Tag Archives: nature

Act of God

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Across this hopscotch land

strange days stretch out to sea,

where ancient forests stood,

now ails a lone pine tree,

spared from an Act of God,

not so children as they flee –

they are turned to ghosts

by what god, pray tell me?

Wild Conspiracies

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I wrote this in September for Gabrielle Bryden’s National Poetry Week Challenge.

For more animal-flavoured poetry check out Gabrielle Bryden’s Penguin Week series.

***

I ask scribbly gum moths:
Why this graffiti on trees?
“Mind your own business,
they’re just doodles, if you please”

I ask a plodding snail:
Why the squiggles on the path?
“There ain’t nothing in it –
I just do it for a laugh”

I ask the sly hyena:
Why the tunnels ‘neath the trail?
“Well! Installation art’s
not only for the snail!”

I ask the bower bird:
Why that hoard of shining bling?
“Oh, poppet, it’s no mystery
objets d’art are my thing”

I ask the primping zebra:
What’s with the barcode?
“Poor darling, don’t you know?
Stripes are back in vogue”

But, you know, I don’t believe them –
It’s a vast conspiracy
It’s clear that they are sending
secret messages to me…

***

Crystal Fear

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Photo by RIP - ©beeblu.wordpress.com

Above the clouds
the raven circles
below

the world turns
us down
to a fleeting kiss
of ground
in capricious wind’s riddle –
How to unstick gravity?

                      Pull up!
Pull up!

Maximum speed
unbraking hearts arrested
by clarity
a stark reality
in the whispering
of slow-motion minds –

Are              we                  unstuck?

And the raven hovers
and the world turns
and fear takes flight

Why?

Do I not care or
like others before
deny it’s the end
of my world turning?

Then the raven flies south
on flouncing wind
to drown brown lands

And so
we land

on a world
turning
without end

Weekly Photo Challenge: Hidden

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Nature hides then reveals its beauty

I took this photo at Myall Lakes last year of what appears to be a cicada that’s just emerged from its nymph shell. Unfortunately, the colour balance of the photo isn’t good even with a bit of doctoring but it gives an idea of the contrast between the packaging and its contents.

Cicada and nymph shell - Myall Lakes, NSW, Australia

And the  poem below is about the duplicitous side of human nature –  (it’s a re-post of one of my earliest on this blog).

Wicked

How witchlike a creature can I be
when the moth at a swipe digs its claws into me
and the blood in my veins cascades to the ground
and the thoughts in my head make no audible sound.

How witchlike a creature do I feel
when a table for two is a cannibals’ meal
and the eggs in the pantry go rotten inside
and the cow in the meadow eats its own hide.

How witchlike a creature do I seem
when the nightmare you chase is my sacred dream
when the pain in your heart is the pleasure in mine
when the warmth that you drink is a poisonous wine.

Everything is not what it seems
The smile on my face is the end to a means.

Special thanks to Gabrielle Bryden for guest-posting me on her blog this week  😀

Old Oaks

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Young oaks, fresh-leafed

uniformed
in naive acorn pride
stand tall in single file
guardians in memoriam
of those who died

– in Time –

gnarled with salt of tears
whorled in winds of sorrow
and furrowed with fires of rage
young grow old
in a different
age

toward the light, away from fear

with deferential bow
to a Callery Pear


Microcosmos

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Beauty at scale rarely seen
by human eye, but inbetween
lush blades of grass daily spy
a microworld of strange small fry

as this mini-jungle wakes
from dark of night, a lone ant slakes
his thirst from fresh dewdrops bright
reflecting snails in love’s delight

airfields of apian craft at ready
take flight from rouged poppies, heady
with blue jewels sparkling far and wide
on backs of bees on buzzing ride

a mighty dung beetle battles
sticks arresting rolling chattels
from onward journey, this daily testing
to construct his place of resting

inkblot-eyes of springtails watch
(in somersault) nymphs slowly hatch
themselves from deep and watery vault
and caterpillars as they moult

A miniverse that’s quite astounding,
with creatures, strange and weird, abounding

Rogue

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Once,

on a shimmering day,

I saw the sea fly up

Llandudno Beach

and swallow our sunwashed

detritus –

faded towels, Hang Ten slops, trashy

novels, footprints

ingested,

as we scramble-watched

it from the boulders,

churning back out to the horizon

with the indigestion

of our lives,

not looking back

to wave

Sky Wars

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Storm ions mass,

stir up old injuries,

swelling cats’ paws,

silencing cockatoos mid-screech.

In the particle zoo,

darker the light

settles stillness unsettling

like a spine tingle…

Then

an electric spear is thrown,

punctures the tension.

Fat clouds, slow on the uptake,

grumble to rain

to wash it away.