A shimmering emerald light I saw aloft
in afternoon’s glow a flickering on and off
with twisting turns it flashed colour at me
I transfixed watched closely to see
windy flutterings of swamp gum leaves
on one branch hung these sunlight thieves
eucalyptus greens greys and blues they waved
their pretty dance to me they gave
I looked at you
you looked at me
I looked back again
I sensed that you were asking if I was your friend?
without Alpaca words to say so, I decided to move on
I enjoyed our time together but there were other things to be done
F35 jets
for billions of dollars
deliver on death
F35 jet
deadly grace and fire power
foe to nature's set
F35 jet
redundant high tech fighter
or required asset
It's the last days of summer
and the water still looks great
for the last days of swimming
before the hot weather fades
Said she I’ll follow the sun
and when the following is done
I will have my release
Said he I’ll wait for you
and when the waiting is done
together we’ll find peace
She followed the sun
and followed the sun
never finding the end of her quest
He watched the horizon
every day of the week
every evening again dispossessed
The sun never shirked
its purpose lighting the day
rising and setting as it should
This man and this woman
staked their futures on the sun
but it’s purpose they never understood
What can you say our young assertive one
with the voice of an innocent and every reason to come
to the land of the people with the frozen tongues
did you hear the voices trapped in the throats of the speakers
the truthsayers the protesters the dumb and the seekers
what will you say my naive one
as a voice for the reticent who want to save their home
where no voices are heard and no listening is done
did you crack the blank shields of the riot police abashing
when your truth and your statements of the obvious were clashing
with the public dialogue of denial that’s in fashion
what do you now see my prescient soul
a world that is scared yet loudly condemning your role
contradiction abounds around what’s believed and is told
but you won’t close your mind your mouth or be controlled
because the need is the need of a world being sold
where ascendant rejections of science’s findings
carry weight disproportionate to tomorrow’s unwinding
and the hope that was youth falls to systemic undermining
I hope that you stand up to the relentless grinding
for across the world there are still people who need you
to attack all the arguments of denial so feeble
they still rise to smother the planet in chaos and evil
but for your pluck and your courage your ability to needle
it does provide a check with words that are real
and challenges others to rise too and reveal
the lies and deception the denialists conceal
I hope and I wish you can change how they feel
what will you say next our young assertive one
If you didn't pick it up the rhythm is sort of set to Bob Dylan's A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall
Where did that government find such murderous intent
imprisoning and shooting their own wherever they went
exercising ruthless summary force
while advising its citizens they have no choice
venomous lies from forked tongues they let rip
their smirking mouths toxic with poisonous lips
vile spittle sprayed from the lips of autocracy
blurs the vision of the masses with talk of democracy
all the while weaponising the rule of law
where justice is now held in the tight grip of a claw
a new dark age is coming where information is missed
where manipulated voters are swayed by each Judas kiss
I will die of thirst
ever a want of knowing
that everywhere and elsewhere
rivers of knowledge are flowing
I will die of thirst
where enlightenment cannot be found
confined to low dry stoney ground
fully aware that above me
clear and sparkling
mountain streams abound
I will die of thirst
of missed opportunity
from the Afghan rivers I happen to see
ignorance spikes their fresh waters
their learning journeys are lost to me
while here the wells of education
I would plumb are dry
my parched mouth speaks dumb
to a vacant sky
my brain a withering interpreter
blank of effective words
and to such deficits I must succumb
never listened to nor heard
my thirst for comprehension
always unslaked uncured
I tell you what is worst
slowly I die of lack of knowledge
cursed by this relentless thirst
On any given day
the water might be blue or grey
when it is grey my mood is somber
the heavy clouds I watch and ponder
but with breaking sunshine my spirits lift
enchanting me such a precious gift
changing my mood to a brighter hue
while turning the water the sweetest blue
Dearest Wife,
Ah, that is not exactly what I mean, how I meant to start. I mean you are my dearest Wife, but not the dearest of Wives amongst many other Wives that I have clamouring for my attention. No, no, there are no other Wives clamouring for my attention. I was just trying to make the point there could be dozens, even hundreds of Wives banging at my door but you would be the only one I would be looking for.
You are the only woman for me. Ah, I don't mean exclusively. Yes, there are other women in my life. Our daughter, my sisters for instance. Oh and your sisters of course. And then there is your mother and my stepmother and we have mutual womanly friends and ..... oooooh dear, what I am trying to say is that you are the only woman with whom I want to be associated intimately.
That is stating it fair and square, hits the nail on the head so to speak, glad I got there and have stated it unequivocally.
Oh dear, yes I mean you dear. My dear, my dearest. I dearly want to tell you, to explain, to you, to say absolutely and without doubt you are the one I was always looking for.
And I found you. Hmmm, possibly, it would be more accurate to say we found each other. Well, really, it was just a happy coincidence. Me finding you, you finding me. What does it matter? Not that I am saying it doesn't matter! All I am saying is who found whom is not important.
