A bird is a bird is a bird
This still morning
reverberates musical notes
of the plain grey Thrush
far away an avian answer
we have lost the way
of translating these liquid notes.
the ring-necked dove calls
I'm doctor who, I'm doctor who
far away its mate calls
Is this true, is this true
limp hangs the washing on the line.......
stop stomping around
looking through windows
going outdoors to look at the Moon
annoyed it cannot be seen
through the overcast sky hiding
stars as well
come back to bed to hear the magpies sing.....
Rising Sun
watched Day having breakfast
admiring gold light on trevi fountain
Later Morning carried coffee
front verandah, watching
maned geese puddle pond water
till Noon announced lunch
Shalako had hay
Afternoon brought a bevy of books
forget all domestic chores
foreign lands are fascinating
till Day announced whisky time
dinner, red wine, port
so to bed
we loved that day......
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black and white
standing gazing at the
bounteous sea
longing for nothing
only to be.....
large yellow in the East
peering through the partly
drawn curtains
saw Sleep tussling with a pillow
sheet arguing with the blankets
heard shouting
for Cramp had hold of feet
Sleep slumping in despair
till finally rosy Dawn
spread her pink fingers
pointing at the Moon
to sink into
the stormy highway of the fishes
Sleep slept in exhausted ..........
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the rain is drumming
on the roof soaking the black soil
rainbow lorikeets
here is Wednesday's haiku ....after all the rain we had Monday night
I do just want to explain about using the Anonymous comment section
because as you press the Publish button it won't show on that page,
as it is sent to me to
approve and I then tick it and it will appear under the comment section.
Also if you click on the photo it will enlarge it for you to have a better view of it
Thank you all for reading my blogs....
Well, hello, this is all about a poem I found yesterday
while looking for something else.....which I wrote years ago......
this cursor of course has a mind of its own
as usual, so the photos won't probably match the writing. It was about Autumn then, but my photos will show Spring.
The reference to the perch was when we lived in Inman Valley and was to do with Swallows on our porch....
So bear with me....
Trees shedding
leaves last season's nest naked
the architect had no hands
twisting twigs grasses
a piece of black bindertwine
into a tennis ball sized place
a demitasse
precisely woven, lined with down
merino wool
sits on top of an upturned
cotton mop the floors were never
washed that summer
a muddy nest knocked down repeatedly
till shame puts up a perch
newspaper to catch the shit
wobbly blackheaded yellow beaks agape
slowly rising like dough in a pudding basin
feathered bodies spilling over the rim
furiously flapping fragile wings
they've fledged gone swimming the winds
in joyous flight
leaves answering the storms commands
drop in untidy heaps .....
