Wild Fridays: Deaths and Entrances

This is the Death card from the Voyager™ Tarot (my favourite deck to read with professionally) along with the beautiful image on the backs of these cards, which is a cross-section of our DNA. (Death, it seems, might be encoded into our DNA ... inevitable. Or is it merely change?)

This is not the traditional skeleton figure of most Tarots (wielding a scythe or riding a white horse, depending on the deck) but it does show images suggesting profound grief, finality, and even a hint of terror.

However the Death card doesn't refer to physical mortality; it uses that concept in a symbolic sense to denote the death of an old way of life or an old way of being. Furthermore, the message of the Death card is Rebirth, Transformation. Any drastic change is liable to occasion grief, even when it is self-chosen. We must respect that grief, but we're not supposed to get stuck and wallow in it; we're supposed to come out the other side, into something new. Carrying on the symbolism: we're supposed to be reborn.

And so farewell, 2019

As we come to the end of this year at Poets United, we find ourselves facing the ending of some things about the way we have been, as well as the new beginnings that must follow. We contemplate all this with some grief for what is over, the realisation that such changes are inevitable, and the prospect of an exciting new future.

Above all, of course, we mourn the departure of four of our staff members. I've been researching our early posts for the little History segment I've recently included (see links at top of page). I've been here a long time but wasn't quite in on the beginning, so even though I greatly value Mary and Sherry's contribution to this community, I hadn't realised the full extent of it. Robert Lloyd, who founded Poets United, credited them with being the backbone of it when he was creating and developing it. When he had to leave his own creation after only a couple of years, he left it in their capable hands. It's they who are responsible for Poets United being the wonderful home it has been for us all over the ensuing years. 

I came on staff shortly before Robert left. Mary and Sherry made this newbie very welcome and were unfailingly supportive ever after. I've come to realise that they have gone out of their way to encourage many members of our community who needed a bit of personal reassurance. (If you're a new poet starting out, or one who has worked mostly solitary before, jumping in here can feel daunting.)

Then Susan and a little later Sumana joined our staff, completely aligned with the values we already had, and adding their own unique flavours to the mix. 

All these women have looked after us very well! The fact that each is a wonderful poet in her own individual style points to the diversity and inclusivity of this community – as well as its nurturing effect on our skills, allowing us to grow in our craft. We owe them a huge debt of gratitude.

I look back now and think, 'How DID they manage to keep going so long?' And doing such a wonderful job while they were at it! Much as we'll miss their guidance, we can't grudge them time to focus more on their own lives and writings.

It was fortuitous that Magaly and Sanaa had recently come on board, bringing enthusiastic new energy. Then we twisted Rommy's arm (very gently ... well actually we didn't even have to) and she joined us. All the staff, including those retiring, were unanimous that she was the right choice. 

Onwards in 2020

In another sense, we're not losing anyone. Our retiring staff members are not resigning from the community as a whole. We'll look forward to seeing them around, just not in the same capacity.

We've been discussing various options as to who does what in future, and decided I'll stick to the Wild Fridays (where you never know beforehand which topic I'll come up with on any particular Friday) while Magaly will look after us on Sundays and Sanaa and Rommy will take it in turns to come up with the Wednesday prompts. It's always been the case that the Poets United team members have each other's backs; so if any of us has an emergency and can't do one of our regular days, we'll yell for help and one of the others will step in.

Elsewhere

Our sister site, 'imaginary garden with real toads', was also started by Robert Lloyd and then handed over in 2011 to Kerry O'Connor, who has run it so brilliantly ever since, with the help of several other wonderful poets. I and many others have loved their very creative prompts and the high calibre of poetry to be found there. 

Coincidentally that too is now coming to an end – not merely a change of staff but a discontinuation. Kerry has announced that the final post there will be on 30th December. 'All good things ...' as they say. I'm sure many will be feeling sad about that, me for one. I always enjoyed playing there as well as here. Many of you have done the same.

Fortunately the site will remain online as an archive. And what a wonderful resource it will be! It has already been a place I've liked to explore when stuck for inspiration. I'm very glad I'll still be able to do that for years to come.

(Following their good example, we're going to be getting our own archives into order in the near future, so they may always be revisited.)

Meanwhile ...

We here haven't quite bowed out of 2019 yet. Magaly has a final Poetry Pantry for you this coming Sunday. Then it's holiday time until January 5th, the first Sunday of the New Year, when we welcome you back again.

