Calling All Angels

he sailed somewhere
one Saturday afternoon

I was just a child and watched
many cars arrive
headlights on

strange to see 
streams of light
in light

he sailed somewhere
and I drifted
in seas 
of silence

lonely silence

in high school years
I often dreamed beyond the classroom window
where there was a dam
the place where my father
often used to walk
my brother and I
it was all bush land round the dam in those days
and my dad gave us a regular taste of
a feeling for
other lives

but I had not been there
since the day of lights
I just watched
from the classroom
afar

till one day
I saw a white horse by the dam
standing quietly
beneath a tree
I watched 
sensing a connection with

 lonely beauty

it became a habit
each day 
seeking the presence of
that white horse
sometimes he stayed awhile
sometimes he just wandered by
but always
I felt
connected

I left high school
thinking no more of
that white horse

not till I moved to Tasmania

there was a dam on my property

and a white horse 
a lone white horse
roamed a farm
down the road

the dam was mine
the horse was not

suddenly
the white horse
disappeared

and not long afterwards
the dam was not mine either

I left Tasmania
my life broken

grudgingly 
I moved to Melbourne
a need for money breeds
drastic action

and I lived in a small, not so pretty 
rented
weatherboard house

not far from a main road


Blackburn was
hardly a place to find
grazing 
white horses

but the road was called Whitehorse Road
in the region of
Whitehorse Council

for the first time
in some years
I smiled freely
again

and now
I live on the Mornington Peninsula

I journey to and from my school where I teach
past farmlands
and many dams
and many

white horses

yes
they appear and disappear 
like good seasons and bad
but I have learnt to accept that
my journey
my pathway 
is marked by
signs
special signs

the presence of

my angel
my white horse
my father



Linking to:
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Calling All Angels

you see...

you see, the slice of cake was sitting there...


one bite
crumbed

but it was possessed
taken

just a cardboard view
of a yesterday

left
on the shelf


Linking to:
writing.com prompts

tales from ... gathering light

tales from outer suburbia

the outsider
soldier on the hill
the kite runner 

a leaf in the bitter wind 

cry freedom 


a gathering light 




Linking to:
dVerse - Form for All: The Hidden Poetry in Books

missing rinkly rimes...

If you need something from somebody always give that person a way to hand it to you.
- The Secret Life of Bees - Sue Monk Kidd


for some strange reason
I thought of you today
and realised
I was missing you
on the meme waves

just a little Googling
and there was the post
a finale post

you began February with
your 82nd birthday

by the 11th February
your daughter posted
that you had suffered a stroke

by the end of February
your goodbye

but I could not let it be
goodbye

your fancy free
poetry
needed 

re-connection


your first poem
for the year
penned here

just yesterday
Friday 27th September
yes
only yesterday

your theatrical 
witty gems
your spirit
breathed again
glowed 
touched
travelled

synchronised

my veiled songlines

and made them smile
for the angels


the universe sings
in mysterious ways
and having sung
moves on



UPDATE NOTE
Now that a few people have commented on this poem,
I have returned to Brenda's post on Rinkly Report
and invited her to read this and your comments.
I hope she enjoys.

Linking to:
Imaginary Garden With Real Toads - Sunday Mini Challenge
Poets United - Poetry Pantry

Once a birthday...

Your 
old 
birthday 
yesterday 
stung my memory 
but a friend received a koru


NOTE
Inspired by Marja at Dutchcorner's post HERE
A koru is a Maori symbol for a new beginning


Linking to:
Imaginary Garden With Real Toads - Weekend Mini Challenge - Fibonacci
(I used the 20 syllable version)

it could be a letter...

Did you know
I wanted little pink ballerina shoes

but you gave me black ones

Did you know
I wanted to play the piano

but your conservatorium days were your dark memory
of scales and scales

you gave me a xylophone
and closed the door

Did you know
I wanted friends
to bring them home
to share

but always you saw the neighbourhood as
a lower class

you would bring me up
the right way

Did you know
I went to church every Sunday
and church groups
and weekend camps
to escape

at least I missed your white gloved hand
checking my dusting skills
on your precious dressing table

Did you know
when Dad died
I hated all those people organising your life
our lives
and never once
did you notice
I missed him
never once 
did you notice
I was there

