coven
lighting the wishing candle
surrounded by Archangels
Stormbringer, LightStar
and DragonStar (Queen of Wands)
joined hands round the light
and remembered the others
feeling their spirits present
a sky high and blue
a spreading mulberry tree
dripping with ripe fruit
our hands stained with juice like blood
symbol of death and bright life
24/9/09
TELL THAT TO THE MALDIVES
A response to a friend who claimed climate change is a lie,
as rivers pouring into the sea don’t cause its level to rise.
There is a balance.
Rivers and rain enter, then
evaporation.
But when icebergs keep melting
small Pacific islands drown.
**********************
A fresh Spring morning
yesterday’s choking dust cloud
vanished from this coast –
to infiltrate the ocean
or arrive in New Zealand?
29/9/09
with sunshine outside
long hours at my computer
it’s my life story
before computers long hours
thumping my old typewriter
1/9/09
First of September.
A voice in my dream cries “Wake!”
A dead branch hits the garden
fallen from the palm,
flagging another summer
littered with falling branches.
***************************
sleeping underground
is the safest for wombats
we pray they don’t try
a path across the highway
and turn up their toes, skittled
8/9/09
Close, he looks nervous;
closer, secretly amused.
My smile looks happy,
reflections obscure my eyes.
Body language? We look close!
(See here.)
15/9/09
in September sun
as new leaves and buds glisten
my friend telephones
her dying father’s lucid
they have had a lovely day
22/9/09
it’s Spring Equinox
here in the South of the world
a time of balance
between the light and the dark
then new life starts as light grows
*************************
sunshine and thunder
wind and the smell of new rain
from a warm blue sky
and the blind vine thrusting up
seeking light and sustenance
***********************
only three this year
gathering for Eostre
from the old coven
lighting the wishing candle
surrounded by Archangels
Stormbringer, LightStar
and DragonStar (Queen of Wands)
joined hands round the light
and remembered the others
feeling their spirits present
a sky high and blue
a spreading mulberry tree
dripping with ripe fruit
our hands stained with juice like blood
symbol of death and bright life
24/9/09
TELL THAT TO THE MALDIVES
A response to a friend who claimed climate change is a lie,
as rivers pouring into the sea don’t cause its level to rise.
There is a balance.
Rivers and rain enter, then
evaporation.
But when icebergs keep melting
small Pacific islands drown.
**********************
A fresh Spring morning
yesterday’s choking dust cloud
vanished from this coast –
to infiltrate the ocean
or arrive in New Zealand?
29/9/09
with sunshine outside
long hours at my computer
it’s my life story
before computers long hours
thumping my old typewriter
Sevenling (Orchids and clover)
30 Poems in 30 Days: Day 30
Write a poem about the end of something.
You can find out about sevenlings here.
Orchids and clover hung from pots
on the outside wall of his house,
and that strange white night-blooming flower.
The stars were out, shining clearly,
and moonlight vied with lamplight,
illuminating his hanging garden faintly.…
When he moved away, he took not one plant.
Write a poem about the end of something.
You can find out about sevenlings here.
Orchids and clover hung from pots
on the outside wall of his house,
and that strange white night-blooming flower.
The stars were out, shining clearly,
and moonlight vied with lamplight,
illuminating his hanging garden faintly.…
When he moved away, he took not one plant.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)