Sleep baby sleep
my tears of joy come
watching over you I weep
my precious dependent one
and when you’re older
I will seek
to be your friend
when independence distances you
from the parent who will love you
til the end
sleep baby sleep
I know we will part
but this part of me
will always be
your piece of my heart
The silver mists of Golden Mountain
obscure the ranging view
but create a tableau different and good
of ghosts, and flitting wood nymphs too?
when wallabies thump their way through the wood
it sounds like tree fellers of the past
they appear in swirls of misty pearls
then disappear just as fast
the deep forest loses depth
the towering forest loses height
and still the height and depth of it
is perceived as majesty and might
spectre trees and bracken fern
emerge and fade as shades
the mid story of denser shrubs
thickens, then lightens as glades
above in the lofts of the tree tops
lost in a murky crown
the creak of Gang Gangs evokes a haunted house
as the mist keeps coming down
heavy with moisture grey as lead
the weight of water settles
it drips from every frond and leaf
and jewels the risen nettles
muffled by its soft grey cloak
hushed by its thick grey mantle
awaiting the sun
is forest
under fractal lintel
the chill of it penetrates
every thermal hat, scarf and glove
the pleasure of it permeates
souls
with the nature we love
here in the forest, the misty forest
be one lost and found
take the time to appreciate
the mystery of mistery found all around
We are sitting in the basement
fifteen of us and a few cats and dogs
the battery powered light
flickering endlessly
giving this dark windowless
space an unsettling strobe
effect
we are powerless to
correct
anything
there’s constant noise down here
the wet wood in the furnace
gathered in life risking scrambled forays
sizzles spits and pops
like everything above ground
the thermal fan under it turns on
ever grinding stripped cogs
whir, grrr, whir, grrr
such a refuge
such refugees
the six month old baby grizzles
persistently as her mother rocks in place
mother elicits an endless suppressed
yet ever audible keening cry
over the child
eeee, oh, eeee, ooh, ooooh
our elderly neighbour in the corner
incessantly mutters unintelligibly and fossicks
in his rucksack for something
he never seems to find
rustle, bustle, rustle
the small boys of the street wrestle
spar for an activity to do until
someone inevitably gets hurt
accusations fly accompanied by
pleading cries and whimpers for concern
but there is little room for that
sook sook sook
oh the irony of such violence
here and now in play
and then the recriminations begin
all over again
or it's back to the board games
already fought over and
played dozens of times
or back to exhausted, restless sleep
the horror that has thrown us together
it has lasted five days now
with no end in sight
I mean how would we know
we have no radio
if there was
if there is
any end in sight?
add the horror of literally dashing
and splashing
to relieve yourself topside
before something or someone
gets you in one way or another
the horror of what you see while
you are out there
exposed and defenceless
amongst the snipers
the stray ordinance
the wreckage
the carnage, the bodies and body parts
the smoke and the smell
you can't get rid of any of it
the imagery burnt into your retinas
the stench of burnt everything
embedded in your nostrils
the burns on your skin
your very own smouldering soul
two young girls push toy cars and trucks
around the room
filling them with anything they can
that will support a story
of some sort to overcome their fear
you never know how it will manifest next as they
fret, fidget, fuss, fume or fuse
we all stare at the floor most of the time
except for the brief apprehensive looks
heavenward, to the ceiling
with every new global shudder of
our tiny enclosed world
we know where we are yet we are lost
we are buried
I wonder will we be buried here?
in our own reality show
live tombing
what will that be like?
CRUMP!
is it that noise that bothers most?
or is it the ripping and tearing of metal and wood
like live cardboard screaming
until it also is finally dead and still
all movement defeated
all creaks silenced
all purpose gone with the wind
the exploding windows
the thumps and whumps of trees and structures
unknown
falling to the earth
the wild crackling and detonation
arcing earthing power lines writhing
like electrocuted psychotic snakes
the searing howling jet stream that is
simply the roar of wind
generated by wildfire and wild fire
the small arms fire rippling
like saucepan popping corn
the convulsive impacts of
guided bombs
drones
missiles
random artillery
or
the moments of deathly silence when it all stops
when the next set of questions begin
do we venture out with hope?
