Ah, this last of exquisite autumn days the slant of light of breaking rays through fractured clouds to which some might say how disappointing this grey sky day but the rays of light delighted me the yellow bands proportionately dominate the view, you can’t but see the illumination of everything touched by these
and in that light the detail found from sun's surface waves inbound everything on earth reflects colour and pleasure if you look hard enough for work or leisure an architect's masterpiece of blossoming features or a beautiful flower of imperfect creases
see the light touch your skin examine the surface you find yourself in think of yourself as embodied light the light within grants power of sight and if you think deeper you just might fully appreciate autumn's dying light
This was my cat “Panther”. I had her from when I was 12 years old until she was 21 years old (and I 33). She used to walk down to the shops with me. She was a delightful domestic cat. However, after working in the bush I now see the terrible toll cats take on our native species. Domestic cats should never be allowed to leave a controlled and enclosed space to roam free.
Stealthy predator of malign intent brought to a new country evil sent with no defences natives fall like dominoes before claw and paw
colonising new territory by the day nothing effective stands in the way a death count of billions by today an introduced plague that makes death play indigenous species fall by the way
to arrest this devastation we catch and kill but the feline mind eludes us still and hand on heart heart on sleeve we witness endangerment extinction and grieve
As the first photo. indicates, I was a cat lover once. No longer. I chose “What Shall we do with the feathers?” by Lois Wain. I think the artist meant it to be a cute picture. The collars suggest domestic cats. They have just had a bit of fun together killing a bird despite the fact that they are fed daily by a human. However, to me it represents catastrophe because domestic cats and their feral offspring in Australia today are responsible for countless uncontrolled deaths. A plague of feral cats is decimating our native wildlife.
The dVerse prompt for we poets this week came from Melissa, to choose a Louis Wain artwork based on cats, and write a poem inspired by the artwork. One catch– we may not use the word cat. Other feline terminology is acceptable.
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
Beauty is in the moment Sitting by a window Sun streaming in From directly across the way Low in the pale blue winter sky But strong enough to warm the room Through tall floor to ceiling glass Strong black lines The shadows of the woodwork Stretch long, deep and straight Across shiny slate Framing the scene Defining the space Giving shape to enveloping comfort Warming the calm Enclosing peacefulness As I now heavy lidded Look out on gold rimmed trees Vivid green grass Foraging birds And hear the cascading water of the creek Beauty is in this moment
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.
I'm walking in the evening
smelling all the sounds
I'm strolling through the gloaming
Doing my enchantment rounds
I'm catching all the moonbeams
and putting them in my pocket
Remembering fondly daydreams
Preparing days last docket
The path is lit so brightly
in silver and dappled grey
The water sprites dance lightly
on moonlit water spray
And where the cascading creek
pools calmly at my feet
it reflects the Milky Way
I'm walking in the evening
Hearing all that I can see
I sense the bobuck in the tree
before the bobuck senses me
A tawny frogmouth silhouettes
against a star bright sky
With silent flight of no regret
his dive is only heard by eye
White shades of cockatoos
perch ghostly in pairs aloft
Crests rising to the "Who? Who?"
of the barn owl in near croft
A mother koala briefly joins me
on her own purposeful path
Her joey clinging grimly
to her shoulders makes me laugh
And then a cool spring breeze
tousles my hair as if to please
and praise my meandering task
I'm walking in the evening
touching scents borne on air
I'm feeling all I'm feeling
I'm shedding care by care
Honeysuckle's sweet subtle breath
permeates all around
Bullrushes whisper secrets kept
Chocolate lilies abound
The swamp gum rustles above me
The peppermint towers high
The snow gum looks so lovely
as I tread quietly by
Flowering gums are tipped with fairy tutus
The manna creaks as it sways
All sprinkle the night with eucalyptus scent
whispering to the wind, “Australian bush” they say
And then on the horizon I see my home
It calls me from my roaming
To sit in darkness without a sound
I savour all the night has shown me
while walking in the evening
This week the d’verse prompt is from Lillian. She asks we poets to, “Take a walk with me.” You can view the full prompt here https://dversepoets.com/2023/09/05/take-a-walk-with-me/ I have chosen to rework a poem from a while ago that reflects on walks in the evening near my home. I hope you enjoyed walking with me.
Save Our Strathbogie Forest supporters gather amongst the giant trees.Helen McKernan introduces the SOSF chuffed.org crowdfunding campaign.Wild Hearts express their support and get everyone active.Giant Messmates dominate the scene.Sally Mann talks about the reasons for the campaign.Sue Ablitt explains the structure of the organisation.Bertram Lobert fills us in about the legal requirements and action to date.Bert answers questions from the gathering. Supporters pay close attention to the discussion. On Sunday we gathered at the giant Messmates in Strathbogie Forest to launch the Save Our Strathbogie Forest Action Group’s chuffed.org crowdfunding campaign. This campaign is in support of the Save Our Strathbogie Forest legal challenge to stop DEECA and FFMV burning endangered Greater Glider habitat. Strathbogie Forest is amongst the best Greater Glider habitat in the country. These Victorian Government Departments want to burn precious habitat there without reasonable justification.