Don't be surprised if you see some changes then to the way we look. We've been using this version of Blogger for a long time – and it includes some aspects that aren't even part of Blogger itself, but were brought over from a Yahoo group which our founder Robb Lloyd once administered (the precursor to this community). It's been getting rather clunky behind the scenes; time to update. We have plans to make it sleeker and more pleasing to the eye, while at the same time more navigable: more user-friendly for both staff and participants.

Post-script

How ironic that at this point some of us (I for one) have been having trouble with the last Midweek Motif, unable to leave comments or access people's linked poems. I know several of you have been experiencing similar frustrations. 

I fared a little better on my tablet than my laptop. On the tablet I can at least access and read everyone's poems. I still can't leave comments at the PU blog, nor on your poems if you're using Blogger. However, I have been able to comment on Wordpress blogs – so it's evidently a Blogger issue. 

Neither Magaly nor I could find a problem with the html coding, the first place either of us thought to look, nor with Settings etc. We believe it's to do with some updating which we're aware that Blogger is carrying out at the moment, and will shortly be resolved.

Thanks for your patience, folks. Hang in there! 

Note: Deaths and Entrances is the title of a book of poems by Dylan Thomas, published in 1946, focusing on the conjunction of birth and death. (The title poem and others reference World War II, which had recently ended.)

Wild Fridays: Roving the Web

 Advance notice – we're going on vacation! (Not immediately, but soon.) 

What that looks like may depend on where one lives.

(First image Public Domain, second mine.)

As usual, we'll take two weeks off over Christmas and New Year.  The Pantry on Sunday the 22nd will be our last post for this year. We'll start 2020 with a new Pantry, on Sunday January 5th.

I hope you'll all be too busy enjoying yourselves to have withdrawal symptoms. But just in case, here are some things that might amuse you during the break:

Inventiveness

My friend Helen Patrice, whom I've featured here a few times, is both poet and storyteller. She has written poems, short stories, novels, articles and memoir, a lot of them published. At her Blog of a Witch, this recent post includes a number of good tips for starting a story and keeping on going with it. Though she refers to prose in this instance, many of them could apply equally well to poetry. You can either skip over the personal stuff they're embedded in, or read it all for the entertainment value. (I always find Helen very readable.)

Many of you are already familiar with Carpe Diem, the site where Dutch haiku poet 'Chevrefeuille' keeps coming up with innovative new ways to approach the writing of haiku and related forms (though he doesn't tamper with the actual form). He provides prompts, and the opportunity to link our responses. I dip in and out of this site, sometimes forgetting all about it – but if I'm stuck, it's a very good place to go for inspiration. Bonus: I always find a few Poets United friends participating too.

Good reading

As I have shared in some previous posts, I like my quick fix of daily poetry in the email inbox – from the sites below in particular.

The first two also take submissions. I keep meaning to send something! If you are not such a procrastinator as me, you might like to give it a try. Or just enjoy reading: a sweet start to the day. (Sometimes familiar names pop up at either of these sites; just recently I was delighted to encounter a one sentence poem by a certain Ron. Lavalette.)  

TINYWORDS haiku and other small poems

One Sentence Poems 

Poem-a-Day

Knopf Poetry also offers a poem a day, but only during the April poetry month – but you could sign up for that now, while you think of it (and I think to suggest it). They are always wonderful, sometimes include free broadsheets to download and/or sound recordings to listen to, as well as referring you to the poet's latest books. Of course, once you click on the site, you can have a good browse right there, right now, of the many poems already shared.

The Morning Porch/Patio A blog of sentences by one Dave Bonta, observing the world around him over his morning coffee, particularly the natural world. I find these snippets entertaining in all sorts of ways. They originate as twitter posts, therefore are 140 characters or fewer (regardless of the fact that twitter has now upped its limit to 280). Some people use them as prompts, so if you're having withdrawal symptoms, there's an idea. This used to be called just The Morning Porch – based in his rural home in America (Pennsylvania) – but he now spends part of the year in England, mainly in London, as he is married to a British woman.

Attending to other aspects of life

(While you've got some extra time to do that.)

Zen Habits is a famous blog by Leo Babauta, on mindfulness and simplifying one's life. He began this years ago, and so many people found it useful that he has now written books on the principles, and also shares them on facebook and twitter, and even offers some courses in acquiring new habits. You can jump in at the latest post, or go back and explore the archives. It's all good value. Do I put all his good advice into practice myself? Well no, but he's easy to read, makes good sense, and some of it sticks.