or do we continue to wait
to still sit still in
this basement of dread
our will to endure fading
fading deeper into despair
our fading resilience
a fading of body and mind
we can see in our minds eye
the fading of our ink
from every record
of us there ever was
as we fade from presence
and the present and from
remaining data banks
we fade from existence
as surely as every other
ordinary person is knowingly
or carelessly erased by war
I searched for the river to slake desperate thirst I thought it was somewhere around here I thought I smelled water but I remained cursed every turn brought simply more tears I toiled through the scrub on my knees as a first I soon began to smell fear the dry of my throat and my eyes were the worst but I still felt there was water around here my effort was flagging my heart fit to burst lost I scrambled and crawled for life dear then I heard a tinkle with cracked lips pursed I stopped to listen and peer was I tricked, in illusion immersed? no, there a gleam through the woods did appear and I rose and I ran and the wild things dispersed as I charged and leapt logs like a deer all the pain and the doubt that I had nursed vanished like fog from a weir disappeared in that moment I felt myself blessed I found water deep, cool and clear and I dived right in, water up to my chin I drank and rejoiced in the swim and I swore in that water that life giving elixir no wrong would I e’er do again
Despite the many brave
She was taken by the waves
To a watery grave
No one was saved
This is the spot I like to sit
and watch the bees at work
this mere is the spot I take my rest
reflect on the mysteries of life’s cirque
to see the flowers pollinated
to see the caterpillar form and eat
to watch the chrysalis deliver
the pretty butterfly to floral seat
to watch the autumn turn green cloaking
to dusky yellow, reds and browns
before stripping bare and thus exposing
woody boughs for next years round
and in spring I observe the flourishing
of vivid sprouts and blooms from sleep
when they give energy nourishing
to new growth it fills me, replete
in knowing summer will again warm me
in this spot at nature's feet
At evening when the sunsets vary
when the birds settle in roosts far and wide
when the lowing cattle lie down to cud
I reflect on days toil and try to decide
will I stay on here with Mary
will we try another place far away
will it change anything really?
or is it just another run and hide
no loss can transport you to such misery
no grief can claim you so deep inside
like the death of the most precious to you
the loss of a loved first born child
Ah, the light of the golden hour
the yellow wash of dawn’s breaking sun
such pleasure in the early morn
omen for a another day of wonder
beautifully begun
I walked the roads on my feet of clay
clods of mud trailing in my wake
thick and sticky gluey and grippy
wet and heavy from the rain
I thought to put down roots again
I sought out my home lost long ago
but when I found it and I stood still
I discovered my roots would no longer grow
Does it alter every morning when the light strikes the land
when sunlight ever bright or through grey skies hits the strand
do the shapes and forms move
under photon pressure waver
only photographer or artist heeds every little quaver
when dark crevices are lit
by yellow shimmer or dull purple patches
when mountains high or plains below
are patched with coloured swatches
when treed slopes or waving fields
bask in brilliant splendour
it is time to remember nothing is static
take time to appreciate and consider
Whither the waste on every street
civil detritus at my feet
yet I walk on ignoring implications
of daily deposits and ruination
the industry iceberg from households deflects
convenience trumps, responsibility defects
as blithely we step our way into history
dumping waste our greatest legacy
and each new generation cries why me?
as they fill the land with more misery
An excellent walk in the towering Woollybutt Alpine Ash forest of Mt Stirling. Find my map and description here https://walkingmaps.com.au/walk/5836
I navigate life as a mariner
sailing unpredictable seas
Respectful yet wary
of what they might bring to me
the sea is my natural element
alternating tranquility with power
for me there is no better firmament
to anchor each ticking hour
the waves provide each peak and trough
of life’s brief and epic journeys
that for me is always enough
with the pleasure and pain they have earned me
afloat I bob between the layers of over and undersea
in my boat my capsule of life I bob most jauntily
when l’m aloft the view ahead is a matter of degree
when down below the view is fine,not seen murkily
time will come I’ll be called down deep by Davy Jones
my time of clear air or storms on water will be done
I’ll find a sandy bed to rest and place my ageing bones
afar from the binding land, eyes dead to the blinding sun
The Finch
with red brow and olive wings
presents a pretty picture
Upon its chosen perch
it even makes the invasive thistle look good
With pleasure I spy
scenery I would rather deny
This is the second last of the ten walks to be mapped and published by me from Winton Wetlands. It has taken a while to get to, but it was worth the wait: Lunette walk
You can find the other Winton Wetlands walks I have published to date here: https://wintonwetlands.org.au/walking/
Koetong Creek in Mt Lawson State Park runs through open woodland of Narrow and Broad-leaf Peppermint, Candlebark, Manna, Blue and Brittle Gum, Red Stringybark, Long-leaf and Red Box. You will also find Black Cyrpess-pine and Kurrajong. The combination of diverse forest layers, a cascading waterway (Spa) and beautiful wildflowers give this walk a real buzz. Take a hike.
You will find the walking map and details I have published on http://www.walkingmaps.com.au here Koetong “Spa” and Wildflower walk
Watkins walk is a Strathbogie Tableland roadside walk through grazing farmland and native forest. One of its other attractive features is the high conservation value roadside vegetation including various towering species of eucalypt.
