Scarce resource

Pouring down, hitting ground; transmutating.

Seeps slowly underground, no abating.

Gradually following gravity’s pull,

Channelled torrents churn to violently mull.

Cascading courses entwine, clashing. This

Roaring deluge crashes with a hiss.

Omnidirectional mist, high and low.

Fleetingly dancing, riding to and fro,

On gentle cavern’s zephyr, in the dark;

No living creature to watch or to hark.

Droplets traverse the void of chasm, old.

Catching hold, dingle dangle, dripping cold.

Rivulets forming, trickling, finding pass,

Slowly towards the edge, achieving mass.

Flowing from upon high to splash below.

Tinkling then momentary ripples show,

Moving across slow ebbing surface, creep.

Joining still amorphic pool, running deep.

Jacarandas

Late afternoon in Morningside.

Yellow and purple-blue jacarandas

Stand, in contest on Kates Street.

Puffed up in show of flower bells,

Attracting bees to plunder, and

Springtime passers by, to wonder

At the temporary beauty beheld.

Zombiween

Lazy limbs and bones,

Sluggish to the core.

Stagger, twist and swing

T’ward unknown purpose, all

Insatiable appetite for flesh,

Undiscerning, rich or poor.

Reproductive feedings, leaving

Swathes of blood and gore.

Horrors of imagination conjured in name of fun.

Back to real life, it’s all basking in the Sun!

Poem – Words

Thoughts ….. float ….. forth.

Unconsciously conjured from etheric darkness. Transmuting into gems, to be raked, graded and sequenced.

Strings

Uncoil, undulate,

Knot.

Repeated until magnum opus’ in hand;

Orators inspire,

Dictators demand.

In comparison, soft speakers mouth and utter.

Unheard messages left fading

….. into….. soulful….. silence.

Poetry revisited

I recently met a writer in a non-authoring situation. After completing a little background reading on them, I decided it was time.

I enjoy writing poems, but are they any good? When viewed through Olumide Holloway’s creative writing lens (Word Up), they mostly suck.

In the spirit of reflective self improvement I have revisited one of my ditties.

On a side note I learned that shaking the iPhone, in frustration, allowed me to undo the accidental deletion of said poem.

Tinsel

Polyvinyl chloride sparkle, eons in the making;

Irresponsibly procured, a token,

In an intergenerational

Treasure hunt for more,

now strewn.

Destined to voyage and become entwined,

In a grotesque ocean whirl.

To disintegrate and be consumed by

Zooplankton and coral; the primordial source.

Reports abound of microplastic laden seafood, served upon the plate.

Will it lead to ecocide and humanity’s suicide? Scientists debate.

Let me know if you think it is an improvement on the original, below, or not.

Incongruous

Beneath a hedge

Beyond leaf litter and bark

Draped over twigs

The blue tinsel-tousle dwells

Shadows of the past

When memories stir, 
Confused feelings occur. 

Of a time gone by;

Thoughts of emotions, running high.

Attached to people and things:

Two chairs; a desk; a book of secrets sings;

Remonstrations falling on deaf ears. 

The screams inside that nobody hears, 

Due to naivety, self delusion and grief. 

Nothing seems to bring relief,

A spiralling descent away from light. 

No energy to fight nor for flight.  

Time and life have healed the blight. 

Knowing and accepting myself, day and night,

And my partner’s love and support,

During battles waged and darkness fought. 

Regulation and repetition


Artificial flowery, powdery and citrusy fragrances reach nostrils, setting sinuses a flutter. ‘Clean’ smells of soaps, deodorants and perfumes from those, en route. 

Early morning sunshine dazzles the reluctant traveller, on their way to work. Hazy buildings line the route, neither in shadow or in light. 

Fellow passengers gaze, blankly, silently, caught up in their thoughts and phones.

How strange, this world of written and unwritten regulation and repetition. 
Photo: Electrical Engineering Building, UNSW

Winter warmth

The trees in Sydney are catching on to the fact that it is Winter. 

Winter warmth of russet, orange, 

Red, and some brown ‘gainst sky of blue;

Sluggish words rolling off the tongue; 

Round sounds linger in the crisp air. 

Urban eclipse

Contrasts:

  • dark and light,
  • unkempt and pristine, 
  • old and new, 
  • cluttered and neat. 

Corner of Higson Lane and Little Flinders Lane eclipsing the Chanel store, Melbourne, Australia.