Dear Earth: free e-course from Satya Robyn (the woman who invented the 'small stones' way of mindful writing). This is a gentle 28-day way to 'make space for grounding and creativity', 'come into a closer relationship with our beautiful earth', and, if you choose, find out more about the environmental crisis and what you might do about it. But it won't tell you what to do. Satya believes 'change is only sustainable when we allow ourselves to be transformed from the inside out, slowly and gently'. Or, if you prefer, you might skip the course and just enjoy reading Satya's own Love Letters to the Planet.

******************

But we're not quite on holidays yet, so do stick around for the treats still in store right here before the year ends: one more Midweek Motif, one more Wild Friday, and one more Pantry of Poetry and Prose. (And maybe we'll whet your appetites with some hints of what's to come in 2020.)

Material shared here is presented for study and review. Poems, photos, and other writings and images remain the property of the copyright owners, usually the authors.

Note: I've had to belatedly remove the photo of feet toasting by a fire when it suddenly acquired a 'Copyright' mark across it, and replace it with a different fireside image of my own. I thought I'd bought its use but apparently only for a very limited time. I'm annoyed this wasn't made clearer, especially as it was initially listed as Public Domain, but....

Wild Fridays: Poems of the Week

Celebrating Susan and Sumana

– who have been our Midweek Motif hosts for so long. It's sad to see them step down from that role which they have filled so beautifully, with so much thought and so much heart. Changes in both their lives came coincidentally at about the same time, bringing a need to refocus their energies elsewhere. They generously decided to stay on until the end of the year, after Mary and Sherry's retirement, giving the new team more time to settle in. And they assure us that, although they won't be hosting any more, they will still be writing and posting.

How much I've always enjoyed the poems of each of these poets – equally thoughtful, spiritual and life-affirming, yet different in style. 

They also, of course, experience marked differences in geography and culture, yet have worked together as a team-within-a-team, preparing and hosting the Midweek Motif prompts with ongoing behind-the-scenes collaboration – another example of how Poets United (the staff and the wider community) has been able to create a harmonious common ground for us all.

Choosing one favourite poem from each of these poets would have been impossible, because there are so many I could include! I picked these first two (both posted to their blogs earlier this year) partly because, in showing their individual yet shared love of life, even in its smallest details, they also exemplify aspects of their different societies and lifestyles.

Here is Sumana longing for rain:

DANCE 

– Sumana Roy

I miss your visual splendour-

your kohl-eye, telling stories-

your swift pirouettes in the wind-

your enthralling foot-work-

did your ghungroos (anklet) have hundred bells

like the Kathak dancers?

Wasn’t I mesmerized hearing the dance steps

on glossy, green leaves; on metal shades?

the touch of those graceful hands

blossomed Kadam flowers-

your odhni (veil) of cloud

seemed infinite-

where are you my pretty, danseuse?

Have we killed you

like the colonial British trying to smother

the Kathak dance

calling its practitioners ‘nautch girls’; harlots

in contemptuous fun?

In our desert homes

we are missing you sorely-

Sumana added in a note:
[Whatever I try to write now it leads to the rain-less days we are living here. So my Kathak dancer is the monsoon here.]


Sumana, we here in Australia can very much relate to such a longing, as we have been suffering a serious drought for a number of years. I know other places around the world, including parts of America, are in a similar plight. I hope your plea may act as  a prayer!

Then we see Susan enjoying both friendship and solitude:

After an Evening with Friends  

– Susan Chast

After fudge and cream on brownies, after

the last delicious kiss goodnight,

after the train deposits you

a mere half mile away—

you walk. The door opens

and closes. Then, 

do you, too, sigh,

perk up, rally to spend

time with yourself at last,

to catch up on quiet and joy?

Home’s divine solitude settles

like gold dust, surrounds like Bach cello suites.

Susan, you take us straight into both feelings with marvellous economy of well-chosen words! I feel with you the pleasures of such an evening of good food with congenial friends, then the bliss of 'home's divine solitude'. Having lived alone for the past seven years, maintaining an active social life yet also relishing my periods of solitude, I can say a big 'Yes!' to both verses. 


Perhaps the overriding quality I receive from Sumana's poetry is gentleness; from Susan's integrity. For me these are their signature characteristics – but of course no-one can be categorised by just one quality; I don't mean to suggest the poems are not varied.

I see both, also, as women of great resilience.