Did you know
when you died
I saw you
sitting in my car
just sitting there 
behind the wheel
watching me 
as I walked from the classroom

Did you know
I thought you may have come back
to start again

Linking to:
dVerse - Sent With a Stamp

Leaves

just leaves 
leaves
lamenting warmth
like coloured paints drying pale
and scattered loose to the winds
like sunlight shattered
she
like sunlight shattered
and scattered loose to the winds
like coloured paints drying pale
lamenting warmth
leaves
just leaves


Linking to:
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Weekend Mini Challenge - Palindrome
Poetry Pantry

Lines

 lines
 connect
 and protect
 mark, guide and run
 a wordless mission
 a vision of silence
 intent on being secure
 zoned for reliability
 just like the face before me right now
 that has kept me close to his lines through time



Linking to:
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Weekend Mini Challenge - Etheree

a piece of starlight...

 

Imagine...

what if

we each carry a piece of starlight

from the first pyramid

like a shard that

blinds some 

and

enlightens others

what if

the reason why the Atlantis magic

stirs our waters

is that we star souls

are fragments

from Atlantis worlds

think Pangaea

think breaking up

think moving apart

what if

when someone mentions

crop circles

the Hopi prophecy

the Aztec calendar

Edgar Cayce's visions

we may scoff

laugh them off

but inside

there is a kind of

unsettling

nervous

flashback

as if

we already know

something

somehow

until we visualise 

personalise answers

we cannot understand 

the shape 

the texture 

the tone of 

the questions

for

the sacred geometry we seek is

in our Zen garden

where our seeds slept

and awakened 

where our seeds sleep

and awaken

the record of our soul

Linking to:
dVerse - OpenLinkNight

love after love...

the time will come

you will love 
 the special you
unfurling 


I am not
in our streets we wandered yesterday

I am not the door
the window
that was our home

I am not the chair
that devotedly sat beside you

I am not the pillow
that shared our love

for I am not there
you are not there
as we were

we have moved on
into higher realms

for now
we 
are
you

we are
your door
your window

the streets you walk
your pillow

for you take me there


smile
for the mirror
and you will see me
smile


the time will come
you will love
unfurling



for Rosemary...


Linking to:
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Love after love
Poets United ~ Poetry Pantry

Am I Willow?

seamless 
naked
light

passing
underground

sights
overturn
sounds
depart

somatic
malfunctions
tether
souls

entice
illusions

and questions

is my sylph an Ariel
on gossamer cloud wings

or

am I a Willow
needing the earth
to weep



NOTE
Ariel - chief sylph in Alexander Pope's Rape of the Lock + character in Shakespeare's The Tempest
Willow - sylph bride to Ben Holiday in Terry Brooks' fantasy series Magic Kingdom of Landover


 
Linking to:
mindlovemisery - Wordle Challenge #5
Poets United - Poetry Pantry

trip the poem fantastic...

the ignition works just fine
on good days

the occasional tune up
costs a bit
so I save up
and psych up
for the necessary
duty
to keep the motor
singing

usually a routine for the holidays

meanwhile
the clean
the shine and polish
are left to the rain
and the sunshine
with varying degrees of success

there are a few damaged bits
courtesy of certain distances
and certain places
I didn't really want to go

but still
they hang together
and look kinda close
to what they once were

the day when I can 
re 
tire 
the wheels 
is on my bucket list 

 but I think there's a hole in my bucket 


NOTE
Photo is of micro community art on a garden wall outside the Kingston Arts Centre at Moorabbin, an inner suburb of Melbourne


 Linking to: dVerse ~ trip the poem fantastic

Monster

hunk of ugliness

silent
hunk of ugly
presence

disturbing
chameleon

a shape shifter

at the bottom of my garden
my private garden


my garden
where my seasons hopefully attract life

where I try to balance
my sunshine
and rain

where I try to keep 
their 
smoke and mirrors 
at bay



Linking to:
dVerse ~ Monster

Outside

picture frames
unreeled

sandy spaces
untilled

pale footprints
unfilled

childhood faces
unpainted

surging waters 
untainted

smiles 
broken

silence
spoken


outside

awoken


surging waters
painted

childhood faces
tainted

pale footprints
tilled

sandy spaces
filled
tilled
tainted
painted

picture frames
re-sealed



Linking to:
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Outside

O Pandora!