What is important is that we found each other and didn't leave it at that. We made it happen that we met again to become lovers, partners, friends and 45 years later we are still together. 45 years of loving happy days, of a life well lived in each other's company, of trust and confidence in each other, of a deep knowing that we will be together until the end.
I still delight in time spent with you.
Together or apart you are always in my heart.
Your dearest husband, of course by that I mean....., oh shit, pause, reset, rethink, be mindful, take a moment, keep it simple.
I have always loved you, I love you still and always will.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Sanaa provided this week’s dVerse poetics prompts. I selected No. 2 Love Letters Through Time: Write a poem in the form of a love letter. It can be addressed to yourself, to someone special and/or in memory of a person who has passed. I chose to write from the perspective of an incompetent romantic.
No one could say why they were there
the brigades the battalions and some
in neat formed lines in neat clean uniforms they had come
they marched on the parade grounds and through the big cities
they trained in the fields out front of towns
they ran through the wires to get to their goals
they fell to the mud all mown down
and their neat uniforms were ragged and torn
their clean faces running with blood
the muck of the battlefield filled their boots and their minds
their assault waves were a simple flood
the pretending of training faded from view
as their numbers fell to the few
the bulllets and shrapnel stopped forward forays
as they scrambled to avoid injury or death every day
as they cried and they died under the sun
until there were none
Laughing from the rooftops
the gargoyles showed their contempt
for everything and everybody
who underneath them went
they giggled at the minister
they chuckled at the police
they split their sides at you
they saw kids as light relief
I wondered at what had tickled them
to so humoured be
when everything at which they laughed
was everything they could see
What do saints mean to me?
a martyr regardless of victory
an angel from heaven found on earth
sent for secret religious work
a pietist of this earth born
alone in piety oft forlorn
a glorified soul for reasons uncertain
purpose obscured behind glorious curtain
or a loved one supporting home and hearth
trusted reliable always steadfast
a good person who generally tries hard
from heaven no guarantee not to be barred
What is this this thing called art
this thing I feel smell touch hear see
before me
this mode for the senses to draw upon
this code for the mind to interpret
what is this connection
this very personal yet cultural experience
where is traditional what is contemporary
what is permanent what is temporary
which aspect is simply material
which is internally enhanced
in response to which parts do you remain static
to which do you dance
testament contribution idea retribution
dora’s idea is redistribution
so
let’s make anything into something called art
let’s see if I can do my part
I take an image
something plain as a floor
but it’s where I take it from
that makes it more
I climb stairs I scope and review
until I find just the place that will do
and the floor is no longer just a floor anymore
but a creative rendering of space comes to the fore
this is art
This week Dora challenged we dVerse poets to take something familiar and reimagine it in some way.
Vibrant skirts
colourless skirts
skirts that are static
skirts that swish around
skirts of various
lengths from the ground
skirts of pleats
skirts flat and plain
skirts to flatter
or hide weight gain
skirts attract
skirts distract
skirts that look different
from front and back
skirts with buttons
skirts with zips
skirts crisp and new
skirts with fashionable rips
skirts concealing
skirts revealing
skirts that are practical
skirts adaptable
skirts no name
skirts expensive
skirts that are cheap
skirts destined for landfill
or the rag bag heap
skirts with patterns
or random display
skirts for work
skirts for play
for all the skirts
in the world today
I simply say
hip hip hooray
I hope there isn’t anyone out there offended by this simple bit of new nonsense today. The way things are I guess there will be. Oh well.
Once I had one hundred pairs of shoes
so many shoes I didn’t know what to do with them all
How could I be fair to every pair?
I wore them in I wore them out
I wore them everywhere and all about
I put them on I took them off
I cleaned them and I watched them scuff
I kept them in the wardrobe I kept them on the floor
I looked at new pairs in shoe shops always buying more
I watched over them in case they walked out on me
although that would be quite a shock to see
I wondered how to share the wear
for so many shoes I’d bought with care
I wore them in evens I wore the odds
I racked them up and hung them from rods
I couldn’t work out how to be fair
to give each two an outing same as every other pair
so I put them in a line and started at one end
each day I would wear the next pair I did intend
the days wore on the line grew around the house
I walked in socks to each next pair quiet as a mouse
eventually I reached the very end
at which point I must myself defend
I came late to realising shoes have no brains
or feelings so there were no gains
from my actions bold and unreserved
my treatment of them was undeserved
I thought I would try a nonsense poem for a change.
