A photo a day #02.
Art off Lonsdale
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Strathbogie Ranges tracks and trails #01
Walking the Strathbogie Ranges has many rewards. The landscapes, waterways and native flora are simply beautiful.
A gallery of 10 images. To see the full photos click an image, then use the arrows to scroll.
The Muttaburrasaurus at McNish
There is also a great walking path along Stoney Creek here. You can view the Victoria Walks’ walking map I have published here: https://walkingmaps.com.au/walk/5731
Dad jokes
Dad laughs at his own jokes
children cringe and feign embarrassment
dad adds tickles and finger pokes
children claim harassment
and everyone shares miles of smiles
at table, play or from the floor
as dad persists all the while
cracking jokes more and more
"Don't encourage him!" everyone says
as dad scores another score
laughter turns into donkey brays
as belly laughs stretch the jaw
the fun settles slowly and aching cheeks
from grins as big as the moon
will be remembered for weeks and weeks
secretly,
we wish to hear more dad jokes soon
For this week’s dVerse poetics prompt Mish gave we poets licence to consider any aspect of laughter we choose. Believe it or not, sometimes I can set the house on fire with the quality and machine gun delivery of my Dad jokes. I just can’t understand why everyone present groans so much and pleads with me to stop!
Tableland Talk, September 2024
The most recent instalment of the very local Newsletter I edit for our community.
Belief
She doesn’t have faith like Jesus
But she does believe in love
she doesn’t have faith like Jesus
but she does celebrate life
she doesn’t have faith like Jesus
but she always tries to be kind
she doesn’t have faith like Jesus
but she leads a generous life
she doesn’t have faith like Jesus
but she worships nature and its gifts
she doesn’t have faith like Jesus
but she volunteers and gives a bit
she doesn’t have faith like Jesus
but she does believe in peace
she doesn’t have faith like Jesus
but she can turn the other cheek
she doesn’t have faith like Jesus
but she believes in equality for humankind
she doesn’t have faith like Jesus
but believes in freedom of speech and mind
she doesn’t have faith like Jesus
but believes in growing knowledge and skills
she doesn’t have faith like Jesus
but believes people should not kill
she doesn’t have faith like Jesus
but believes in doing good and always will
she doesn’t have faith like Jesus
but she should be honoured still
Written for the dVerse challenge from Andrew. When we take up poetic arms in any cause, we are trusting that “the pen is mightier than the sword!”
Unconvinced of spring
I am unconvinced of spring
for winter still is here
despite the dates
there’s fire in grates
and a chill wind cold and clear
no green shoots have emerged
in fact the ground is bare
not moist and soft,but hard and dry
grass brown from frost and rare
the birds are still very quiet
the animals briefly appear
the skies are heavy and silent
rain and sleet is always near
clothes are layered and warm
boots are waterproof and thick
beanies and hats are permanent
raincoats and parkas are slick
and in amongst this extension
of winter into spring
I just want to mention
this weather makes me sing
Apologies dVerse - I linked the wrong poem. Try the next one.
River #03
Where the river meets the sea
I’ll wait patiently
until your ship comes in
carrying you to my smiles
we’ll walk the miles and miles
to a place to begin again
upriver to where small streams
become the water of river dreams
where meadows grow green under
skies of sun and thunder
there we’ll settle on high ground
ever fertile and sound
we’ll labour to work the earth
and give a family birth
a family that will grow
to work together and sow
under that mantle of blue and grey
after years and many a day
we will turn to each other and say
the life we chose has been a good one
as good as the river is long
to its banks we will continue to go
hand in hand
watching the river flow
Thoughts
Like paper to the wind
my thoughts I scatter here
unable to rescind
I let them travel where
I know not what they’ll achieve
succeed with or accomplish
I fear they’ll find readers
with care only to admonish
then there is the question
why bother anyway?
so many smarter and stupider minds
have so much more to say
and louder voices
because they so often agree
to speak their thoughts
only to celebrity
a different purpose is theirs
to be heard no matter what
without the necessity
of thinking intelligently
of sharing something
of value they have got
I speak simply
of observations
of thoughts I mull over
instead
I speak of imagery
of the wonders of earth
that crowd
inside my head
Fragile
Fragile like a bubble floating gentle on a breeze
uncertain airy eddies dropping it and raising it with ease
a dip toward a branch and a child waits for it to pop
breath held eyes wide standing still mid hop
then it spirals up just before the moment
a random push to nowhere special
rescued by chance
bound only by circumstance
the brittle coloured shiny shell wafer thin and precious
we await another chance buffeting the waiting is delicious
to influence things the child waves hands and blows with her small mouth
she hopes to help it survive the ground disaster beckons from the south
her little puffs send fragile bubble in unintended directions
she watches amazed the effect she has on the subject of her affection
her will her thought her decision to act on the outcome she desires
embolden her to further acts beyond bubbles she aspires
eventually the bubble pops its streaky rainbow skin
we both sigh in satisfaction at its inevitable oily end
as it bursts in prism lit spray asunder
the fragile bubble also releases wonder
the child and I are compelled to create more of these globular gems
to see what control we can exercise what we can contrive with them
such is human life
Banksia
Feeling jaded I walked around the block on one of those particularly clean and crisp Melbourne autumn mornings
the type only Melbourne seems to have
the sun was bright and immersively warm every time you emerged from cold dark shadows
the sky was a spectacular sky blue blue blue all the way to the top
everything was precisely defined like it had been edged with the blackest finest fine liner pen
I found a banksia bud on the ground and picked it up for closer examination
nature had loaded it with deep brown lidded eyes in a repeating pattern designed to go on forever
lighter brown probosci with vivid tan tips emerged from between each eye and the nett result was glorious
awe and wonder
jaded faded
Lovers
lovers
a contradiction
the joyful anticipation of time spent together is heightened by the inevitability of separation
whether one waits for the other to arrive or the timing is perfect
buoyant hearts rush to the coming
the anticipation of separation casts a shadow over time spent together
time to dread and then watch the leaving
heavy hearts drag at the going
both will love and hate the preoccupying delirium of the in between
lovers
linger and pine long
Sun
The sun is a furnace around which we orbit. It sits in space 152 million kilometres away, providing just enough heat to keep our planet and its inhabitants alive. Every time I recognise this fact I have the same response – what are the chances? WOW!