Despite my best intentions I have failed to deliver the small monthly newsletter I edit for our community to my blog since May. In fact, I have failed to deliver anything to my blog since May! Let’s just say there has been a lot of other stuff happening. I am happy to say I have continued delivering Tableland Talk to our community nonetheless. Now it is time to re-establish myself here in this favourite space.
One of the things I have been involved in has been working with the Strathbogie Tableland Action Group Communications sub committee on our community web site http://www.strathbogie.org This work is entirely managed and maintained by volunteers. It might not have all the bells and whistles, but it has merit. If you have missed TT in your life you will find the current and all back issues here – so take a look.
OK, so it’s a beautiful morning. Cold, about 1 degree when I got up. Just a touch of frost. The grass is very green and I can’t see a cloud in a very blue and crisp winter sky. The air is sharp, crystal and the light breeze has a bite that penetrates. Nonetheless (I love that word), it is a beautiful morning with the stripped bare deciduous trees revealed in their all their steak naked glory and the evergreen indigenous trees contrastingly clad in their full, puffed up grey green winter coats. It is a beautiful morning. It is silent except for the gentle rustle of that surprisingly penetrating soft wind. Oh, and the always there hushed background tumbling sounds of water spilling and falling, running and spinning, turbulent and dashing over flat granite shelves into rocky hollows and against small stray boulders pushed along by the intermittent pressure waves of variable winter flows as they surge with irregularity down the creek. It is a beautiful morning.
Against the cold I am wearing my favourite jumper. There is no heater on, just the layers of clothes capped by this marvellously insulating and cosy thickness of wool are keeping me warm. Lovingly knitted by my loving wife, it only really gets a look at the world in winter. It is too warm most of the time for wear in other seasons. I think that is what makes it all the more special. The built in love and warmth reflect its specialised purpose.
It is big and old, enveloping, creamy and embossed. These days it is a little on the stretched, sagging and droopy side (giving it a 10 on the affection scale – which as everyone knows is the top score for a jumper). It sort of hangs around me rather than is worn by me. In fact it could be called an affectionate jumper. The first of its kind and a quality to be aspired to and emulated by all knitters who learn of it.
The crew neck now has a cute little “V” shape from under which diverse collars can peek. Otherwise the knitting has held its pattern for years, making it sort of tight and loose at the same time. I love the detail of its repetition. This jumper has character. Maybe it even is a character in its own right. Yes, i think that is right, it has become a character in the story of my life because I have an emotional attachment to this jumper. We belong together. And that’s the way I like it.
Such a turbulent, pitiless, brutal battering.
This powerful storm wind pushes relentlessly through
the defenceless trees of the creek.
It lashes most at the isolated and vulnerable,
stripping them bare of grey green winter cloaks,
whipping the fabric of canopies to ragged threads,
blasting layers of protective cladding away into a roaring tempest.
This scouring wind probes incessantly for weakness,
fissures in the gnarly bark skins,
cracks in the very bones of each noble specimen
mercilessly exposing deficiencies
as it flails and lays bare its victims
with neither remorse nor respite.
Over extended over and over, flawed limbs fail first
fracture, snap and drop.
Crowns too heavy with water shake and quiver.
Sodden feet lose their grip on the world.
Once stately trunks twist, rock, waver, shudder
and fall.
And the sound of the final defeat is an explosive crack,
the collapse a mighty crash,
and the thud at the end is dead.
For today’s dVerse poetics Sarah prompted us to think and write about the elements. I chose air/wind because I often find myself contemplating the fierceness of a storm’s breath as it can turn the tranquility of our peaceful riparian zone into a deadly maelstrom.
I saw a creature in long shaded grass Apparently brown and moving fast It turned and twisted while trying to pass Through slender grain of yellow cast
I looked some time at its bobbing head At its swinging tail strange pointed red The smooth curved back came round again Fluidly rodent it looked up at me then
To my surprise it turned out to be Not a snake or rodent looking at me But of avian descent with full head to see A juvenile rosella stared knowingly
Who’d have thought such bright disguise Could cloud the vision of observer eyes On the ground coloured plumage denied Flashy brilliance so vivid in the sky
The words I have always heard about the silence of the forest have never rung true There is no silence in the forest No matter how much you romanticise or wish there to be
The forest is noisy relative only to just how hard you choose to listen
I was recently asked to deliver these photos of gorgeous droplets after a sustained misting rain – taken at our place a while back. I haven’t had much time for writing lately and thought these might be a good blog alternative to the written word until I get back to it. I hope you like them.
poetography.ink 