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Untold Day

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...Memories stitched with ragged seams.

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Masks
 

lily pads

double by day

the pond

is half covered

the day before it suffocates

 

patterns

on the internet

the news pressed

into our layered dreams

until we have forgotten what they mean

 

my neighbour

denying science

is provoked

by women with covered faces

and my blue peonies

on a languid

locked-down afternoon

Bob Dylan

says truth comes

from behind a mask

 

a flotilla

of fabric boats on my desk

soft enough

to be flattened, strong enough

to weather the coming storm

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Billabong


The kite sky anchored to the lake

by the lone ghost gum on the shore

A heron dives into the moon

and the silvered fish fly before

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Bumble Bee
 

When I think of improbable things
There’s the virus
Space
The bumble bee
And you

 

Excerpt from "Bumble Bee" poem

Honey Bee and African Daisies - Shakespeare Regional Park, New Zealand

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Dawn Cat vs

   The Dream Weaver
 

Stealthy feline dawn comes pawing

Round the curtains, stalking night

Dark retreats, defeated, slinking

Sinking Westwards out of sight.

 

Round the world the night goes prowling

Different minds, indifferent dreams

Tugging mismatched threads of conscious

Memories stitched with ragged seams.

 

Warp and weft, forgotten tendrils

Weaving fabrics of the mind

Silent fades the nightly weaver

Leaving wisps for dawn to find.

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First Day 

      of Spring

 

The dog bounds ahead leaving dark hollows

in the silvered grass

Our footsteps fall together

with the soft crunch of breaking ice.

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My hand, still numb from the recent frost,

snakes into your pocket,

Your fingers curl round mine

enveloping me in silent warmth.

 

A wattle catches the first rays

as the morning star fades

Diamonds drip from softening buds

we call the dog and turn our feet to home

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Winter Solstice

 

The comedy and tragedy of earth
That love must be the midwife at our birth
All that’s broken, all that is attained
Love is by a greater love contained
 
The echo heard in every song I sing
There’s darkness at the heart of everything
The pieces, incomplete can’t be returned
And peace is the belief that it is earned
 
A trail of broken glass on paths of sin
Each fragment holds a rainbow shard within
Each birth is heralded with newborn cries
The earth exerts its claims on all that dies
 
The solstice lends the strength to lighter skies
And lengthening of days which hold goodbyes
We build the places where all our lives belong
And leave the space for breath within the song

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The Settlement

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Everything still seems newly made,

we explore the boundaries

round the harbour shore

feel soft edges give way, reform

each wave a broken imitation

of the ones before.

 

I kneel before a kookaburra, canned

inside a rusted shell of art.

The sculpture speaks of past, we listen

as the long-dead bird laughs on.

​

My hand holds atoms of a quill, every word

already spoken, every song already sung

You are bright with the knowledge

Held by elders and the stars.

 

The debt must be repaid

We advance, retreat,

advance.

Our path is newly made.

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The Settlement Webpage Background.png

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