Me! Now and Then! I am walking on the rim of a cyclone. Ocean waves are higher than my feet.  How? If the earth tilts now we will own a new coastline.  Winds are pushing my clothes into every crevice of my body as the material attempts to flirt with the skin of my sacred places. The willy-wagtail, on the sand at my feet, tries to fly. A valiant thing, tossed and twitched on the edge of the wind. The child outgrows the drawer and begins to absorb the sounds of the planet.  The groan of old timber floors:  rhythms of familiar footsteps along the hall;  sounds escaping from mouths, given meaning by inflexion and by the light and expression in eyes.  Before words were filed, this child knew that beauty shapes itself according to the soil on which its seed has fallen. Beauty would always be the idea that would make her life tolerable. They often found her tucked in tiny corners, surrounded by sweet smelling heads of roses, tugged tufts of clover, fragrant violets uprooted by small fists; shiny and perfectly round pebbles in her grasp. She stroked her cheek, her chin, with a perfectly soft and purely white chest feather of a backyard chicken. She conversed in rhyme with her mini friends in a language in her household, from the time her tongue discovered four teeth.
Moment after moment by brunette-from-oz, literature
Literature
Moment after moment
Moment after moment
Day after day
The ocean speaks to me…
“You are small”.
I am. And glad of it.
In the relativity of my mind
I am thus, infinite.
Here
I live in between two passionate forces.
Confronted by ocean to the east
ambushed by wilderness and desert to the west.
Where I live
mornings are doing times and as the winds bully the oceans
afternoons are the thinking, sheltered times.
A pattern of my life, of
Fishing, swimming, diving, hunting and beachcombing,
followed by the necessity of moving to shelter, to wonder and read and dream.
In water I experience a wonderful truant feeling.
It caresses my ski
Offspring One
Soul's gentle cradle
Soft as Summer's rain
You help me grow.
Hair, soft as night
Eyes with life's light
With flowers in your hair
You walk my field.
Bare feet on my heart
And free.
And on my life's path a stream
beside me to bathe my tired mind.
Should the stream dry
I shall thirst.
Offspring Two
You go into the garden
To pick a cabbage leaf
To make an apple pie!
You see a great he-bear crawling on the roof!
Get splinters in your fingers
"fifteen feet long, ma!"
Your ears are hearers
Eyes are winkers
Thumbs are holders
Head's a thinker
Feet are fallers
Lips and teeth and tongue are talkers.
A world laughs in your eyes.
The Mullet Run
The air and sea have made a deal to soothe the sweet Pacific.
Awareness is everywhere in the rain drops, on the dripping foliage of the wattle trees and in the memory of the soft shelled crab awaiting his new carapace.
Awareness is everywhere and becomes tangible. There is the scent of the wet burnt eucalypts hanging in the air hanging like that dream I fai
When the air disappears,
And my mind pops
Shattered
Exploding freely in an exquisite burst of purity
When your juices scorch and blister the surface of my apparently ordinary life
When taste returns to tongue and blood to heart
When blindness goes and the moon is right way up
Then my fury quietens but is there still as the dead days of finished time were as tears no longer shed.
Sea Dreams
The pounding sea's oft' in my dreams
And its mists around me pour,
The silvery sphere of moon prevails
To pull upon my shore:
To crush my hopes and dreams of sand
And empty me once more.
This Place
My soul recognises this place
Be I blind or awake.
A silence, split cheekily by
Willy-wagtail's "chit!"
That sea touched me then
Caressed my skin
And still does today as free as then
Smell the salt as you lift your face
to the air
as it settles, damp on your hair.
I use the word "love "in a studied way
I love where I live
I live where I play.
lina
Sydney: Night Time Taxi Driver.
He, taxi driver of the city night .. hollow man and shadowless,
denizen of invisibility.
"Cabbie" to some, nameless to others.
Man of eve, man of the nightshift, taking over after Zengo( of the grey cardigan, who's off to Coogee to son's birthday) and now it's his time absorbing heat of the day, setting the car seat for legs long and inclined to cramp.
Ford or Holden makes no matter cruising Bayswater or conforming to the rank, he's paid his dues.
There, flagged down . hopefully a friendly one here inside deserted darkness somewhere in this city, within the nightness of it all, A noctur
"Do You Remember?"
I was on the roundabout- in the park
spinning - the wind freezing my mouth into a smile.
And children in bright colours
Pointing and sharing my fun.
I could have taken flight
in freedom and joy.
I walked along the shore
My footsteps
Following like a faithful puppy.
Sunrise gilded the sand and water
stretching out to a molten horizon.
And my heart- full
Spread a golden warmth.
I could have melted
in happiness and love
I was a spectator
at a football game one Saturday.
Winter froze my nose.
Hands were warm in deep pockets
while I screamed for my team.
It was hard and rough and fast
A bitter day
Being