Sunday, June 23, 2013

I realise I am an erratic blog updater. In fact I am erratic about most things currently. So, that being so, here's the next batch of Glass poems

Obsidian's sheer face
holds clouds seen from aeroplane
grey and black both shine.

This rock gleams with peace
Mexican history transformed
solidified past.

From Op Shops
a collection of thick
glass jugs occupies
half the sideboard top.

The feathers that fill them now
I picked up for free.
It became a truth - every time
I walk I discover at least one feather.

Now my walking mates
bring me gifts - tiny down
from young budgies,
handfuls of cockatoo moultings.

The long brilliant red, blue
and gold from caged macaws
remind me I never really knew
my cousin as an adult.

Our breast cancers so different
our divergence greater. And yet
feathers in jugs gift me this:
feathers brought us together

in time to celebrate ancestry
before mourning. From Op Shop
the punch bowl's cups begin
collecting new feathers I discover.

Much in the news nowadays
that glass ceiling. Beware
women who break through it:
apparently the blood you spill
from the shattering is natural
and you are not allowed to
point out that something clearly
invisible can be so dangerous.

Under a magnifying glass
even I agree my lifestyle is
unsustainable. You say,
slow down, relax, chill out.
I argue there must be a way.
Maybe I need to move along
move around, move up or out.
Reviewing and re-writing I
sleep badly; doing work
incompletely, I fall out
of rhythm, lose the rhyme
and reason, forget the words
to songs, and self-doubt wins out.

Until I slow down, relax, and 
look: what's so is mine and so -
I chuck the magnifying glass out.

Frosted garden, thick ice
on the bowls of water. 
Winter sun's long shadows
make shade we'd love in summer.

On the street, sun's glare
brings dark glasses out from
hiding; in shops, heat's fanfare
removes hats, coats, scarves.

A season for rejoicing!
Over all, the gums and wattles
flowering, blessing the sun
for continuing to shine.

While cloud and frost and fog
bring moisture we'd love in summer,
rising in the morning brings
the chance to worship at sun's shrine.

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