Twitter bits – make what you will

hesitantly
stalactites creep
towards stalagmites
dreaming
of columns

a universal sigh
you get
the picture

disoriented
drawn by desire
pips fall to the earth

was I gone too long
now forgotten …

I hurled myself
into an abyss
the universe
caught me
by the feet

have I lost my reach
can I still touch your senses?

tentatively
she lost herself
his eyes
smooth pebbles
whirlpooling

I catch my breath
hold it close a moment
and hurl it forth
watching seagulls fly
into the blue beyond

the promise of new love
beckoned
she hurled herself
into making art
instead

 

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Small Stones in early July

July 2

doggie needs to pee
the door creaks open
protesting the cold air
wafting as
the central heating
blasts warmth
on a cold winter’s
July night

July 4

I was on Facebook tonight and I saw a post from Yoko Ono’s page so I followed her link to a review about her book Acorns (http://www.vogue.com/culture/article/plant-a-seed-yoko-onos-acorn/#1). The article talks about the acorns she and John Lennon planted back in 1968 and their vision of living sculptures around the world of paired oak trees. There is an extract from her book in the article about listening to what other people are thinking  … nice playful irony I thought and so wabi sabi … it reminded me of the invisibility of listening, how I tried to understand this phenomenon over a decade ago through my doctoral dissertation and how I struggled to express my meandering thoughts through academic writing  … anyway her poem triggered a chain reaction in my brain. Below is my spontaneous play on her words.

Listen to the raging wind outside my door
Listen to the wind outside your window
Listen to the wind swirling from the sun
Listen to your climate system
Can you hear the turning of the ground …

July 5

my ear hairs bristle
biting wind blows through
southern cross glitter

July 8

steaming chicken soup
a balm for weary bones
chewy whole grain rice

sighs turn to comfort
spoon clinks an emptied bowl
ghosts leave haunted eyes

Harbour

The street runs like a dark mist,
rain swiftly catches cold,
streetlights grab the sidewalk,
an embrace of stone necessity.

A hooded faceless figure
throws a still glowing cigarette
into the flowing gutter – phssst
– extinguished now
they ride the pipes together
to the underworld.

A lonely rat sniffs a roller-door,
whiskers slick against his cheeks,
I step aside and find the moon
on the other side of my umbrella.

Strains of cheerful chatter
beckon from just around the corner,
with purpose now, I stride afresh
towards the harbour of my love’s face.

Late Spring Evening

Moonlight catches a cobweb
in the orbs of your eyes.

Wistful memories lurk
on intersections.

Someone else’s thoughts
waft between the clouds.

Cats sigh as delicious dark
oozes through screen doors.

The sound of counterfeit rain,
the hose makes streetlight rainbows.

Grass blades tickle toe whorls
as they spring up after each step.

The concrete footpath is cool
and smooth beneath the soles.

A tree rustles, a paw, a nose,
a possum munches guava flowers.

A young woman gets in her car
complaining on her mobile phone.

A moment later, she squeals the tires,
on the wires above, a possum crosses.

The moon has risen high
above the roofs, glinting on the tiles.

OpenLinkNight — Week 72

Little Pebbles

Well worn path
split melon halves
a snail’s silver gleams
_________

Sunny afternoon
slanted rays winking
traffic hums
_________

Silver patterned clouds
float on charcoal velvet
light shines through the holes
_________

Door mat dreams
flying carpet
in the draught
_________

Street lights
tickle the moon
splashing in puddles
________

Words escape
moon doesn’t blink
in silence

________

Watching thoughts flow
across the surface of the moon
my feet are cold