This poem originally written to the art of Jessica McCallum for her JM Exhibition at His Majesty's Theatre, Perth, 2009.
‘DEAF’
I see your mouth, your lips, your tongue moving, pointed in my direction, shaping words I cannot hear. I know you are expressing love with your eyes and hands, signing our future, sealed and stamped in ruby red wax – declared! I try to do the same but cannot recognise your words, only feelings.
Another one from my 1968 notebook and one of my sketches done in 2021.
The Constant Birth
In times of toil and days like these with summers sun and summers breeze with clear blue skies and pale brown earth my thoughts often wonder at the constant birth.
Of flowers and trees and the tiny babe (all this happened in a wooded glade) held peacefully in loving mothers arms protecting and keeping it from all harm
fear not, young child on Mother’s knee the hate and the wars you will not see you’ll see life through a rosy glow not knowing true fear until you grow
for when you become a woman or man and travel to a far distant land to seek fame and fortune’s hand,,, with adult eyes on foreign sands
in times of toil and days like these with summers sun and summers breeze with clear blue skies and pale brown earth your thoughts will often wonder at the constant birth.
When my returned-love found my name on the net after so long, the computer was both my friend and my enemy, forming a safe barrier to hide behind until I found the courage to step into love again.
Computer Messenger…
Banter that backfired because literal interpretations got lost in considered connotations, (re-read a thousand times) of what went way-back-when…
Juxtaposition of judgements. Hastily harnessed how-comes? Stopping me still, seriously! Making me question us both. My passionate banshee tears
initiated by tactile responses to words type-tapped carefully. Sometimes in casual jest to test my reactions? Is it natural to anticipate
disaster - dismissal and defend? Not normally for me – I search for more of your positive essence, confirmation of my impressions. I want you – all of you – now!
Every nuance of normality shared secretly, sensually… But other stuff too – thoughts, reasons, why you do what you do… I can’t ‘see’ the whole of you
touch your skin - breath you in. Sense your hands on my breasts holding me, stroking me softly. I want – I need – I crave to.
Insecurity inserts itself firmly forcing doubt-feelings to well and grow without witness, until you answer; you calm; you claim,
cover my heart and soul with caring. Linger in my love, lay there until we’re both sweetly exhausted by this power, this perpetual passion
Looking back through my poetry written in 2000: 'The Return of Rainbows’ was conceived at University as a mature-age student bloodied by life’s battles and as always, finding succor in words. My seemingly audacious presence provided lots of fodder to explore the constant challenges and effects of that experience on my life.
The Return of Rainbows
Driving down Alexander, (early morning rush hour) lecture on documentary film. Eager for knowledge, I noted low, broad bands of colour spanning the sky above Uni. Ignoring the grey clouds, I welcomed the return of rainbows to my life.
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“Those who expect to reap the blessings of freedom, must, like men, undergo the fatigues of supporting it.” Thomas Paine - "Limitation is essential to authority. A government is legitimate only if it is effectively limited." ~ Lord Acton - Commentary on what interests me, reflecting my personal take on the world
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