fresh poetry

  • sweet summer

    if i were to slip
    sideways between trees
    between worlds,
    blur my edges
    until my skin turns scale
    and bark and hide – it would be a soft
    rain, mud morning like this;
    with a dawn chorus of frogs pulsing
    cell membranes, jubilant, tympanic.
    and as the sun climbs
    the clouded sky
    cicadas will while away
    their day with
    songs of love.

    WhatsApp Image 2020-01-17 at 07.42.16
    Multimedia collage by Steven Hurt.

     

     

     

  • relief

    the ocean
    has come
    to find me
    under
    this starless sky.

    i wait
    breathless as the trees
    in this salt mist,
    hoping the night
    brings rain.

  • travels in the holy land (or driving home from a school meeting)

    on the long road home
    low light etches
    verge grass in amber
    while hills roll
    long-shadowed and lazy
    under an ocean of high mist.
    for a moment in passing
    the roadside tree
    stands ablaze
    as the forest buzzard,
    feathers aflame with evening,
    alights on arced wings
    dips her haloed head
    and folds into form.

  • 15/1

    And if it be
    we come
    to this far shore
    empty and alone,
    let it be
    love that
    called us-
    and love
    that brings
    us home.

  • 14/1

    if it must be
    that we break
    a thousand times
    to this broken world –
    let it be this sky,
    this river,
    this deep gulp
    forest breath
    that breaks us open
    to the impossible beauty
    that lives this world too.

  • the path

    our feet know songs of longing
    our lips could never utter
    on this path to the river
    written in root-shadow, dust and stone.

    and when this path opens
    to light dappling water
    and trees leaning close,
    there is a prayer to the river
    only our skin can speak.

  • unfurl

    like petals to the sun
    we open to this living
    because we are here now
    because life asks
    the living to live
    because this morning roused us
    from our broken sleep,
    sang us jubilant
    as the stars faded
    and our bones hummed
    with new light
    dappled on the forest floor.

  • ripe

    silent as noon
    in summer
    the heat of the day
    turns sunlight sugar sweet –
    and fruit begins to ripen
    around sleeping seed,
    and we sigh into that silence
    and settle to the turning
    of the year.

  • the world is my ashtray

    fridays mostly
    we walk the long stretch
    of beach along the indian ocean
    with nothing but sea
    and all that lives it
    between us and the
    cold deep south
    of antartica.

    we walk with intention –
    gleaning the dunes
    and high tide line
    of garbage, gathering
    the bits of plastic
    that we did not want and
    the ocean couldn’t swallow.

    it is pleasant enough
    two hours on the beach
    turquoise waves and deep sand,
    finding all the things
    i have long misplaced.
    here my toothpaste lid
    smoothed along the ridges
    from years tumbling pebble
    beneath the waves.
    here my shampoo bottle
    colonised by small molluscs,
    embellished by algae –
    lollipop stick, lollipop stick,
    lollipop stick,, lollipop stick,
    and always at some point
    the last straw.

    it is hard not to get bogged down
    by all of this that might be mine
    hard not to panic when the cigarette butt count
    climbs into the hundreds
    it is hard for my oh so human eyes
    to tell shell fragment from micro plastic
    and i know how plastic is made.
    harder still for gannet and gull.

    we bring it home
    the garbage
    sort the recyclables
    and throw the rest away –
    garbage truck, landfill,
    incinerate, away.
    but how do you commit matter
    to dead static away on a planet
    that lives and flows
    rich with nutrient cycles
    and water cycles
    and weather patterns that
    cycle tide slow cyclones
    across the oceans.

    and when the rain falls
    and the roads run clean
    rushing storm water to the sea,
    how is the ocean
    not the away we won’t mention
    when we throw this all away.

     

    WhatsApp Image 2020-01-10 at 14.28.38

  • on the nature of love at the end of the world

    love never changed her mind
    or changed her ways.
    she has always been
    in love with you,
    with the fiery heart
    of your living –
    your burning passions
    that could set a room aflame –
    the quiet your of being
    in the emptiness.
    she knows your vulnerabilities,
    your need to keep yourself warm.
    and perhaps she should have
    said something (and perhaps she did)
    when your living flame
    turned to burning desire
    and trees began to fall in your wake.

    and you need to know
    she loves you no less
    now that the world is on fire.
    that she walks with you,
    tattered and burned
    thirsty feet crunching warm ash,
    that she still hopes you will
    see yourself in her eyes and know
    that there never was any need –
    that you always had been enough.