her special place
will always be the pacific ocean
east coast nsw australia
her playground as a child
her wild and sacred place
her home
in the bogey hole
some dont seem as big
as before
she knew some secrets
that lie beneath the waves
wedged into the rocks
they are still there
floating on her back
she used to look up
at the silent planes so highmere specks in the sky
dreaming of visiting far away places
she did
she's back
she will never leave again
in a porsche
parked by the lake
she sat glued to her
mobile phone
engine running
air con on
like so many of them do
she does not see
the black swan or the cockies
having a punch up
over a bread crust found on the grass
or anything much at all really
unless it's on television
Michael Leunig
corellas (cockies )
black swans
beautiful elegant creatures
inspire composers to write cello pieces for them
gliding effortlessly across the lake
best to remember
nature is full of surprises
never to be underestimated
This poem is my response to earthweal weekly challenge: THE SWAN.
time for change
a new beginning
if we're lucky
if not
hang on tight
rough ride ahead
Hamlet I.v.186-190
the light wind
sighing through the broken branches
of the trees
was the colour of her dreams
she wept for all those who had passed
for those made homeless by the bush fires
for the animals and stock drowned in the swollen rivers
the weather patterns furious and vengeful
and was reminded of singing that song in primary school
i love a sunburnt country
a land of sweeping plains
of ragged mountain ranges
of droughts and flooding rains
i love her far horizons
i love her jewel sea
her beauty and her terror
the wide brown land for me
Australia
Australia
the wide brown land for me
little aussie battlers get through everything eventually
in the blue mountains
a rite of passage
for children of my generation
have not seen them for about
half a century
they have not aged a bit
China's Grandparents John and Ida
Aunts : Joan and Marjorie
Mother: Gwen
Three sisters in front of the Three Sisters Blue Mountains NSW circa 1920
long gone
a faded memory
in an old photograph
together and smiling
in a better place now
i am grateful
for having a childhood home with pets
i cannot image growing up
without them
i am grateful for
spending almost all my life
by the sea
i am grateful
for all my creative gifts
which have enabled me
to put food on the table
and provide fruit for the sideboard
i am grateful to my family
for their many sacrifices
and for being
the backdrop to my life
I am grateful
for being able to give love and feeling the joy
that flows from that
i am grateful for growing old
and for the first time not worrying or caring
what others think of me
i would have been allowed
to go out with this boy
he would not have
been interested anyway
in miss convent girl
of the lace hankies sensible shoes
and ginormous regulation bloomers
made up for it later on
i should ask her out
to celebrate new years eve with me
watch the fireworks drink champagne
must not get flustered be cool
she looks french
with her lovely red hair and jeanne d'arc costume
if she wants to french kiss me
i must not grimace
i' m in love with her already
i must be tenacious not caterwaul and complain
if she wants to get a taxi home at the end of the evening
no air con
spray bottles to wet shirts
ice packs under hats
mad dogs and englishmen
go out in the midday sun
mad aussies drive cars
without air con
the dogs are smarter
if only this were a distant youthful memory
come and gone
only the flowers remain
the testing kits are out of stock
the boosters are out of stock
omicron stays
wearing his little party hat
clapping his hands and laughing
the numbers are rising
the hospitals are bursting at the seams
everything stays open now
no restrictions
it's freedom you see
and most importantly
the economy
(mammons box of tricks)
must thrive
priority of a faux christian prime minister
priority of a faux christian state premier
meanwhile the white hot pitchfork
is awaiting them
protective clothing wont make a difference
Earthweal Open Link Weekend # 99