Timbertop Saddle – Mt Timbertop summit walk (return)
This is a fantastic day walk in the Victoria High County near Mansfield. Autumn laid on a delightful smorgasbord of wildflowers and clear skies. For the full map, photos and description see my online publication here: https://walkingmaps.com.au/walk/5822
Built
Man
built over grassland
built into sky
built atop mountains
to nature defy
built into forest
built under water
built in the desert
built bricks and mortar
built with cut wood
built with the earth
never understood
non stop building is death
every built patch a carnage
every built patch an ending
every built patch a destruction of what nature would have seen
every built patch an obliteration of what nature could have been
Artificial Intelligence (AI) – be afraid
In the not too distant future
things will begin to disappear
human things
cultural things
things like genuine creative work
design, construction, music, literature, imagery, art
and
not much later
human well-being
Instead
they will be by-passed
replaced by data mined
composites
of all these things
that went before
--------------------------------
Concepts and constructs
developed by
any human individual
are exclusively
part of
the human condition:
..... human creativity
Such human
processes and creation
are
being systematically
misappropriated
for the purpose
of
profiteering
by mere replicants
for mere replication
to satisfy
uncontrolled
greed
and
aspirations
of the few
at the expense
of
the many
This application of AI
is not good for
individual human
health or well-being
This application of AI
is not good for
societal
health or well-being
This application of AI
will undermine
the survival of
human
civilisation
This is not likely
to be a road
from which humanity
can return
General Intelligence
is the next stop
Where humanity will be asked
either politely or forcibly
to get off the bus
….. walk toward the mirage
….. and disappear into it
The old bridge
This crumbling old bridge was once an entrance to the town
but these days another road goes another way around
and the old bridge isn't even a walking bridge today
as its rotten frame collapses in an advanced state of decay
I'd like to see we walkers reclaim this historic bridge and road
reimagined and rebuilt it would easily take that load
we would walk both sides of the water accessed by its span
travel both embankments knowing we safely can
return by the old bridge to where we began to roam
enjoying nature's reclaimed beauty right here by our town
Tableland Talk August 2024
Sydney classics
Sydney Harbour is a beautiful place
The water, the bridge, the ferries, the space
To love Sydney and Melbourne is no disgrace
Both cities are really to everyone's taste
Forest paths
True forest paths are not seen
but felt
it is fair to say
the engineered tracks
of man are just a gash
of impudent human display
observe the busy insects
fly passages through the air
they’ll not prop
at copse or rock
they will find their own way there
and the animals
patter many trails
with a purpose we often guess not ken
they wend their way
over hill and dale
then back home again
with nary a blight
touch the landscape so light
could we aspire to accomplish
this when
our heavy footprint
leaves such a dent
on hillside, plain and fen
such a blight
such an intrusive pity
the forest is sliced
as with so many knives
the forest is cut up as a city
Air Show #01
Flights of fantasy
flights for death
flights for transport
take away your breath
A Brumby tale
At the crack of thunder a handsome young colt took flight
down the alpine spine
he dashed and crashed through alpine scrub
until he had arrived
in the sheltered valley amongst his mob
that gave him comfort and respite
from the raging storm that crowned the mountain
turning day into night
his tremor settled as he sidled up to his grazing mother
the elder mare
she turned her head to see the sweat on his flanks
the rolling eyes of fear
she nuzzled licked and settled him
with a maternal stare
curious young Brumbies wander alone all to often
with reckless care
and all to often intelligently they navigate and interrogate
the delicate high country
strong and predator free they browse moss fields and trees
leaving only debris
as well the large wild Brumby mobs roam freely about as if
the place were theirs to own
they churn the creeks and chop the wafer thin soil
to its rocky bones
the wild horses of the Australian bush are part
of history myth and legend
but their introduced arrival on colonial fleets
often goes unmentioned
noble creatures of the northern hemisphere they cast
dark highborn shadows
across native southern habitats their hard hooves and heavy weights
disrupt natural indigenous flows
Today Dora asked we poets to write to a general prompt about horses. She included several remarkable sample poems you might like to read here https://dversepoets.com/2024/07/23/poetics-running-with-horses/ I chose to write about our local Australian wild horses, Brumbies. As an introduced species, Brumbies are controversial, both celebrated and appreciated. I hope to have developed the reasons why in my poem.
River #02
The river of love that runs through my heart
is a river that flows straight to you sweetheart
and when it comes time for me to depart
my spirits will be high as I impart
my gladness at receiving love’s joyful dart
from you
to pierce my once armoured heart
After the fires
During the fires even the soil burnt hot
Many places recover some do not
New forests grow green under dead wood thick
Skeleton forests are bone white and ground is black
Buildings of Melbourne #02
Melbourne has a rich architectural heritage. Sadly, much was lost to development in the 1970s. However, an innovative present is some consolation. I love to walk around the city taking photographs of the preserved buildings/facades of yesterday and the creative designs of today. I hope you, my reader, enjoy the view too.
poetography.ink 