Seed – 19/8/17

I am a seed in brown casing

Dreaming in darkness of shifting sizes and creaking doors,

Sheilded by my long brown hair, knees curled in,

I am so close to the ground, my mind is swirling in the skies,

Content as I am, does a seed know how far it will shoot?

-zu

Why Not Stop and Stare – date:a long time ago I wrote this poem

We’re going down the highway, and we’re almost back home,

The sun is at its highest and it glistens on the dome.

We’re skidding round the corner and rolling down the straight,

And avoiding all the road-hogs, full of rage and hate.

We’re gliding past some road-kill, down along the track,

And until we’ve gone right by, I won’t look back.

For they did no wrong, and only died by chance,

And we rush right by them, with no second glance.

Galahs fly overhead, with no second thoughts,

As we speed in plastic bubbles, for they think us funny sorts.

As we drive along the highway, not stopping on the way,

With our artificial air, we could drive like this all day!

No time to turn down creek beds, as the willows nod and sway,

No time to stop at all and we simply cannot stay.

No time to watch the kangaroo, with a joey in her pouch,

No time to wait for native birds, who come if you silently crouch.

No time to lay on golden grass and stare up at the sun,

Speeding past in plastic bubbles, you miss a lot of fun.

No time to crush a gum leaf, and smell the gum-fresh air,

As we fly on by, going as fast as we possibly dare.

As we swoop on down the highway, for we’re very nearly home,

And the afternoon sun, glistens on the highway’s dome.

We’re speeding round the corner and flashing down the straight,

For we simply cannot stop, and we simply cannot wait.

And I stopped and watched the plastic cars, rushing till the end,

Swooping out of sight, under a gum tree, round a bend.

And I sighed behind them, why not stop beside the track,

And turn down a creek bed and don’t worry to go back?

Lie down in the shade in the golden grass that’s fair,

And learn to stop and stand and stare.

And take a gum leaf from a gum and crush it in your hand,

And learn to really see what is good and grand.

Why not stay till night fall, and watch the ghost gums dance,

And wander past the creek bed and take the track by chance.

For the earth is much too wonderful, not to stop and stare,

And gaze upon a joey’s face, and dance without a care.

 

-zu

This was such a long time ago. I actually wrote this while I was driving, on the way home on the highway with my family. As I was driving, I couldn’t exactly write, so I memorized the whole thing somehow and wrote it down when we got home. I believe we were very close to home at the time otherwise this would have been lost into oblivion for all time.

dVerse Quadrille #37: What Leads to Fear – 2/8/17

Running that’s the truth
And tipping, tripping, lie, or tie me down
Too late
Unexpectedly at the sheer drop
Arms windmilling
Against the fearful drop
And back I tip
Running again
Whipping though lovely foliage
In dancing copperplated heels
Down amongst the laughing trees.

 

-zu

Following the prompt at dVerse – Quadrille #37–Be Not Afraid.

Please let me know what you think, constructive criticism is always welcome!

 

Leave it here – 15/7/17

Now’s the time to leave this here
On the floor, on that bench,
Leave it there.

 

Is it a time capsule, is it a prayer,
Is it an old coat, is it your last dont care.

 

Nows the time to leave it laying
On a bench, on a chair,
Heavy and sodden.

 

Cast off don’t weight, don’t
Look back,
You’ll regret it for a while,
But this lightness is madness

 

This lightness is madness.

A few nonsensical poems from a hilarious day – 14/7/17

Do you suppose in autumn, all the trees are saying,
I cannot be-leaf it, this year I was praying,
For my leaves not to leaf me,
Yet here I am, a bear tree.
* * * *
Damn the roses saith the man
As he liftth the watering can.
* * * *
If I had a verandah,
I would put my Aunt Miranda,
on it.
And she would knit
and sit
and knit some more.
-zu

20/4/17

Anticipation sours the deep warm pit of my stomach

A tingle sounds in the back of my neck

My pulse is a dull thud below my lungs

I have done all that I can do

So I put my worries to rest

Closing my eyes,

If I can’t see them they won’t be there

I can fight again when I wake

-zu

Mary Anne Radmacher — ‘Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.’

 

Quiet is not…. – 14/4/17

When I say I am quiet

I don’t mean it’s loud in my head

I don’t mean I’m listening and remembering everything you say to use it for or against you one day 

I don’t mean I am a cyclone waiting to explode

I don’t mean quiet means I am shy please tell me I am not and have never seemed quiet to you

 

When I say I am quiet

I mean sitting in a dim light listening to the hum of nothing in my ears

I mean letting my thoughts swirl behind my eyes like soft mist from tea in the morning 

I mean please don’t expect me to talk for a while but don’t feel like my silence is unhealthy, I’m just recharging. 

When I say I am quiet

I mean I like to be quiet 

I mean my brain cannot stand to have so much noise for so much of the time 

-zu