Such roadsides are critical local biolinks for flora and fauna. There is plenty to see and wildlife sightings are common.
This is a little trafficked smooth gravel road and Strathbogie Tableland is quiet. You can hear cars approaching from some way off. It is pretty safe walking. However, it still makes sense to stick to the right of the road so you are facing any oncoming vehicles that do appear.
Click this link Watkins walk to the map I have created on http://www.walkingmaps.com.au
The telescope told me I must act Whispering of star falls and moonrise attack I reflected on the power I lacked I must net time and hold it back the home I could lose the ground where I stood solid as rock shapable as wood saw me wretched with fear indecisive and torn was this last of days the final morn? So I took my sharpest pencil my notebook red wrapped my head in wool to drown out the dead in their bottle on the waves above the seabed. I went to the library to learn from the books how to save the moon from destructive skyhooks the learning was crystal clear as a diamond shards came together for this ignorant vagabond I knew what to do I knew it was right to save moon and world I had to take flight I set my glider to fly from an open window when the sun’s mellow light fades to soft evening glow I leapt on board to find rising fresh air but all that I found was a down draft there and I fell to the earth as so many more I resolved to try again but not like before. A path to nearby mountains was a long weary trek if I ramped it straight upward I could launch like a jet but the weight of the world again dragged me down into glass houses I crashed with a moan so I built giant steps on which I climbed high to take the moon down from the sky. As I ascended clouds hid the way I clipped their wings with shears of grey the stars came to guide me as I climbed and climbed pushing ever upward was all on my mind until the way was clear the view up ahead was one of the moon on a black velvet bed a moon barely rising still held in sleep’s sway a moon reluctant to hear my story let us say so I sweet talked that moon with promises and bribes offering pleasurable time on earth in which to imbibe the moon gave a yawn looked up and looked down asked if I was prophet, conman or clown? requested some proof what I had to say was true for it could hear only nonsense hard to construe so I pointed to the black heavens where no starlight glowed the moon was astonished then concerned and then bowed I will go with you to spend time on earth while threats to the skies are beaten and dispersed I will rise again when the stars once more burn to light the night sky with starlight returned. Moon sank into the ocean for a seaside holiday destruction avoided with the moon at play the culprits attacked night to find nothing but vacuum and the cow in the sky scooped them up with a spoon. This week Mish asked we poets to write from a gallery of surrealist photographer Erik Johansson’s images. Find the prompt here:
https://dversepoets.com/2023/05/09/poetics-slipping-into-surrealism-with-erik-johansson/
It has been a while since I have embarked on a GTO (or much in the way of creative writing at all for that matter). I have been otherwise occupied. Why? Happily, the reason is the subject of this GTO.
In retirement I developed my habits of walking, cycling and writing into something more like lifestyle choices. Combined with photography, I found myself outside often, roaming in new places, observing with pleasure, feeling fortunate and interested in the many ways and forms of life and ecosystems around me. It costs little, the prep is fun, the exercise is great and every outing opens your eyes that much wider and your mind expands that much further and you just feel good.
I found myself privileged. Here in Victoria there are so many diverse natural places to savour. Even where environmental degradation has occurred there is often evidence life will find a way. (Whether with or without humans takes on less and less significance exploring as an individual. You barely register on the scale of things so you don’t matter one little bit. You are simply lucky to be there and to bear witness).
I started mapping, photographing and describing these places for others to share. It seemed a good retirement project – to spread the feelings of well being experienced in diverse green spaces . To identify low cost beneficial outdoor activities for other people. To put walkers in these spaces as discoverers of beauty and advocates for deterring misuse and champions of habitat improvement.
Since then I have been asked to transform this hobby into project work for local government and a health promotion charity. As grateful for such opportunities as I am, and as good as that has been, I now finally get to the specific subject of this GTO.
Over the past six months I have been working on a new and wonderful project: “Walking and Rolling: accessible walking paths for people with disability”. Our inclusive team has co-designed an audit tool for assessing walking paths for accessibility. I have been co-auditing accessible walks beside people with disability.
We launched the first 24 Victorian accessible walks last week in a joyful celebration on a glorious day. We have made the audit tool publicly available as a free to use resource for people with disability, carers, families and land managers to do their own assessments and publish accessible walks they identify. Accessible walks are for everyone. There are more to come.
This is an incredibly worthy GTO for me to have fallen into. To my colleagues and the people with disability who have helped make this happen, I will be appreciative to the end of my days. In the meantime, let’s keep going!
poetography.ink 