Photography days #11.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Mt Stirling, Victoria
8
Tag Archives: Poetry
Entitlement
Captured by ideas that stick
neither ethical or vindicated
like viruses infecting common sense
thinking cell irrationality is replicated
the brain within its box
looks normal the body functions well
but the expression of what is right
is a sign of a parasite from hell
a social disease spreads rampantly
there is low resistance in the body politic
the social contract also
breaks down weak and apathetic
sovereign individuals like zombies
run on a contagion spree
clogging the arteries of justice
demanding parking fines for free
not subject to common law
they insist on being allowed to dump
their obligations and responsibilities
in the first available sump
the red flags are a waving
the warning lights are on the wall
of democracy is the engraving
once lost it will always be gone
I look at the sovereign citizens and wonder
where they come from
their sense of self righteousness and injustice
must be an infection gone wrong
just like a raging microorganism
they inflame and wear and tear
in delirium
the very system that supports them
without hesitation, clear thought or care
Poetry days #11.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Mausoleum
Untouched by day by moon unlit
cold resting place for those deemed fit
high rank and majesty interned in stone
where we wander wondering how alone
these lives and deaths were really spent
kings and queens of this cold tent
dust to dust settles in this lifeless place
humanity lost from each rigid face
symbols of life symbols of death
no spark of life each lonely wraith
just like others humble, pauper or brave
their lives came to nought but another grave
Poetry days #10.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Snowline
for the clearest view
here's what to do
climb the highest mountain
to just above the snowline
where the trees fade away
on a clear blue day
Photography days #10.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Birds
Each bird to its own
the cockatoos wheeling and complaining about the violent hand claps that have warned them off the fruit
I swear they’ll go hungry or find someone else’s trees to plunder
the blackbird dashing here and there
tossing up mulch and leaf litter from the garden beds every which way
then singing for their supper
who could begrudge them with such sweet voice
the tiny silver eyes scouring the Japanese maples for tiny insects
darting from one bough to another twittering to each other as if conversation was never allowed a gap
the wild ducks patrolling the grass
mama papa and nine waddling ducklings
who alternate between a confident swagger and animated scurry to parental shelter when too far astray
the chiming grey shrike thrushes sending their musical calls to each other
gladdening the hearts of everyone in acoustic range
adding their friendly company to garden diggers and verandah sitters with books in hand
the magpie family units patrolling the grounds for prey
maturing juveniles wrestling on granite pavements practicing nesting with twigs and twine stolen from the vege patch
constantly whining and dining at mums beak
the multi coloured rosellas in flocks of crimson, green and metal blue
nipping seed heads from the grass flashing colour into the sky
making the landscape a vivid tapestry
bell chiming to each other from tree to tree
the twitching turning ever restless honeyeaters constantly on the wing
eastern spine bills diving into blossoms with curved needle beaks
new hollands darting and diving with gusto at every intruder
wattle birds holding all at bay or aggressively chasing them away
the hopping bower birds establishing their flock
with growing numbers and inquisitiveness staking their ground
atop water bowls and into every ripening fruit they can steal their strong stubby beaks ready to stab and peel
the soaring raptors spiralling aloft on the wind
keen eyes of the hunter for anything that moves
diving like a deadly missile from heaven above
to capture a rodent, a rabbit or unaware dove
Poetry days #09.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Autumn at Alfred Nick
There is a garden in the Dandenong Ranges
I call it Alfred Nick
after its long departed owner
who bequeathed it to our state
There are many gardens in the Ranges
but this one is the pick
of autumnal Ranges' splendour
vivid colour above
below lying thick
I drive the winding roads most every autumn
with camera in my hand
at the gates I pause
deeply breathe crisp mountain air
in anticipation of trees so grand
there is a lake in the Ranges
in the garden I call Alfred Nick
in autumn leaves make artful arrangements
on the surface
ephemeral so be quick
in this magical place full of growth and life
the photography is opportunistic
where human design and nature's creations
blend native, exotic and mystic
where ethereal mists linger and clear
for ambient blur and clarity rarely seen
in one place at one time
without ever repeating
every visit is unique
every visit is a joy
every vista a delight
reigniting the spark in
every nature loving
man, woman, girl and boy
For this week’s dVerse prompt Punam has asked we poets to write of autumn. My favourite season. The prompt speaks of love, so I present one of my autumn loves – Alfred Nicholas Gardens in Victoria’s Dandenong Ranges.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Green shed Wood shed
evening light
green shed machine shed
