We are extremely happy to be home with no damage. Previously, we sat in the house anxiously watching as the local creek water gauge rose up above 3m.
At 4m our house is inundated with 0.5-1.0m of water. A 1 in 1000 year risk, it happened in 2015 and again in 2022.
The forecast on Friday last week was for worse flooding than 2022. This time rather than waiting to be told to go to an evacuation centre that would not take Stan, we lifted as much as we could off the ground, turned the power and water off and left. We resigned ourselves that if it flooded we are insured with 40 weeks’ temporary accommodation covered.
Our fantastic friend in Brisbane put us up for three nights in his one bedroom apartment, he slept on the floor on sofa cushions.
Unfortunately, while we escaped the worst of the rain, to the south, the Gold Coast lost metres of sand from the beach, sustained flooding, and lost power for days.
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
In my haste to leave the house for work on Thursday, I left my phone at home. The 50 minutes commute in quiet contemplation went surprisingly quickly.
The return journey was spent squeezed between the sharpest armrest and a person who couldn’t seem to get comfortable in a seat with barely enough room for one person let alone sharing it with me and my portly stature.
Prior to sitting, they asked if I was saving the part seat next to me for someone. Could they sit down? I was flustered being in the middle of retrieving things I had spilled on the floor from my back pack. Hurriedly, I said of course, of course!
They seemed to be on a mission to call every person in their contacts with the same questions: What are you doing? What did you do last weekend? What are you doing this weekend?
Somehow, I managed to sketch ideas for variations on a self portrait I’m planning to paint in watercolour. The break from the phone provided space for inspiration to move me forward.
In keeping with last week’s water theme, the following is a poem entitled, More Precious than Diamonds. I wrote it ten years ago, against a background of drought.
Delicious drops of dew glisten in the
Cool light of dawn, slowly, slowly, dripping
From leaf from bud from twig. Clouds speed above,
Drizzle foreshadows a downpour, to drench
Landscape wide. Streams and brooks rush, swell, rise, run
Into rivers, flooding deltas, breaking
Free, flowing out to sea to oceans deep.
Dive into life giving blue, cleanse body
And spirit, swim west to sway with undines.
Grasp the chalice of aitch two oh. Deeply
Drink to link with Druids of old and new.
Oft’ used for scrying by many a seer
To reflect and look from seen to unseen.
More precious than diamonds, worth guarding well!
Below is a recording of me reciting this post including the poem.
When I write poetry, an idea seeds, lines sprout, grow forth and, bloom as if in shadow. At this point, I often haven’t decided on the form the poem will take.
During the 50 minutes’ commute to and from work, two to three days per week, I tap away with two thumbs on my iPhone 6 keyboard, typing into the Simplenote app.
Frenetically, refining, rewriting, and rearranging. Persistence and revisiting are key in wrangling with each word. The fingers of my right hand tap out the rhythm and count of each line on my right leg.
Reflecting on my writing is a strange experience as I’m no longer in the author head space. As a spectator, I often wonder how I managed to get the creation into the form it’s in.
Currently, I’m wrestling with unexpectedly challenging, auto biographical poems from before and after Fort Royal Fakery. In the mean time, this poem is one of my favourites. I like the way the words describe speed, force, and momentum of water.
Being born in the year of the Chinese water rabbit, with a Myers Briggs’ introverted feeling personality type, bodies of water calm, enliven, and sustain me.
When I saw the 1995 movie, Waterworld, it struck me that this dystopian future was a little too close to reality for comfort. It portrays the impact on humanity after the Earth’s polar ice has melted.
Whilst I have an affinity with water, I prefer to observe or swim in it rather than sail upon it.
You can read more about my creative journey on my blog theINFP.com.
The following poem, composed in 2019 is entitled
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.
Below is a recording of my recitation of the poem, comments will be gratefully received.
The great green glory of nature is encapsulated in the hypnotic rustle and sway of the grasses, surrounding Coate Water.
Nine years have passed since I last trod upon this pleasant land. Sadness and loss formed the backdrop of that visit. It took the wedding of a special family member and much coercing to get me to make the journey.
Time with family in celebration and basking in the warmth of friendship have made many happy memories.
In drinking deeply of the verdant oases of Swindon, Portishead and the surrounding countryside of Wiltshire and Somerset, I have renewed my love of England, country of my birth.
Invigorated and refreshed; we soon commence our return to Australia, via Italy.
I have a small obsession with water lilies, especially those in Port Douglas, Queensland, Australia. I particularly like the shades of green, purple and yellow in this picture.
Earth’s clear blue eyes hint at fathomless depths,
Ripples sparkle by moonlight, in sunshine,
Zigzag squiggles dance to an unheard song,
Rainbow patterns entice the weary soul.
Bubbles show momentary glimpse below,
Effervescent beads surge upwards, pop, pop.
Eddies undulate to sooth, to caress,
Soft touch belies a harsh fatality.
When the Sun starts its journey from directly overhead towards its setting in the west it is a challenge to find shade walking from Circular Quay to Bennelong Point, Sydney, NSW, Australia. The light was so bright on this day that I hadn’t realised that I’d chopped the front of the Carnival Spirit cruise ship off until I got home. Even so I achieved my objective of capturing the cool water bound shadow of the ship.
The appearance of the jet boat in the photograph is a pleasant accident.
The great green glory of nature is encapsulated in the hypnotic rustle and sway of the grasses, surrounding Coate Water.
theINFP 