Carillon by the lake Burley Griffin, Canberra

Hazy

Sprawling winter clouds
scattered and undecided
as a white-gown bride


Image: Carillon by the lake Burley Griffin, Canberra.
Advertisements

Family portrait

If voices had colour,
mum’s would be yellow
for she was mellow
saying hello
at the doorway
chases ma blues away—
school wasn’t easy
being picked on as measly 
yet for me she was there
we had to go nowhere.

If voices had colour,
dad’s would be black
dark, deep, bleeding slack
with a sense of hollow
he’d always wallow
in games after work
and want braised pork
thus well-fed he was
cushioned by his arse
while mum, she’d pass.

Walk by the lake, Canberra

Morning

down the winding road
trees snaking up to the skies
paving peace on path

Foggy day by Lake Ginninderra, Canberra

Covered

Shroud of mystery
the city undercover
a siege by nature


Photo: Foggy day by Lake Ginninderra, Canberra

Same path

I walked down the path
same as every day
trees waving arms
lake rippling
feet dragging
mind full.

Perhaps I shouldn’t’ve lost my temper
last night in bed—
reading was no crime
I should’ve obliged
turning over 
not turning off.

Perhaps I could make it up tonight
a nice dinner
spaghetti and meatballs
swimming in starchy sauce
I’d pick a lamp as well
to liven our abode.

Perhaps I should lighten up more
take it easy,
yell less; listen often
“how was your day?
pray tell, honey”
for I care what I hear.

Perhaps I too should get a book
keep occupied
and read together
as Ted and wife
world knowing poet
wannabe aide.

I walked down the path
just as every day
feet dragging
mind full—
eyes blind,
ears dumb.