At first glance,
there seems to be nothing specially extraordinary about this view of a window with a sign

but this is one of many tall windows
round a large locked
empty room
in the old, colonial quarantine area
(fraught with many a tragic story)
at Point Nepean
on the far southern tip of the Mornington Peninsula

and
Red Hill Roast Coffee
seems like a rude temptation
that simply
can't happen
in the here and now
when you need it

Order online 
you can email at redhillroast@hotmail.com 
and we will deliver or send out

a sign of the times

reality mugged
and drugged
submitting to
 virtual worlds

fool's paradise

no sign of Pandora

no choice
but to

reel back
and
enjoy
our empty room
our tragic tall windows
our quarantine

our coffee
roasted
to perfection

o Pandora


NOTE:
Real apologies to the Red Hill Roast Coffee company
This is just a bit of circumstantial fun!
(And the photo was taken on 22nd January 2012.
This really is a quarantine area from our colonial days.
Parts are now open for the public to wander, including the 2 storey hospital and the disinfecting area.
What this building and this room really are I don't know.
It's all locked up.
And just the sign appears outside!
Things could be different now!)


Linking to:
dVerse ~ Irony

Our Glass...

our world of perfect glass

mirrors and windows

we see out
we see in

we reflect

but
crack
chip or
 puncture perfection

see beyond
see under
see behind

see through

more than I wish to see

then we are
distorted
broken

jus' sayin'
not really believin'
jus' sayin'





Linking to:
Poetry Jam ~ Castle of Glass
dVerse ~ Open Link Night

My Myth...My Dreaming

One of several figures created by William Ricketts.
(William Ricketts also has a spiritual sanctuary in the Dandenongs, north east of Melbourne.)
They appear embedded in a wall at Seawinds - beautiful parkland gardens atop Arthurs Seat mountain on the Mornington Peninsula overlooking Port Phillip Bay.



who am I?

I am the eyes of the land
as it was
and should be

my Dreaming was 
the bushland and desert sands
I was just a pilgrim

in my Dreaming
I found my running water
my earth place 
my star place 
my place to touch old wisdoms
my Mother's gifts to my thirsty soul

in my Dreaming
I created my rhythms
I created my songlines

in my Dreaming
my kookaburra found me
he gave me the healing of laughter
the healing of energies
he became my sign of intimate hope

he became
we became 
my spirit
my knowing
my understanding
my music


in my Dreaming
I create my rhythms
I create my songlines


and now
my Dreaming is your Dreaming

I am your eyes of the land
as it was
and should be


the bushland and desert sands are our timeless visions

we are just pilgrims

NOTES
Meaning of the Dreaming to Aboriginal people
Meaning of the kookaburra as a guide


Linking to:
dVerse ~ Modern Day Mythology

Within the blurry depths...

 

Within the blurry depths of misty realms,

Where answers seem to slip beyond our reach,

Where sounds and colours seem to pale and bleach,

Where past and future seem to lose their helms,

I love to wander side by side with fears

And feel the breathless pulse constrict my space

And hear the pounding silence face to face.

I love my halting steps with calm veneers.

It's here I know I'll meet my secret self.

The dark within will breed some living charm.

Perhaps I'll take that tome from my mind's shelf,

Ignoring screams of inner fire alarm,

And read about my pooka kind of elf

Who mingles fun and Gothic kind of harm.

Linking to:

dVerse Poets' Pub ~ Miltonian sonnet ~ ABBA-ABBA-CDCDCD

A New Wendy...

the little mirror
at the bottom of the lucky dip barrel
shammed 
the usual reflections


 a shocked Wendy
- tempest tossed
 from Peter Pan wings into
some underground fantasy - 
transformed into one
of several
dysfunctional
black cut outs
configured from 
some Shakespearean rhapsody


her Wendy mirror
dammed
(and damned?)
her usual reflections

Now it lurks in pride of place
on the top shelf
of her wardrobe




Linking to:
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Open Link Monday

My Other...

quietly

softly

I feel 

the planets

the stars

taking their place

a new place

as it should be

the river is rising

soon

I will meet the river

and though my light is

pale

shivering

a little webbed with aeons of neglect

some will find me

the ice

within 
will melt

into one song

and they will know

they own

the conscience

long thought

forgotten

the eternity

that always has been

Linking to:

Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Mini Challenge ~ Inner Wild Woman