This river of mud
it comes to no good
when it spreads on the plains
or surges through the woods
when it rises in the towns
or breaks dams where it would
this river of mud
is never any good
they throw the mud
they make the mud stick
weather
whether there is mud to throw
splattered thin or cement thick
and I see the mud
it makes me feel sick
a vitriolic flood
of slander and lies
sinking reasonable opposition
no due process applies
I write forwards
you write back
you tell me where we have been
where we should be
I write of where I’m going to be
and you are not a character in that book
She pierces me
with sharpened steel
and twists the bloody bayonet
I push away to escape with my life
I spin I thrash I turn and writhe
such familiar pain I feel
when once again my wife
confused demented lashes out
with her disorientated knife
I was beckoned by the land
it called me from the brutal sea
the land fictitious
beckoning me
was not real
I now see
and that is how
the brutal sea
drowned me
There is a crack in heaven and the people are falling out
back to earth they fall
governments don’t know what to do with them
there are so many of them
generations of ancestors now displaced
refugees from perfection
returned to their ruined point of origin
bewildered bemused angry and ofttimes bewitched
I read in the news that camps are being set up
the people from heaven are objecting
they expect more
better food drink accomodation and entertainment
they certainly don’t expect to have to work or pay for anything
they say they have done their time
if they get distressed or sick they are looking for health care benefits
what is wrong with these people?
It is so hot I can barely stand it
they say this is the future come early
I can’t stand the idea of the future coming early
how is that possible?
surely the future has to come when it is due and not before
in its own good time if you will
but the future has come early and I am so fucking hot I feel like I am cooking
I feel like everything I touch is either a hot plate or cooking on one
I feel like the sweat I am dripping is not sweat it is boiling water
and I want to scold the future for coming early because I don’t know what that means but here it is in the present and there is no relief from it
I want to get a big soaking brush and watercolour the sun from the sky
I want to replace it with pile upon pile of towering thick grey cumulonimbus
heavy with precipitation weighty blackening the sky and ready to dump
I just want it to rain
big fat wet drops that land with a splat and each single drop soaks everything it hits
rain so thick if you try to run away from it you just get wetter and wetter
it simply hits you harder and reaches deeper into your soul
I so want to run in that rain
all I think about is getting away from this fiery dry heat by getting all soaking wet
cooling until I shiver to my core with cold relief
to a place where I can confront the profound desolation this false future brings
the rain will put the future back in its place
take its toll on this deceitful future of scorching isolation divergent from its proper path
giving me a new wet future where I can cool off for a while
where I can relax and think about other things
I would lap up the true future
the moist green rain dominated future
it’s not like I don’t want any heat
it should just be intermittent again, when and where it is meant to be
I want us to all have a right future properly in its place
making it easy to breathe without fire in your lungs
wet enough to have us splashing wildly outside free from fear
rejoicing in the joy of life and secure in what is to come
I want everyone to dance with me in the rain
shake off this febrile oppression
and share my love in the rain
Let’s go for a picnic and a swim at Polly McQuinn’s
we’ll pack a basket of food and some cold drinks
I’ll get the picnic rug and the Esky
we can spread out on this long hot lazy afternoon
under the tall peppermints and swamp gums
by the cool soothing brown water of the swimming hole
we can lounge in the shade all day if we want too
maybe you will want to take some sun in your bathers for a spell
before a refreshing plunge into that oasis below the weir
I’ll watch you, admire and love you the whole while
I’ll reflect on where we are going and where we have been
I will even venture in for a swim with you
because this moment in this water will change everything
when I meet you in the slow eddies
embrace you forehead to forehead nose to nose shoulder to shoulder chest to chest hip to hip
our legs gently treading water together
rotating us blissfully so full of each other we could burst
I will tell you I want to marry you
I will ask you to marry me
and I will softly kiss the earthy water from your lips until I hear your reply
Sunrise and the clouds are silver, gold, pink or the brightest of whites
they promise new beginnings and I believe them
I say goodbye to the night
and the day is full of all that might be
sun fringed clouds speak of good fortune and hope
when I raise my eyes to see them things start looking up
silver linings
dark clouds rising are mysterious and foreboding
what danger is imminent?
how will it affect me?
I become watchful
ah, today black clouds shadow my father's angry face
it’s time to make myself scarce
there is no doubt about the turbulence ahead
for mother and me it’s time to flee the storm to come
I am grateful
the clouds have lifted from our little home
the windows and doors are open
fresh air has once again surged through and purged too
my little window looks to the sky
there are omens in the various shapes passing by
I watch them, they guide me
to more thoughts of what is to come by and by
Here jewell like beads of water hang from grassy stems
the crystal clear worlds inside each reflect a world less clear on the outside
shiny bright surfaces glisten and sparkle with the captured light of morning
here in perfect symmetry each luminous pearl is delicately balanced
suspended flawless and oblivious of the future
pulled by gravity against the surface tension of a liquid sphere
each represents one of millions or billions across this mist dusted field
here a landscape is bejewelled
a scene elemental as the water of which it is composed
rich as every jewel that composes it
here natural beauty on a tiny scale is the very essence of pleasure en masse
poetography.ink 