A spiral, fir-green staircase…
And drifting down in a patchwork knitted poncho…
Limes
Strawberries and watermelons…
A little old guy…
Etched face of a long-term dreamer…
Prancing rhythms of the Pheasant Pluckers…
“Fire in my belly…fire in my soul…
You don’t have to worry as fire’s in control…”
But I smiled, when, for one musical moment…
They sighed in sweet frustration…
About some girl
Not yet met…
Seething fields of Sunday walkers…
Yarra dreaming…
Suited in grey…alone…
Lovers…
Bike riders…
Skateboarders…
And many walking the dog…
But one couple drifted in a world of their own…
A river cruise…
A tiny boat…
He stood behind her…
Arms wrapped close around her…
And together…
As one…
They sailed by…
And then there were those who offered a dreaming
To any who chose to stop…
And wonder…
Awhiles…
Gold…rustic gold…
A breathing statue of old gold…
A tiny lady…slim…
Gowned…drifting…
Long, long curls framing a delicate face…
Trapped…
In gold…
And a painted koori...
Alone...
Dark light
On paved steps...
Playing the rhythms of ley lines...
Old Dreamings
On a didgeridoo
NOTE: This was written after some beautiful time spent wandering by the Yarra River in Melbourne!
Linking to:
Real Toads Open Link Monday
+
One Stop Poetry – For Poets, Writers & Artists
And drifting down in a patchwork knitted poncho…
Limes
Strawberries and watermelons…
A little old guy…
Etched face of a long-term dreamer…
Prancing rhythms of the Pheasant Pluckers…
“Fire in my belly…fire in my soul…
You don’t have to worry as fire’s in control…”
But I smiled, when, for one musical moment…
They sighed in sweet frustration…
About some girl
Not yet met…
Seething fields of Sunday walkers…
Yarra dreaming…
Suited in grey…alone…
Lovers…
Bike riders…
Skateboarders…
And many walking the dog…
But one couple drifted in a world of their own…
A river cruise…
A tiny boat…
He stood behind her…
Arms wrapped close around her…
And together…
As one…
They sailed by…
And then there were those who offered a dreaming
To any who chose to stop…
And wonder…
Awhiles…
Gold…rustic gold…
A breathing statue of old gold…
A tiny lady…slim…
Gowned…drifting…
Long, long curls framing a delicate face…
Trapped…
In gold…
And a painted koori...
Alone...
Dark light
On paved steps...
Playing the rhythms of ley lines...
Old Dreamings
On a didgeridoo
NOTE: This was written after some beautiful time spent wandering by the Yarra River in Melbourne!
Linking to:
Real Toads Open Link Monday
+
One Stop Poetry – For Poets, Writers & Artists
11 comments:
nice moment you captured and liked the layering of people...pheasant pluckers kinda made me giggle...lol...nice...and thank you for all the support gemma.
Very observant record of the going-ons of wild life which many cannot appreciate easily. You brought it out live as a true poet.
Hank
esp. the stanza with the couple getting lost in their own world touched me...love how you put your observations into poetry gemma..very nicely captured
Gamma,
What a beautiful poem, I love the lovers on the boat, so sweetly said !
LOVE IT !!
JL&B
Glad you said Pheasant Plucker ;) Strolls by the upside down river n suited greys, definitely Melbourne
A painted Koorie for those down South... just remember the didge is for those northerners
Gday from a fellow Southerner
That sounds like a wonderful trip...would so love to take that same one. Great picture of the different kinds of dreamers, those inside and those sharing, great way to look at it.
You did it! Created a yearning to return for a second visit ~ Australia is magic.
You bring me down there with you to sit to watch and to imagine as time drifts and spirals by oddly all of a pace as if--in reality--orchestrated to be so. Perhaps it is a mood puts this music out, but I prefer believing the scene provoked the mood. They are not all actors on a stage warming up to mother pheasant pluckers!
Sigh. I felt I was there. Lovely young couple......."yarra dreaming"......and, especially "Playing the rhythms of ley lines...old dreamings on a didgeridoo". So beautiful.
Felt like I was sitting in the park watching the world go by, and I loved it!
http://www.kimnelsonwrites.com/2012/06/07/art-in-some-stanzas/
Wonderful to see you here at Real Toads, Gemma. Perhaps you haven't been here since I joined, or maybe I just missed seeing your name.
Either way, I'm glad you're here.
I love this poem. A walk by a river does so much for the poetic soul, doesn't it? Rivers have been a powerful part of my life.
K
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