Here is Susan coping with the 'writer's slump' we all experience from time to time, yet using it – with great wisdom – to reconnect with the source of inspiration, in faith that it is indeed so:

What a Writing Slump Is

A hole I slide into, below

the surface of consciousness, I say—

But my body protests:

It’s a hole you want to dig but can’t.

You’re slumping, and haven’t the strength

to wield a shovel to break through

the surface of consciousness.

The hard ground won’t receive the seed. 

No, I reply, trust me:

The seed is there with fledgling roots, 

but the hole is too deep for the stem to reach 

the edge where I could translate through arms, 

eyes and hands into the light.  Instead of floating 

over the hole, notebook and keyboard—I am

inside, as close to the seedling as possible. 

I slide into the hole, below

the surface of consciousness, I say—

and slump there for a long long time.

And Sumana lifting herself up via the words of the famous Indian poet Tagore, whom she so loves and admires (some of whose work she has translated):

Tagore

Your words are the buzz-song

of a bee–

dripping sweetness unto

my tattered soul–

I have morphed into

a thousand honeycomb

holding your nectar–

the world isn't all honey–

when it stings I sing your forever song

to be lifted up, to fly

with my newly grown wings–


Susan replies:

Rosemary, thank you for choosing my poem “After an Evening with Friends” for this sweet feature with Sumana.  You, she, and Poets United have been with me many of these luscious evenings.  And then, “What a Writing Slump is”! I am not slumping now, but I know the hole, seeds and roots intimately. 

I love Poets United.  I loved working with the old team and look forward to changes the new team will bring.  Based on what you have already done, I know PU will continue to nourish poets and writers in exciting ways.  Poets United nourished me at a time when my confidence in blogging my poems was flagging.  Then you, Mary, and Sherry wholeheartedly invited me to join the team after Kim Nelson's year.  The new weekly Midweek Motif built on Kim's success.  And just when I was feeling overwhelmed, Mary suggested that I share Midweek Motif with Sumana Roy.  I soon became enchanted with her poetry and choices, and we became partners here.  I felt my life blessed ever since.  (Truly, Sumana. Poems like your Respect from 2017 live in my home. And I want to use your Tagore translations forever!) 

Now, I hope to put my creative time into writing. In addition, I've come out of retirement to substitute teach, and I am co-leading a spiritual nurture program through my Quaker meeting. I expect to join the poets who blog here quite often. Throughout the years, your poetry and commentary have been good company. 


And Sumana says:

I feel so honored to be featured with Susan in your Poems of the Week, here at Poets United, Rosemary. Thank you so much. Yes, it’s been a wonderful journey with you all. I enjoyed my every moment being here. Thematic prompts always motivate me to write my lines and it was so amazing to see all the insightful responses from the poets from all over the world to such prompts. And such a dream team of partners! I can’t thank Mary enough for offering me to be a part of the Midweek Motifs with Susan. Aah…those behind-the-scene chats with Susan for Midweek motifs! And who can ever forget all those sun-shine words from all of you during my cloudy days! I am ever so grateful to each of you for being with me during my hard hours.

Wish you all my best.

And thank you once again Rosemary for selecting the poem Dance. This poem is definitely a sigh of exasperation only an Indian summer and a forgetful Monsoon could bring about. 

I am so very obsessed with Tagore! And what a delight you’ve chosen this poem also for this feature. It’s a little tribute to my poet who has become a shelter to me specially after those stormy nights. At present I am reading a memoir of Tagore in Bengali. Name of the book is : Swarger Kachhakachhi by Maitreyee Devi. Meaning of the book title is ‘Close to Heaven’. No title could be more appropriate.

Though now most of my time is occupied with extreme traveling I still have managed some space for reading and diving once again into the translation of Tagore’s songs.

***********

I'm sure you'll all be glad (but not surprised) to know that these two exceptional poets, who have become our dear friends through their many months of hosting Midweek Motif, will still be very much engaged with poetry, and that we may continue to see them here sharing their wise and beautiful words.

Material shared in this post is presented for study and review. Poems, photos, and other writings and images remain the property of the copyright owners, usually the authors.

Wild Fridays: Moonlight Musings

Process and Product

I was having a facebook chat with Jasmine Logan (whom I featured here recently) when she accidentally sent me a photo of a whiteboard she was working on, mapping out a new poem. (She only meant to snap it for her own records.) When I say mapping, I mean mind-mapping.

