January 6-11, 2011 ~ My Poetry in a Nutshell

Collage by Gemma Wiseman
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My Poetry in a Nutshell ~ January 6-11, 2011
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6.01.11
An unknown rich face/ Character etched with vision/ Threads of yesterday

7.01.11
Down a winding path/ Treasure in a sea of greens/ Nature's sweet secret

Summer carnival/ Holiday games and fun rides/ Colourful puree

Summer and water/ Crowds are drawn to gleaming sands/ Holiday spirit

A routine of highs and lows/ Caged circle of freedom/ Daily drudge/ Becomes/
A thrill on/ The ferris wheel

8.01.11
Marina beauty/ Gentle serene water worlds/ Sweet secret haven

Chords and harmonies/ Vibrant sounds of summer beats/ Heated holidays

Distant city view/ Pale mysterious mural/ Geometric art

Running/ Barefoot/ On a fresh freeway
Salt scents/ The rain of sun
Seeking new moccasins

9.01.11
Strolling summer sands/ Enjoying the rain of sun/ My shadow and I

Enjoying the beach/ Like living in private worlds/ Faces of summer

Belief in new life/ Celestial destiny/ Joy in abundance
Belief in new hope/ Celestial abundance/ Inner destiny

For every downfall of an Empire/ For every Dark Age/ For every Holocaust
For every curse of poverty/ Flood/ Drought/ Starvation
For every onslaught of/ Greed
Lust/ Manic madness
For every loss of a child
For every dark night/ There's a brighter day
Somewhere/ For some one

Candle magic/ Longings/ Romance/ Golden memories/ All dancing in
One/ Tiny/ Flame

10.01.11
Yellow parachute/ Like a flying umbrella/ Sail led by sailing

I know You are there...

Reaching into unfiltered sands
Like a shipping channel
Chartered
But with seasonal warnings attached...

Offering me an umbrella
Sometimes...
Convertible for
The chance of rain
Or sun...
But not so good on those
Blustery
Windy days...

Yet always
I know You are there...

I feel like a pioneer...
Some days
Bumping along in a home-made wagon...
Other days
Cast adrift
Alone
In a dinghy...

Glare
Grit
Frost
Scorching sun
The hollow pain of aching for
Holistic food...

And all the while I know
I am committed
To walk
Ride or sail or drive
Maybe run
Maybe fly
Onwards...

I know You are there
Going somewhere...
For I taste the scents of questions
Sweet eagerness
Spicey concern
And ultimately know...

Nothing...

I dream of Your precious chalice
Always waiting for my celebratory wine to pour
And fill...
(Sometimes
You tease me with
A brief whiff...)
Exclusive vintage from
My watery, limpid tomorrows
Magically turned into the wine of memories...

But I do understand just one thing...
I need to tread the grapes
In naked feet
Before
My yellow brick road
Rises
To meet me

A boutique township/ Bubbling with colour and sights/ Waiting by the sea

Never build on unstable ground/ So we are told/ But some choose
Shifting earths as/ A place to grow/ Creatively

11.01.11
Wizard Wells magic/ Legend in wine storage art/ Unique promotion

Fickle social seas/ Restrictions surf around us/ Just keep floating on

Queensland flood crisis/ Like realities melting/ Kaleidoscopic