I want to read to you
a poem
though the words
I don’t know yet
it was never finished
or maybe just lost
so let me tell
the shape of it
instead
it begins
a whisper
of dissonant font
an uneven beat
mind’s eye
snags and skitters
but there
at the heart of it
empathy buds
rose-pink
teardrop ink
falls soft
as the last line
pains
across the page
… silence
Free verse
Non-rhyming poetry with no specific meter
-
The Poem
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-
“Happy Days”
hanging
for serenity
perhaps beyond
the back of Bourke
canvas tent
beside a billabong
now
that’d do me fine
or a hut
above the mangroves
where the barra still runs
sweet
no bulldust
of the big smoke
just a stubby and the scrub
the stars a thousand voices
singing peace
within my bones
-
Footprints
idled by the river watching the trees shiver
warm scent of red dust drifting from the road ahead
I turn the wheel with confident hands
heated thoughts subsiding into time’s flow
the summer breeze lifts my hair cooling my mind
lungs filled with memories of childhood
echoes of others’ memories sifting through me
heated thoughts recede
I bask content in a million moments distilled
listening to the clocks in my mother’s kitchen
warm scent of red dust drifts from the road ahead -
Mind-Full
mind cradled to quiescence
rolling with the static waves
of a modern soundscape
silence become
uncomfortable
unprofitable
unheard
unwelcome
in the search for anodyne
thought rattles uncertain
in silence
the rhythm skitters
tick tick
time
to find
in silence
waiting quietly
is voice
is breath
-
Source of Man
began
deep in the grey,
where rhythm knocks
minds first
of song
then word —
sparked
then bloomed
carried
on primordial pulse
into the now
resolving
in us
-
Poetry Resides
the taste of a word
on your tongue,
lingering
with the scent
of old memories,
spice-laden flavours
of your heart
laid down
in the precarious grey
depths, waiting,
synapses sleeping
occasional fluttering
spark
cherished
those inner vessels
in which we store,
distill
essence of remembered
time
and self
aged like fine wine
or mouldy cheese
breathing in
the scent of it,
breathing out
vivid in ink
-
Regulator Cracked
faster we spin
and faster
shit
look at us
grief swamps
his
lungs, drowning
gentle words
before they land
… one
worry spins
your
gut, flinging
help aside till
care flakes brittle
… two
rage boils
our
muscles, curdling
nascent smiles
while seeding hate
… three
wild glee bloats
their
hearts, spiralling
blinding peaks
torn apart from ‘we’
… four
faster we spin,
stretched –
fraying, torn
fragmented
breathing…
in
out
eyes open
we
in out
eyes open
and they
in out
eyes open
as one
our world
exhales