I've known of this technique since first encountering it decades ago in the book 'Writing the Natural Way' by Gabriele Lusser Rico. She called it clustering. Here is an example from her book:

Since then it's taken off, been used for many different purposes besides writing, and is taught in schools. It's decades since I tried it as a writing tool, and then only briefly. I did the exercises in Rico's book, and they worked, but somehow the method didn't stick. 

I guess that's because, when you've been making poems since age seven, by the time you're an adult you tend to fall back on what's already working. (Much as, having learned to two-finger type when I was nine, I never learned to touch-type later. Every time I tried, I became impatient and went back to what I already did quite well enough for my needs.) 

Nevertheless I exclaimed to Jasmine, 'I love the way you work!' It looked so active and immediate.

I find process fascinating – especially the fact that we can have very different processes, yet all of them can produce excellent poems.

For me, poetry tends to occur as phrases, lines, even whole verses already formed. This happens whether they just bubble up into my consciousness, apparently from nowhere, or whether I decide to write on a particular topic (be that a prompt, or something else that engages me). So I start with what comes into my head, and go from there. Those original words usually do form the beginning of the poem, but sometimes they turn out to be at the end of it or somewhere in the middle, and sometimes they don't stay in the finished poem at all. 

I'm like the late Australian poet Judith Rodriguez, who was famously quoted as saying, 'How can I know what a poem will say until I've written it?' Even when I work to a prompt, I don't know where it will take me until I get there. 

I've been intrigued to discover that some of my poet friends work quite differently from that. They start with an idea of what they want to write about, and also have a pretty clear idea of what they wish to say on that topic. At least some of them then explore it in prose until it's expressed coherently, and only then begin to shape it into verse. Some very good poets work like that. It puzzles me, but I can't deny that for them it's an effective technique.

Then of course there are many other aspects to process. Some people need quiet in order to create. Noise doesn't bother me; I can tune it out. Some people like specific rituals to help them get into a creative frame of mind; others (including me) dive right in. Some find that listening to music somehow helps the words to flow. (Classical music seems to be what works best for them, I observe. Which may be one reason I don't do that, as I prefer other kinds of music which might not be so conducive. Blues could work; not so sure about heavy metal.) 

Some write best first thing in the morning, others late at night.

There are those who like to do a lot of thinking before they put pen to paper – even, in some cases, to go for a walk before they start writing, or to sit and meditate. And of course there are plenty of us now who don't put pen to paper any more, but fingers to keys. 

There are fiction writers who save newspaper cuttings to get inspiration for plots and characters. There are poets who fill notebooks with lists of words that appeal to them. There are people who go out to cafés to write; others who must have their own desk in their own room; others again whose most productive spot is the kitchen table. 

All methods work, but only some of them work for a particular individual. What do you favour?

Please tell me in the comments. I'd love to know your thoughts, and read your descriptions of your own processes.


Post-script:

I'm currently (at the time of preparing this post) reading Patti Smith's latest book, Year of the Monkey, and just came to the part where she describes herself and her late friend Sam Shepherd, towards the end of his life, working together on revising a manuscript, '... me reading and transcribing, Sam writing out loud in real time.'

She says: 'There are several changes and new passages which he verbalizes to avoid the struggle of writing by hand.' 

He's in a wheelchair at the time she writes of, and can no longer play his cherished Gibson guitar.

She says: 'Some time ago he told me that one must write in absolute solitude, but necessity has shifted his process.'

That would be a good place, aesthetically and philosophically, at which to end this. But wait, there's more! It's an important more.

'Sam adjusts and seems invigorated by the prospect of focusing on something new.'

Over to you! 

Material shared in this post is presented for study and review. Poems, photos, and other writings and images remain the property of the copyright owners, usually the authors.

Wild Fridays: Roving the Web

I'm introducing a new wild card – er, feature – into our Wild Fridays: links to good stuff for writers, which I notice online. It will be very subjective and eclectic; and I trust useful, or at least entertaining. Here is the first one.

I had not heard of Allison Joseph (aka Allison J.) until she posted in a facebook group I’m in:

Many of you know that for decades, I ran the CRWROPPS list-serve. Yahoo has decided to no longer support its Groups function, so CRWROPPS as a list-serve is no longer.
But CRWROPPS the blog is now at
creativewritersopps.blogspot.com

I will be posting several times a week. Thanks for your support!

Apparently a lot of others did know of her, and maybe that includes some of you. I do too, now, having checked out this and her other blogs, and am impressed. 

At her profile she introduces herself as,'runner, writer, poet, professor'.

