Dusk at the drop off, Mt Wombat, Strathbogie Tableland, Victoria.
I was loitering on the corner after friends had dropped me there I didn’t go nowhere because I was scared I felt it coming a fright and a fear as if it was my last year
and when it finally fell upon me the anticipated dread I wished I had stayed at home in my warm and cosy bed the devil in his black coat to me he came and said I’m gonna frame you
I looked around but I couldn’t see anything of a crime I waited there longer I waited some extra time there was nothing to give me a clue no flashing sign that my whole world was a turning
when she pulled up in her long bright shiny yellow hearse I avoided her stare as if it was a curse but eventually she prevailed with a promise to reimburse me for my trouble
we drove to the mountain right to the very top when we got there she made the hearse come to a stop right at the edge by a long steep drop I exclaimed I was scared of heights
she got out of the car came round and opened my door I didn’t see her coming cos I was looking at the floor she pulled me out with the strength of two or three or four and dumped me on the dirt by the barriers
I struggled as she prepared to throw me into the abyss but then she bent to give me my first Judas kiss I knew what was coming so I ducked and she missed I pushed her in the chest and she swayed backwards
little did I know that she would unbalance then I watched her teetering on the edge until when she fell to her death just as god sent me a message
he said to get out of there because things weren't looking pretty I didn’t need no message I as tore across the city my mind was in turmoil full of self pity I found a little hideaway a little dirty a little gritty and laid low until things blew over
ever since that day I’ve been creeping around the town all nervous and alone again I’ve been going round worried the cops would do me over and when I would be found but my life became fortunate and stable
the lord moves in mysterious ways around my little hangout but in my mind there really is no skerrick of a doubt he saved me twice from death and the devil without my ever understanding anyways how or about I ever got to be in so much trouble
For lovers, North Creek, Strathbogie Forest, Victoria.
In forests we go walking to find the time for talking to take us away from the city hustle ever stalking
I meet you on love’s wings at the perimeter of meadows and I love you all the more as we enter soft green forest shadows
we take the paths less trodden to open new forest doors we find our way to high places to meres and rugged moors
the ferns they point our way with glistening fronds a waving guiding us through the timeless forest we find ourselves a weaving hand in hand we travel each a lovestruck wandering Gypsy this time this place alone together precious magical and carefree
sun rays light the glades with golden shafts of wonder we look aloft, laugh and dance beneath the forest grandeur
we lie down on forest beds and let our fingers do some walking our hands our lips our tongue tips put a silence to the talking
again the language of forest love begins and with it our renewal I’ll always be your forest love you my cherished forest jewel
when the forest loving is done and we must find our way back home we’ll look forward to more forest talking and forest loving yet to come
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
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
Boundary Hill Road, Strathbogie Tableland, Victoria.
Walking Boundary Hill Road in dappled sun from the Mannas and Blue Gums lining the run the trees are magnificent and so is the landscape when you are walking here the feeling is great
Photography days #30.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Fewer Koalas visit us these days, Strathbogie Tableland, Victoria.
We witness their leaving like smoke in the wind the wildlife departure impossible to rescind following First Nations people out of the bush into memory alone at an increasing rush when we came here there were many koalas just 16 years ago now their sighting is uncommon as they falter and go and the freshwater crays I haven’t seen for five years the metal blue of their backs absent - extinction fears there once was a blackfish but it also is gone from the spring creek below us it once called home and the robins are fewer where they once dominated the platypus just hanging on from being eradicated I’m sure the list is much longer but what more can one do than try to protect what is left sheltered in a zoo more people and cars, disease, cats, foxes, more stock more land cleared, less native food, climate change, ticking clock we should know better but our efforts are weak we talk local but the world must now deliver what we seek
Poetry days #30.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
The star that fell as a bright flaring slash across the sky was really a meteor the dull star that brightens then fades over weeks in the night above is really a comet the star that arcs in a consistent orbit lit in the heavens is really an artificial satellite if ever a star was to really fall toward earth the solar system would simply ignite There is no Father Christmas
Poetry days #26
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Yellow-tailed black cockatoos, Strathbogie Forest.
The one on the left said, "What will we do? I think share all our seed, what about you two?" The one on the right said, "I've earned more than you." "I'll be taking full earnings, as is my due!" The one in the middle said, "Be reasonable." On cue. "There's no need to bicker, dissent or argue. Let's eat what we need and let some accrue." The way forward was set by this Yellow-tailed black guru.
Poetry days #22.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
The bird that spoke that first perfect note was a revelation to its kin because she could sing so beautifully the other birds decided to join in
some of the birds variations heard they felt they could do better so they sang with melodies that made the landscape ring and to each note gave a letter
a chorus formed of singing birds who organised their songs into works of art many species took part and for the choir others came along
a feud broke out all about which birds sang best of the rest unresolved each species kept their songs close to their chest and so today when you hear each sing their special tweet be mindful that this is why only one song can each species ever repeat
Poetry days #16.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
I accept the dew of early morn as through golden hour I walk the brittle sun of dawn is come to break on every dewy stem and stalk an ascending wave it pushes away nights waning mantle of grey seeking out each shaded hollow where the sprites of night still play
as my feet dampen and my spirits rise with every step I take i feel the joy inside of me stir peacefully to fully awake the first touch of warmth upon my skin bodes well for another day i turn my face to far horizon where sun breaks cover with glorious rays
vivid pinks and yellows dress the sky in resplendent heavenly garb the first full shafts of light to pierce the dew delight with rainbowed prisms and shards they brush the earth with tantalising grace promise of the day to come I consider that prospect as I return to the place where I came from
my home upon the hill does beckon lit in tones of gold breakfast awaits and children’s smiles call me back to the fold as I return in new light I reflect on mornings journey through rising mist toward embracing tasks ahead, now worry off my list as mornings clarity prepares me for the next path I am to tread this moment of pure atmosphere also readies me I am dewly led
Poetry days #12.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
a brown goshawk feasts on an grey shrike thrush behind the house
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.
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