AUSTRALIA ~ The Antipodes

AUSTRALIA ~ The Antipodes
I love a sunburnt country / A land of sweeping plains / Of ragged mountain ranges / Of droughts and flooding rains / I love her far horizons / I love her jewel-sea / Her beauty and her terror / The wide brown land for me / ~ Dorothea Mackellar (1885-1968)

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Saturday, November 22, 2008

Postcards from Childhood


Pic by Gemma Wiseman ~ Puddle reflection at Tootgarook, Mornington Peninsula
~
One Single Impression prompt #39 ~ Childhood Memories
~

Looking back to
Very young days is like poor eyesight
Needing new glasses
A little out of focus
Maybe set in frames
A little weathered
Or humbly confined to some large album
Laden with sticky memories
~
Or perhaps they are just filmy fragments
Reflected
Twisted
Maybe
Torn
Roughly from some bigger sky ~
When each change of season
Each new dawn
Each new rainfall
Sheds another
Tier
(Or tear)
~
I smile when I remember those oily cashews in his pocket ~
Those heavenly minutes
Walking together
Each work day ~
And I willing the train
To arrive late
Just for once
So he may tell me a story
Instead of timing his train
Just right
~
Bushwalks at weekends ~
(His bushwalks keeping us close to the mystery of the land)
We lived in a new area
And the end of the road meant
The beginning of tired trails to tired paddocks
But I only saw wild flowers
And a white horse
Silently dreaming under a eucalypt
~
And there was always my swing
My wings to the clouds
Right by a laddered vine of sweet peas
~
My mother always seemed to suffer with headaches
And a constant need to dust
And a religious ritualistic reminder that
School clothes must be shed right after school
Baths must be bathed
Pyjamas must be on and then
Homework must be done
Before dinner ~
Strange
I don't remember
A hug
Or a bushwalk
Or a story
~
But then
The memories of the young are
Fickle concoctions of
What was and
How you wish it could have been ~
Like postcards
Fresh from
Photoshop
~

Pic by Gemma Wiseman ~ Morning light at Tootgarook
~
Just puddles
Reflections
A few clouds and
Bursts of light
So small beside
Silvered moods of seas
Shimmering nostalgically
Under parades of white clouds
~

Pic by Gemma Wiseman ~ Child by the waters at Balnarring, Mornington Peninsula
~

13 comments:

jams o donnell said...

What a wonderful post. Have a great weekend

paisley said...

oh how i wish i could see life thru the same rose colored glasses that we often see our past...

me ann my camera said...

I like your reflection that 'very early days are a bit out of focus'... when I became a parent the focus sharpened and I remembered what had been missing in my childhood; it helped me in my own parenting.

Anonymous said...

Gemma, these memories are beautiful. The pictures fit perfectly also.
Boys have more realism in their memories and less fanticism (my impression--this week may tell). Mine too have faded with age.
..
BTW, my link was wrong on the OSI page, my attempt at childhood memories is on this link. Sorry.
..

SandyCarlson said...

Those images are beautiful. That is a wonderful poem. I remember childhood in a similar way.

gautami tripathy said...

I loved the start!

alpha and omega

Anonymous said...

You've really hit on one of the most intriguing things about childhood memory. Sometimes I'm not sure if I remember something myself, or if I just remember being told about it by my parents.

barbs.haiku said...

T loved the misty feel to this, Gemma! I especially loved the second paired with the child at the beach. My childhood memories are quite often blurred, so I am grateful to have my SisterDears to help keep them in focus!

Edward S Gault said...

You made observation that "Memories are fickle concoctions"-they are indeed, and many times error on the side of giving us something pleasant to look back on. Could we bear our lives otherwise?
Thank You for poem.

Beth P. said...

Hi dear Gemma--
Thanks for this lovely post--the photos were so sweet...

I wonder if our childhood memories are part of the fact that as young children, time is not linear--it goes both ways? So a memory is often lost in the present moment because it's not valued as something to keep, as it will be again tomorrow?

Thanks again--very precious--

Tumblewords: said...

So many fine phrases in this post - each one evocative of childhood and memories. Postcard from Photoshop - exactly! Wonderful work!

Anonymous said...

the photo set the scene of childhood reflections... it is amazing to look back at mom and dad how it was then... pieces of a puzzle... this is so very lovely... thank you

sgreerpitt said...

I like the way you show that our fuzzy memories of childhood may be distorted in both positive and negative ways. Remembering more of the good for one parent, and more of the bad for another.

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Archive of Blog Quotes

  • A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken. ~James Dent
  • Autumn is an introspective season when stray thoughts of the mind dive into the mystique of the soul - Gemma Wiseman
  • Autumn is the bridesmaid of Summer and the flowergirl of Winter ~ Gemma Wiseman
  • Autumn whispers the tones of yesterday in a minor key ~ Gemma Wiseman
  • Love is born / With a dark and troubled face, / When hope is dead / And in the most unlikely place; / Love is born, / Love is always born. - Michael Leunig's Christmas Song Cycle "Southern Star"
  • Spring paints the stars of heaven in Earth colours ~ Gemma Wiseman
  • Summer sizzles with a sibilant hush / Broken by dreams of / Clinking ice ~ Gemma Wiseman
  • The object of a new year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul. - G.K. Chesterton
  • Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. - Stanley Horowitz
  • Winter is the fire, simmering lonely in the soul ~ Gemma Wiseman
  • Winter is the shadow, the etching of the seasons in the mist ~ Gemma Wiseman

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