Affection

                                                                 Affection is a dog

                                                                  black and white

                                                                  standing gazing at the 

                                                                   bounteous sea

                                                                    longing for nothing

                                                                    only to be.....    

When is a Dark Night not a Dark Night

The full Moon rose

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 ..........

 

Lots of Rain....

                                                                            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.... 

On Looking Back....

                                                                                    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 .....                                                                                                                          

 

That Wonderful Word "Nor"

One man and his cohorts

may be trying to destroy the world

as we know it, causing grief 

to millions of people 

Behold....

he cannot stop the sun from rising

Nor the warbling dawn chorus of the Magpies

 

 

Nor the cackling laughter of the Kookaburras 

Nor the Wood ducks from raising their delightful little families

Nor the crops from growing 

after this most welcome rain 

Nor our delight in absorbing 

another vivid, awesome sunset

and clouds with silver linings

Welcome each Day...... 

 

Once again Blogger has not allowed me to write the text next to the photos which is very frustrating.... so hope whoever reads this will understand the sequence of the text with the accompanying photos.....

 

You can comment if you wish by using Anonymous

haiku for Monday morning and a troubled world

                                                     dense fog hides far hills

                                                    gum trees loom large in the gloom

                                                    sun heralds pink dawn

 

 

 

Looking at my garden each morning gives me a more even keel for the day ahead 

in these days of such astonishing changes and challenges, so I write haiku and send them to my friends

hoping it may make them smile also........

I would love you to comment, please use the Anonymous  if you don't have a Google account

and click on the photo for a closer look....

haiku for Thursday

                                                 kookaburra lands

                                                eyeing one gold fish in pond

                                                 frogs croak rain coming 

haiku for Sunday Mothers Day

                                                         maned geese sleep here

                                                           eye closed for five seconds

                                                            truly a cat nap  

Thursday haiku

                                                     the kookaburras

                                                        laughing in wisteria tree

                                                            calm sunshiny morn 

Hope is a Constant

Did we float with this tide of fake news.......or did we swim against it

Did we hope for goodness

or did we manifest it by our own

ordinary acts of bravery

in standing still to abide

yet grew strong because

we dared stand still facing

whatever we had to face

Hope is ever a constant..... 

 

Cinquain

                                                            Leveret

                                                            Young agile

                                                            Zigging and zagging

                                                            Love it's startled look

                                                                Hare

Cinquain is a short poem or Stanza of five lines

1. one word naming the subject

2.two words (adjectives) describing the subject

3.three words (verbs)describing the subjects' action

4.four words giving the writer's opinion of the subject

5.one word (noun) giving another name for the subject

 

A Leveret is a young hare and we have one living in our garden 

at present and it is such a joy to watch it doing the rounds.

I love short verse....

Should you like to comment, you can use the anonymous button and also push the publish button so it will be sent to me to be approved....
             

Climate Change......

                                            My love hits the stone wall again and again

                                            Why try at all?

                                            Were we not born to love?

                                            It rages in the end

                                            bashing its saltwater tears

                                            in great waves upon the unresponsive black rocks

                                            of a shore so hostile, nothing will penetrate it

                                            nothing will crumble it, not even in the end of time

                                            Oh, how indifference kills us all..... 

                                            Look elsewhere then, flow up the shore

                                            and soak into the sand

                                            which receives so gladly

                                            slurping it up as though there is no end to love

                                            neither there is.

                                            the anger has a purpose now,

                                            soak the sand, leave the rocks

                                            to wish for the soothing 

                                            of the salt water waves, they will

                                            no longer come

                                            climate change you know..... 

 

PS I found this writing of 2008  in a book I found this morning looking for other things....like you do!

If you would like to comment, please do so by using the Anonymous tag and add your initials so I know who you are.....also don't forget to hit the Publish button because then it is sent to me for approval.....

                                             

                                             

Wisdom in the age of anxiety....

                                                 Shall we pray for Wisdom

                                                to not know what we think we know

                                                to see the wisdom of the tree

                                                which lives fully empowered 

                                                by the earth its roots silently

                                                nourishing not only itself

                                                but its neighbors also

                                                giving shelter freely to birds

                                                shading big and little creatures

                                                 in its collected compost

                                                so ancient a recycling 

                                                of its discarded and released leaves

                                                of exhausted helpfulness

                                                to absorb its silence

                                                is to be content...... 

The Mystery of it All

 
 Trees embrace each other 

in the wild winds joining

their leaves and branches

in exuberant forgetfulness

that their limbs may be torn 

thrown to the ground

their bark in such colourful 

profusion on the earth below

making shelter for the little

creatures scuffling underneath

the silence and the mystery of it all...... 

haiku for Friday

 

        mosquito whining now

        sleep has gone walkabout

        hand on the flyswat 

Shearing time Riding home Hughes Park 1965

                        
                                                 Tall, thick trunked yet

                                                elegantly limbed Blue gums

                                                Golden on the side of the setting sun

                                                their shadows giving deep resonance 

                                                to space and line

                                                Weaving through, a Stockman

                                                on a lightly stepping Golden horse

                                                red Kelpie at heel, sheep mustered

                                                homeward bound for a shower

                                                Brandy and Dry , mutton dinner

                                                cooked on a wood stove, wine

                                                Perhaps a sweet jam roly 

                                                with Mrs Edwards fresh cream.....

                                                Bed! 

 

                                                 

Frogs....

                                                        frogs croaking sonnets 

                                                        night full of splashing water

                                                        live foam come morning
 

More Teritorial Disputes II

The Horse is watching the kangaroos in the evening light. Don't you dare come into my paddock he thinks, this is my paddock the bossman told me. He sowed it with fresh pasture seed and it will be feed for me this coming summer.

The Horse knows kangaroos have big feet which will flatten the crop if they get in and loll around in it. 

I have hard feet thinks the Horse and have metal shoes on which the farrier comes and takes off every six weeks. He trims my hooves thinks the Horse and nails the iron shoes back on. Sometimes when the farrier does this I turn my head and nuzzle the straps of his leather apron or his head if it is near enough.

The sun is low on the horizon thinks the Horse and my feed will surely be put into the feed bin hanging on the wall of my shelter shed.  Chaff and bran and applecider vinegar mixed with warm water if the night is going to be cold. I will push my muzzle in right up to my nostrils, it is so good....

 Tonight the mother of the bossman is feeding me, she tells me the bossman is far away working twelve hour shifts in the mine where he works earning money to buy feed for me. Hay is very expensive these days because of the drought.... Have a good night ,she tells me, and be kind to the kangaroos.......

haiku for Wordly turmoil

                                                     clouds smile across skies

                                                    winds sculpt fantastic images

                                                    no noise calm silence 

 

Behold!!!!!

Behold the Pond

Overflowing with goodness 

of rain

Playground of ducks

Haven for frogs

and the memory of drought fades

the fish swims in gratitude......