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
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
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
The luxury of poetry the images created there the pleasantries of high art the challenges laid bare the thoughts on truth and beauty the ugly brutal truth the clearly written words the affected words forsooth
the scibblings of a madman the writing of a scribe the wounds of the wounded the dying and dead imbibed the love of many lovers the truth and pain of love the anxiety of living the wonder of it hereof the unitary or divisive delivery of hell or heaven above
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
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
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.
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