Sunday, July 31, 2016

Sarah St Vincent Welch #209 Strange frames v

(inspired by a section of Werner Herzog's 'Lo and behold')

a big solar storm
will simply shut
the world wide window

Susan Hawthorne #213 sing the world

if we could learn again
to sing the world
would it bring peace?

if we were to learn
to sing the world
would the world sing back to us?

if we learned as children
to sing the world
would our minds be different?

if as old people we knew how
to sing the world
would young ones listen?

Lies Van Gasse #210

(dag 1-199)

en je denkt, het is waar,
het is tijd.

De dag is zwart omrand.
Uit elkaar omhelzende kaders groeit een perspectief
dat je naar een andere dimensie leidt,

één waar verte iets is dat dichterbij komt
met de slag van een walvis, de hinkstapsprong

(day 1-199)

and you think, it’s true,
it’s time.

It's a black boxed day.
Embracing frames grow a perspective,
that leads you to another dimension
one in which distance is something that comes closer
with the stroke of a whale, the hop, step & jump

Efi Hatzimanolis #165 Wall Art

fanned featherblades
road cutting dentate
cockatoo crossing 

Janette Hoppe #3 Hine-nui-te-po


perhaps it is the incest
in the DNA
the breath of life
in an earth-made maiden

mud sticks
the shame of it
thick and viscous

all death and darkness
a lifetime of loneliness
much preferred than knowing

Note:  This poem is one of a series of poems that features myths and legends of my people.

*Hine-nui-te-po is the Goddess of death and night, the ruler of the underworld, the spirit world.
The myth tells that Tane (God of forests and birds) the son of  Ranginui (Sky Father) and Papatuanuku (Earth Mother) breathed life in to Hine-ahuone (Earth-made maiden) and procreated with her.  Their daughter was Hine-ata-uira (Maid of the Flashing Dawn a.k.a: Hine-tiitama) and took her to be his wife.  When Hine-atu-uira learnt that her husband was also her father she was ashamed and disgusted so she fled to the spirit world.  When Tane realised she was missing he went to search for her but Hine stopped him from entering and convinced him to return above ground to raise their children.  Maui tried to play a trick on Hine-nui-te-po in order to make mankind immortal by changing into a worm and entering her vagina and leaving through her mouth.  However, Hine became aware of his trickery and crushed him with her obsidian teeth in her vagina. 

Michele Morgan #204 imigh leat geimhreadh!

another weekend
howling storm, each day

Rob Schackne #33 - Bashō Was A Snowball

Bashō Was A Snowball

I just wrote a poem
about reaching space
at the speed of light

Three bags full of
cock and steam. I guess
that's all. Empty shovel

We'll remember
every memory to forget
the ones that are special

Enlightened thought
the chance that physics
has always waited for

Each possibility exists
somewhere. The translation
looks into a cold mirror

Bashō was a snowball
sharp-shooter of hats. But
that was then. It's still winter

I'm still writing. So
are you. The next one
comes at the speed of light.

#200 Kevin Brophy 'Burning the logs'

#200 ‘Burning the logs’

The fire began with a usual blaze and pop.
We sat around it.
We pushed logs further in
as talk pushed further
into the past.

We kept looking into it
as it demanded,
and it danced for us
even exploded a little for us.

In time, someone said,
each one of us
becomes an ancestor,
and we understand
this is a return to the present
as ash, as message, as reminder.

With diminishing pirouettes
and dying flourishes it threatened
to disappear
as we pulled our chairs in
our faces over its glow
our palms out in surrender to it.

Night a world at our backs
the past at last too vast
for anyone to find a thread,
someone found water,
the dark hissed in on us,

night was there all over the place again.

Rob Schackne #32 - An Ape's Raincoat

An Ape's Raincoat

No more going back
it's a playful galaxy
(all majestic dress)
stars are mine and thine and we
their celestial seawrack

Still more vintage wine
upon the leaning trellis
(takes a year to press)
a star gently climbs the stairs
as we wait to hear her sigh

Still more petrichor
on the breasts of a woman
(a star to caress)
who so loves each sleepy rain
her lover listens to her snore

Still more empty shells
that listen on the seashore
(still the seagulls' mess)
to time in its giggling core
pump stars from distant wells.

31.7.16 (#211) the shy girl by Myron Lysenko

the shy girl
pats an old Eastern Grey
Hanging Rock

Jeltje Fanoy #32 Wars

Wouldn't you like
to send the bill

for th effects of WW2,
on all of us, to somebody?

my miserable childhood,
spent, painfully, piecing

together th shards
that were my father,

we thought our father
was wilful, unpredictable,

a little crazy, at times,
out of touch, incapable

of understanding,
just when empathy

was needed th most,
something was amiss,

we had to tell him
th simplest things

over and over,
bridging th ruptures

left by his ECT,
he was responsive,

went along, enthusiastically,
basking in our love for him,

we were lucky. After WW1
many came home, to live out

th rest of their lives

in turmoil, reliving
th horrors they lived thru

again and again, out of sight,
and away from their children.

