Defiant Whispers (2017)
This collection is in three sections: Bright, Dark, Light.
It is an ambitious collection where I seek to respond to the instability of the world with a defiance born of the search for greater wisdom. These are defiant whispers written to cut through the noise.
To read the full collection, please contact me directly.
It is an ambitious collection where I seek to respond to the instability of the world with a defiance born of the search for greater wisdom. These are defiant whispers written to cut through the noise.
To read the full collection, please contact me directly.
Yawning
Yawning
is our first great act of the day.
It is our first call for change:
an ancient roar
that opens our bones
and disentangles our flesh
from the unreasonable promises
made by our dreams;
it is a pre-verbal announcement
of our first intentions
which precedes our remarkable
evolutionary leap from bed to table;
it is our wildness incarnated
as a cockerel, heralding
a new day.
--
Darkness
A shrinking
then,
revelation.
--
Life passes
Outside,
I am greeted
by the resident cat
lolling over with
deep amber eyes
insisting I itch
his needy chin:
nothing is more important.
Above,
a diamond
of shape-shifting galahs
flash white and maroon,
ghosts and shadows
emerging from
a light box sky.
The birds populate
a branch of the gum tree,
stripped down to its
white underbelly,
and prove
the unseeable exists
with their hovering.
Meanwhile,
a black spider
collects his legs
and surrenders
to an audience of one –
it is the minimum
any of us could wish for.
Inside,
I hear life
passing within
white walls;
temporary promises
of beeps syncopating
with TV theme tunes.
Time’s passing
is captured
in trinkets,
hushed voices
and the search for
the right words:
the words that will matter,
that will ease the path to memory.
Soon the birds fly on,
the itch remains and,
inside,
life passes.
Yawning
is our first great act of the day.
It is our first call for change:
an ancient roar
that opens our bones
and disentangles our flesh
from the unreasonable promises
made by our dreams;
it is a pre-verbal announcement
of our first intentions
which precedes our remarkable
evolutionary leap from bed to table;
it is our wildness incarnated
as a cockerel, heralding
a new day.
--
Darkness
A shrinking
then,
revelation.
--
Life passes
Outside,
I am greeted
by the resident cat
lolling over with
deep amber eyes
insisting I itch
his needy chin:
nothing is more important.
Above,
a diamond
of shape-shifting galahs
flash white and maroon,
ghosts and shadows
emerging from
a light box sky.
The birds populate
a branch of the gum tree,
stripped down to its
white underbelly,
and prove
the unseeable exists
with their hovering.
Meanwhile,
a black spider
collects his legs
and surrenders
to an audience of one –
it is the minimum
any of us could wish for.
Inside,
I hear life
passing within
white walls;
temporary promises
of beeps syncopating
with TV theme tunes.
Time’s passing
is captured
in trinkets,
hushed voices
and the search for
the right words:
the words that will matter,
that will ease the path to memory.
Soon the birds fly on,
the itch remains and,
inside,
life passes.