for grass and pruning nicely cropped
wood shed drying shed
wood split and chopped
Photography days #09
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Time
Time forgive me
I have not used you well
I lived without a thought
given to your passing
your never ending
support of which I ought
have appreciated
gratefully respected
sincerely thanked upon my soul
because now I know
you will let me go
you are not mine to control
infinite time
you will pay me no mind
and at your pleasure
you will swallow me whole
Poetry days #08.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Mountain man
Of the mountains
of the peaks
of the hills and valleys steep
I the mountain
man of woodland
keep my forest keep
in the rivers
in the lakes
in the waters deep
I bathe and water
fish for supper
pull my oars asweep
i am a hunter
and life preserver
at loss in grief I weep
at end of day
abed I lay
to drop to restful sleep
Poetry days #07.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Wetlands watching
we look this way
we look that
we raise our binoculars
we have a chat
we love the birds
everywhere we see
delightful birds
we watch with glee
Poetry days #07.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Apartment
I walked into the apartment
on a turbulent afternoon
in my tiny slice of sky
ominous clouds did loom
the titans were massing
for a deadly contest
but through my small window
I could see no conquest
Poetry days #06.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Mr Unknowable Self
What is that thing you have concealed at the back of the darkest shelf
Mr Unknowable Self
what is it you have hidden away
is it for a rainy day
is it for a special time or special friend to reveal
is it honestly come by or is it something you steal
who are you Mr Unknowable Self
and the secretive part of you
neither pauper nor with wealth
covert and invisible to all including yourself
fearful of understanding
a past that might never heal
committed to hiding away the things not to be revealed
so how are you Mr Unknowable Self
are you content with never knowing
never believing in yourself
will you practice deceit all your life to avoid one likely fact
if you explored the things you don’t want to know
you with yourself
might that make a peaceful pact
so take down that thing from the darkest shelf
open it to the light
make sure it is dealt
with to relieve you of your plight
Poetry days #05. For the online Lysterfield Lake walking map and description I have published on the Victoria Walks web site click: Lysterfield Lake circuit walk
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Sunshine v breeze
Fierce sunshine challenges an emerging breeze,
"Take me on if you will, my radiant expertise".
Breeze stays gentle, slowly brings summer rain.
"Well sunshine, would you challenge me again?"
Poetry days #04.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want Ai to use my work.
Rainbow
A rainbow cast its arcing spell
across the horizon from hill to dell
sweet colours did the people see
I saw an enchanted mystery
from where I stood the vivid arch
did move as I moved across the path
no matter how I tried to catch its base
it slipped from me with every pace
I could not solve this riddle before me
for it faded, just as magically
as it appeared in pastel splendour
and so my query had to end there
Poetry days #03.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Red back pack
The red back pack was already second hand
bought cheap from an opp shop by a hiking man
it’s straps were a bit frayed
it’s colour a bit faded
the brand now out of favour
but it still had years of wear
there were pockets for liquidity
and pockets for your water
pockets for snacks
and a wear pocket for nadir
but if you kept that pocket closed
there was nothing there to fear
there were pockets for your clothing
pockets for rain and sleeping gear
there was a pocket for a journal
and a way to quickly reach a camera
because recording of life’s journey
involves equipment for ephemera
it had seen through a lot of windows
it had been through many a door
it had heard so many a tales
it couldn’t remember them all anymore
it had walked the tracks and trails
of many countries around the globe
such that it's experiences
never felt far from home
but it was ready for new adventures
to be up and about again
it was only a matter of time
before the hiking man said when
Poetry days #02.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Goodenia Rainforest, New South Wales
Shafts of sunlight break up the gloom
into luminous green rainforest rooms
every moist step and touch of the earth
another experience of the wonder of life
Photography days #05. You can find the Goodenia walking map and description online at Victoria Walks: https://walkingmaps.com.au/walk/5756
All work is my own and copyright applies. I do not use AI. I do not wish for AI to use my work.
A nice thing
You gave my day a lift
with the words you gave me as a gift
and the things you did
I don’t know if you knew
but especially coming from you
I took them straight to heart
and I’m grateful for your part
in making my day special
right from the very start
that was a nice thing that you said
and nice things that you did
Poetry days #01. Find the path here: https://www.nationalparks.nsw.gov.au/things-to-do/walking-tracks/mount-kosciuszko-summit-walk
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
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!
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