Kerri Shying R # 35.1 Adapting Grasses

Adapting Grasses

I took the candles off the table
wondered where to put them
so they can be used to light the wake

disease it’s like the reed
left dry in an old bassoon
too cracked too shrill

blowing off the tune
catching up your tongue
to tears

all reeds split in time
there is no more money
no more knowing
can get the supple back.

Red Cone (LF)#208-not a shadow

not a shadow

he stared at the shiny surface
he was only there when he looked
when he looked away he tried to smell
the other dog
not a shadow
a reflection without scent

today there is a lake out the front
the floods have come
inviting water fowl of all types
he sits and watches
they have a scent
that glassy surface reflects more birds
and it has a scent

all a dream really
as we slide from one image to another
shadows and reflections

Mikaela Castledine #205 Accordion Time

Accordion time
the squeeze and the expanded wheeze
wearing on the bended crease
go bellowing bellowing into each

All enfolded that lets you rub
up closer to the previous past than to
the just gone hours
with reedy rattle some breaths a last

We’ll concertina will we not
towards the end
in mazurka
in tarantella
with the dreadful squeezebox wail
into the pleated dancingdays of time

Robert Verdon, #224, Death and the Mynah

We are driving down David St O’Connor when we see a knot of mynah ‛pest’ birds in our path.
I beep the horn and they fly into the air briefly to let us through. 
Then we realise they have been clustered about an inert mynah face-up in the middle of the road. 
Has there been a fight? Were they about to dine?
Or like elephants and ourselves, do they recognise the dead?


Twa Corbies (trad.)

AS I was walking all alane
I heard twa corbies makin' a mane:
The tane unto the tither did say,
Whar sall we gang and dine the day?

‛— In behint yon auld fail dyke
I wot there lies a new-slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there
But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady’s ta’en anither mate,
So we may mak our dinner sweet.

Ye’ll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I’ll pike out his bonny blue e’en:
And wi’ ae lock o’ his gowden hair
We’ll theek our nest when it grows bare.

Mony a one for him maks mane,
But nane sall ken whar he is gane:
O’er his white banes, when they are bare
The wind sall blaw for evermair.

Julie McElhone #32 Buoyance

Before winter set in fully
I swam in the sea pool
at Austinmer. And figured 
myself to be detritus
of the sea
along with seeds and weeds.
Then a shivering molecule
that could freeze and boil
evaporating into air
and moving up across 
the escarpment.
But I did not believe
myself better than
the sea slug snuggled
in the pool wall
just because my mind
could take flight.
The sea contained us both.

Kerri Shying R # 35 Sphere of Influence

Sphere of Influence

What shape does worry make
if you pour it
raw like candle wax
corn polenta

let it set

Never so successful as a circle
all those inlets
grottoes, follies

the medium where the sea monkeys
from the comic books of youth
flock to grow

Michele Elliot #31: collective anxiety (xxxi)

I was worried it might be angina.

Oh I had that before ... its fine, please don’t worry.

You are my oldest and wisest patient, what can I tell a 93 year old about how to live. Just come and see me when you need help.

Kit Kelen #213 - time out of mind (notes towards a theory of presence)

time out of mind
(towards a theory of presence)

time for everything upon us now
all collected here

collect your thoughts
this ink's an instance
says what's seen

you watch the one leaf down
or it's a certain meteor
eye catches because
you happen there

mist most
web wove
day begun dripping

time takes down its pants
and shows you a thing or two

all aches it is
and clench of cold
when seasons are got up
that goes
seasons set us back

there's the motor hum
one distance is as any other

birds are best oblivious

the job to do is urgent
the world to change
now ours

beyond the measure of things
of course there is the future tense
tombstone time mainly
and out beyond the forward estimates
not much can be known

the past is much this way
dead already there

time out of mind!

a certain posture's taken up
with trying not to think

that's succeeded by the mad dash
and generally from brink to brink

when aren't the trees how they've decided?
doesn't the sun take a rise out of us?

the time for everything is now
and swim through it until you sink
won't matter much just how

stop in the on-the-way place
cup of tea perhaps
and afternoon's all middle
ripe centuries couch there
yellow as pages too lazy to turn

time is on my side
and you'll come running back to me

you think of being here as absence
every breath a little exile

remember the gone, the fallen, the lost

listen hard
(even with the noise cancelling headphones)
and you'll know there isn't a moment's silence

time for everything is with us
words will make a mess of it

all miracles are of the moment
there isn't any hindsight with them

rotate your hips around an ache
be fond of best advice

the moment is the miracle
and happen to be in it

how'd you do?
and then we're gone

must be to a better world