The blog she refers to (see link above) is full of all sorts of opportunities you may like to take advantage of – contests, awards and prizes, calls for submissions to various publications....


Please note:

I am constantly thrilled by the high quality of poetry I read in this community, and surprised that you yourselves don’t always seem to realise how good you are. I’ve been a publisher, an editor, a teacher of creative writing at tertiary level – and more recently a slam winner, lol; you can trust me when I say this.

Yes, we are all at different stages of development. I watch some, who are obviously beginners when they join, develop rapidly through our interactions – and surely also from the habit of writing regularly to share here.

So, if you're interested in these opportunities for greater recognition – go for it, do! And keep trying. You DO have what it takes.

************

Speaking of people who have what it takes, last night there was another poetry slam in the town where I live. 13-year-old Jasmine (recently featured here) and I were competing again. 

'It's either you or me,' I told her beforehand. 'Between the two of us, we've got it won.' 

Cocky or what? But I was right – even though there were other excellent contestants too (wouldn't want you to think we had nothing much to beat). As it turned out, there was only one point between us (a slightly larger margin than last time). This time, I came second and she won. J

Material shared in this post is presented for study and review. Poems, photos, and other writings and images remain the property of the copyright owners, usually the authors.

Wild Fridays: I Wish I'd Written This

This is the Place 

by Christine Strelan

Do please click on the (short) video before scrolling down to read the text! Christine's delivery is clear and beautiful, and should be your first experience of the poem.

The poem itself is clear and beautiful, and is from her latest book, electric lady lands, published 2015.

When (in late 1994) I first came to live in the Mt Warning caldera, in the sub-tropical Northern Rivers region of NSW, Australia, I discovered two of Christine's poetry books in a wonderful pottery (so it was named) which stocked not only stunning pottery but all manner of other works by local artists, including books.

A quick glance inside the covers of Christine's books and I was hooked, and bought them on the spot. I've acquired others since, over the years, the latest at a recent poetry reading where I was lucky enough to hear her perform this piece and several others. 

She also writes fiction, and self-publishes her work in paperback. Inside this latest book, we are told:
 
For enquiries or mail order, contact 
Christine Strelan at 
P.O. Box 536
Nimbin NSW 2480

christinestrelan@hotmail.com

This modest marketing and the fact that she is a rather private person (who did not wish personal details included in this post) has led, I think, to her being much less celebrated than she deserves. I think she's one of the best poets in Australia but I have the impression she is not widely known, even in poetry circles – except locally, where she frequently participates in spoken word events and is justly admired. 

Her work is varied. It can be bitingly satirical, gently humorous, passionately romantic ... or several of these at the same time.

I love the beauty of 'This is the Place' – not least because I live in the same region, though not quite so deep in the bush as the poem suggests she might. The place she is celebrating is clearly very specific, not the Northern Rivers as a whole so much as her particular corner of it.

Still, I have a number of friends here who do live more rurally than me, am well acquainted with those environments, and can relate very much to her love for this part of the world. I frequently ask myself rhetorically, 'Why would anyone ever want to live anywhere else?' 

Here is the text of the poem, for those who like to see things written down:

This is The Place

Is this the place
in the sink of the valley
on the banks of the creek
by the curve of the caldera
where rain pools like ichor
under a shining web of leaves?
This is the place.

Is this the place
where thick spring mist crouches
through the night and does not depart
till dawn finds every green thing
drenched in its residue
and dirt dents like a sponge underfoot?
This is the place.

Is this the place
where palms spread their scissor-hands
beside glistening lilli pilli
and the earth's grass fur hackles
rise and fall as I pass,
bamboo bows like shaggy monks at matins
and the fig is queen of a ravine
the machine never reached?
This is the place.

Is this the place
where hoop pine hide curls like a
gilded manuscript tinted in blood
while I work my way through
the paperbark scriptorium
learning the language of the birds
and persuading acacias to spill their secrets?
This is the place.

Is this the place
where I sieve spirit crossing the creek
seized and pierced by
an iron maiden of ether?
All life takes refuge in a single space.
This is the place.

Copyright © Christine Strelan 2015


Note: As this post goes live, the devastating bushfires in several surrounding regions are coming close enough to be threatening to parts of the beautiful Northern Rivers, and we have had a thick smoke haze on all horizons for days. So far we are luckier than many others.

Christine tells me she herself is well out of danger; not so sure about her place.

Material shared in this post is presented for study and review. Poems, photos, and other writings and images remain the property of the copyright owners, usually the authors.