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
Xanthorea gathering in Heathcote-Graytown National Park
It's good to see ya Xanthorea gathering in the forest your handsome forms and spiky hair well combed to keep you modest your food laden tail of unrivalled scale flags you as altruist unprejudiced your coming together in all kinds of weather shows how best to coexist
your invisible feet step slow and repeat toward timely arrival for greetings and meetings you are never late with your shuffling gait your committee nothing short of enchanting it leaves room aplenty for your language of rhyme to talk things through and determine what is true resolving prime issues one at a time until everything works out absolutely conclusively perfectly fine
Walking and rolling with Harro and son, Jack under giant California Redwoods in Ballarat where they hold up the sky and you marvel at that but just being able to be there is something else to marvel at for a father and son called Harro and Jack while creating another accessible walking map it is my great pleasure to be part of all that
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
when they cut me open what did they find a withered heart and a troubled mind my broken engine with its oil black muscles and sinews weak and slack a shrivelled soul extinguished of hope a brain of mush from alcohol and dope I knew what was coming so I preempted death with a listless overdose an easy last breath with death I claimed release from a life of never ending misery trouble strife judge me not I did the best I could homeless familyless and never any good
Poetry days #41.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want Ai to use my work.
Curse of our ever accelerating time leach of the time once yours and mine funnelling us to places we don’t want to be presenting us with things we don’t want to see corporate instructions with manipulative intent designed to create outrage reinforcement and vent secretive grabs pull our clicks and attention urging us to resist when facts are mentioned I loath the discomfort the rush to agree the social fragmentation from this wedge being driven between you and me
Follow the simple non digital instructions depicted here to put out the fire!
Poetry days #42.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
can you see the griffin dance across the garage door the sun made griffin just by chance of course I wanted more more the sun would not give me and the griffin faded fast this was my very first griffin alas I expect my last
Photography days #33.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Mine robe is rust it’s purpose refuge oxidised shell around me protector of my heart a flutter barrier to the world a clutter
betwixt my rusty robe and me lies a sea of tranquility where mind and soul are at rest where love beats strong in swelling breast
I dwell in rust on rusty bed my pillow brown for rusty head there find me with pledge to you amongst helter skelter rust piles askew
through water deep I will walk with you with you beside your rusty guide to rusty haven secure engraven come stay with me we're safe inside
in rusty fortress under rusty sky this place to be abide with me a rusty mantle tough rust retreat that malign forces will not defeat
my trusty eye my rusty robe deflects the fierce threats of the globe the purveyors of hate the snide deprived the walking hopeless the full divide to whom protective rust has been denied
I trust in rust as I trust in you together we’ll forge our rusty due the crust of rust our rusty glue
Poetry days #41.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
If the bright sun arising marks renewal of each day why is it so I persist in feeling dull and grey if the sun sinking below the horizon offers rest this way why is it each restless night tormenting dreams hold sway every night the same every week barely endured why the sun bothers at all I do not know when no resurrection is assured
Poetry days #39.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Hope is the beautiful anticipation of the next time we meet hope is that driver to deeds not yet complete hope makes the future worth working for hope is the key for unlocking any door hope blooms eternal
Poetry days #37.
The writing is my own and subject to copyright. Bloom is an artwork by artist / recycler Kate Howard. Winner: Swanpool Creative Recycled Art Prize. Scrap, Wow from Waste Exhibition, Swanpool, Victoria 2018.
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.
Hold those words as one beloved hold them close to your chest and let time slip step outside time as one embraced in the arms of poems that hold you in their grip be taken to that strange dimension where all is compressed and distilled into new forms of truth turned this way and that by the bent of the poet’s will reminded of who we truly are by words that by being will never lie weep laugh and gasp in that suspension of time being far from everywhere yet ever closer by
with thanks to Marcella Polain (Ed) Australian Poetry Anthology Volume 11, Foreword II, Australian Poetry Ltd. 2024
Poetry days #
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
Secretly we meet as separate, boy and girl but take each other’s hand for company and together in our own world forget their world which has split us, violently we tarry a while, for our regret is felt both deeply and silently
to give up our child before our prime when all we wanted was decency all we needed was more time to be a family and only to be with each other as three together instead of separate and lonely
Poetry days #34.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
poetography.ink 