Tuesday, December 8, 2009

We gazed into each other's eyes and then it was lunchtime

Soft peach skin
smoothed, stroked, kisssed
Flutterby eyelashes
Downy hair so fine

We gazed at each other
She at me
I at her

Blur, she sees
smiles, she sees
Wafting shapes
Smells of milk
Sleep
cocooned from the world in my arms
Safe, mine
all mine.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

At the White Elephant

Down at the school fair, early in the morning
See the tired mothers, all in a row
See them hold their children, see them push their buggies
Coffee, chocolate, off they go!

Down at the school fair, early in the morning
See the happy mothers, all in a row
See them with their full bags, see them with their bargains
Coffee, chocolate, there they go!

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

To my Mother

This was written for my mother when I was single and the boys were young primary school children. My mother treasures the poem, and I am still really pleased with it. It just seemed to sum us up. A real testament to my mother.


TO MY MOTHER


My Mother's hands reach out
With gritty callouses
Bleeding knuckles cracked
Worn out and hard working
"All that washing " she said

Her hands reach out
Nails short and split
Freckled and sun darkened
Muddied from the garden
"The potatoes will do well this year" she said

My Mother's hands
Rub me down after the bath
Towel my hair, smooth my eyebrows
They don't feel rough, just smooth warmth
"You'll do!" she says

Warm hands reach out
Soft and gentle
Calming in the night
Soothing on my skin
"It was only a dream" she says

They know, these hands
What they have seen
What life they've lived
She gives to me
"You'll do!" she says


Tuesday, October 6, 2009

In the South

The Southern Cross points my way
"Here is your world" it says to me
The lake, the hills, the tussocked tops
The clear sky at night

Here is your world
The stones with deep lichen
The vines, the apples, the rocky roads
The sparkling clear daylight

Here is your world
Like time stands still
The hope, the waiting, the growing old
the child's eyes bright

The Southern Cross is my world
Pointing my way
Step here, step there, look up and see
Its ever shining light

Monday, September 21, 2009

A Poem a Week

Will this be too hard? a poem a week, written by me (or my Dad, or my extended family). I have a stash of older ones, which will do for the moment, but it means I will have to start putting my thinking cap on. That's got to be good, getting the brain cells moving!

Poetry and more....

My Dad was here recently, he visited on his own while my Mother was up North. As always, he bought a little poetry of his down to read to me. This particular one caught my fancy. I love the sentiment...but not all the individual words. Personally, I would never pick "odiferous" as an adjective! nor "decrepitude". They worked for him and I guess make it what it is.

This was written once my parents came back from walking El Camino in Spain, and it describes an actual bell that they saw. Their trip was a few years ago but the date on this is 18/08/09.

THE BELL

There was a farmyard in Spain,
With mud, odiferous and deep
And cows, and a poor farmer
With a wheelbarrow,
Doing his best to make a go of things.

Above the stone barn there,
A bell turret with a great
Bronze bell,
Hung motionless with disuse and
Years forgotten.
Streaked with the green decrepitude of age,
Siezed in place, silent,
Beyond notice

All around, fields and woods stretched green.
The eye sess that, and the birds
Swimming in air - no more.
Yet in that indifferent silence
I heard such a ringing
That time cracked open.

Mud, cattle, trees and sky
Were gone,
And I set sail upon such a sea
That I can never leave.

I should like to be, one day,
Such a bell,
Hanging in slence, rusted, still,
Unnoticed by the years,
Waiting till someone comes,
Looks up and listens.
Then I shall ring and ring
And ring.

DOUG BAYNE