Poetry

Holding a window

/ Robert / 3 Comments
Digital picture of aliens

Holding a window
My right hand takes the lead.
Left index, middle, and ring fingers hold it up,
Pinkie stops it slipping,
Thumb is free: to scroll, to type, to tap, and to swipe.
Supplied as safe for use
Yet in the wrong hands, untold havoc can be wreaked.
Window to World’s wonders,
To humankind’s horrors, to heaven, and to hell.
Reeled in by digital
Words, numbers, pictures, sounds, games, networking, selling.
Steals you from the moment;
A portal to the past, future, and the unreal.
Sleek stylish case contains
Rare earth elements; poor harvesters’ lives snuffed out.
A battery fuelled time bomb
To become an environmental pollutant.
Without technology
Would we be ….. more or ….. less?

What could these be named?

/ Robert / 17 Comments

Yesterday, I was having more trouble than usual in making a decision. I decided not to paint as I did not believe the result would be any good.

Snatching a few moments after lunch and before going in the spa, I used green ink to sketch bubble chains with knife or claw like weapons plus eight and ten pronged star shapes ending with more prongs or spikes.

I imagine microscopic strings of metal snaking and undulating as they meander through the cosmos. The armament is used to defend, attack, and infiltrate asteroids, comets, and anything else that can assist its survival and reproduction.

The serpentine forms protect the dandelion clock like heads as they disperse and germinates more seeds of destruction.

What do you think they could be named?

Flow freely

/ Robert / 4 Comments
subtropic autumn

This week’s watercolour and ink painting is inspired by the autumnal colours of nature in the garden.

The following poem recounts the words that flooded my mind this morning as I made coffee; before starting to paint.

Flow freely

Refreshingly delicious fragrance

of freshly cut green blades springing back

after an autumnal shower

flow freely upon the softly caressing eastern breeze

wafting from bay to shore

drenched with less intense intermittent rays

between fast floating fluffy whites

illuminating tropical greens pinks purples reds oranges

and curling fronds swish as they wave

turning towards swaying saplings

with tantalising glimpses of ancient gargantuan branches

frantically rustling in their dance further inland

Gossamer consonance

/ Robert / 2 Comments
My ‘80s sister, Wimbledon day party, very heavy false lashes

This year my sister would have been sixty. As Mardi Gras is in the air, I authored the following poem in their memory, Gossamer consonance.

There is a photo of me from the same event at the end of this post.

Well my friends the time has come
All night long fond memories
Of us boogieing on down
In Blackpool of ‘84
My wistful sister dreams as
Lionel Ritchie serenades
Confident dragon hearted
A helping hand and support
With impish sense of humour
The eighties is our time to
Raise the roof and have some fun
Throw away the work to be done
Curious invert spirits joined
Relishing life’s offerings
And let the music play on
Play on play on
Everybody sing everybody dance
Lose yourself in wild romance
Australia with my soul mate
French lorry driver for Sis
Our gossamer consonance stretched
Ten thousand miles forty years
I imagine them beyond the veil
Forever young partying under
Perpetual mirrorballs
Yeah once you get started
You can’t sit down
Come join the fun
It’s a merry-go-round
Everyone’s dancing
Their troubles away
Come join our party
See how we play

‘80s me, Wimbledon day party

Abstract quest

/ Robert / 5 Comments

A wet day in South East Queensland, prefer for a whimsical verse and watercolour.

One of seven, my purpose is clear
Learn from each other, trust them my dear
Hunt, discover clues, stop for a beer
Fog may descend, path no longer clear
Senses enough to look, smell, touch, hear
If we get stuck, can visit a seer
Time to get moving, pack up the gear

2023 going out with a bang

/ Robert / 7 Comments
Abstract crepe myrtle with sky

Happy 2024 to all of my readers!

This is the last watercolour picture painted today and the following poem from the storm the day before.

Summer storm
Outside, deep air filled rumbles
Echoed by pre-breakfast stomach gurgles
Rapidly fading morning light rays’
Impeded by gloom grey clouds

Tinkle ping crash flash overhead
Panes rattle in frames
Storm’s expected to last for an hour
Stan pants, shaking on my lap
I type this on my phone with an index finger

Internet’s gone off, using mobile data
Light rain increasing to very heavy in thirty three minutes
The worst is yet to come

Drops pelt
Hammering heavily on the tin roof
High pitched whooshing increases ear pressure
Tinnitus swells

Stan lies rigidly vibrating
Momentarily stops awaiting the next sound
On it goes seldom slows

Then silence

Now distant grumbles

Cool Yule

/ Robert / 12 Comments
Quinkan* and tree

That’s it work is all done
Neither you nor I did freak
Soon will be Christmas Day hon’
Seems like the longest week

Shots side effects fasting
No need to count to ten
Rain BOM forecasting
Okay stay inside then

Commutes done ‘til new year
Blah impending rail works
Stay home plenty of cheer
Share love and food what perks

Relish every second
Supplies enough to last
Of a cool Yule air conned
‘Twill be over too fast

To dear readers I call
Wishes of joy to all

*Quinkan, First Nations Peoples spirit figure

Complete serenity

/ Robert / 2 Comments


Buoyantly supine quiescent
Indolently inhaling
Exhaling
Heartbeats slowly strum eardrums
Muffled glugs and gurgles murmur
Sun’s sparkles glimmer
Traced out onto umbrella’s canopy
Stasis
Water and air embraces
Nine years awaiting this moment
Complete serenity at almost sixty

Woe-man

/ Robert / 7 Comments

It appears the poetry muse is back

Oh woe is me, obese me!
I know, it’s just a wobble.
This grizzling grown woe he,
I groan, I moan, I hobble.
Stiff soreness, new aches, new pains,
Too overweight; I gobble.
Energy waxes and wanes,
‘Not enough’ brain’s at the core;
All good intent to nobble.
I groan and drone on some more.

Drag my ragbag ailments out.
Spring air’s chilly for my toes
Is this a symptom of gout?
Need socks with thongs to warm those,
Believed ne’er the twain shall meet.
Once airs and graces to show
Now putting right on’s a feat.
Sat while ironing clothes today,
Stand to shower, shave’s too long
First time for all, so they say.

Spirit’s lifted. Quite enough
Of this meandering verse
Boring readers, they could puff
And drop dead, call the hearse!