Frangipani

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Evening on the bluestone quay
in Frangipanied harbour air
where palm trees bend to sip the sea
askew with dubious gravity.
A cooling layer of gentle breeze
consumes the day’s dull torrid heat
and coconuts freed randomly
beat earth’s arrhythmic pulse.
Leashed along the timeworn cleats
fast thoroughbreds of classic sail
mahogany and brass and braid
all burnished bow to stern;
laughs and shrieks ambiguous
clinked crystal rings and guitar strings
accompany glad ambience
along the wave-lapped wall.
And me contented just to breathe
the balm of Frangipani

Beguin

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The way your freckles danced and winked
at my droll teenage wit
and how your yellow fringe ensnared
one eyebrow raised to quiz
Remember how your tingling spine
synced to a Hendrix riff
you played me Chopin’s Polonaise
with graceful flicking wrist
Those warm pink silly earmuffs
gave winter walks a hue
bikini blue was cheeky you
though you blushed de rigueur
Your warm palm always on my knee
when driving Dad’s old car
soft leather seats whose creases kept Continue reading

Trio

Rowan Taw has resumed blogging her poetry after a lamentable hiatus so I will forego a new poem this week in order to assist the universe in carrying out the necessary re-balancing. I offer you now one from the archives, Trio – the first poem I ever blogged. I was biased in selecting it for you because I will be spending an evening with one of my Trio next week at an Opera Australia staging of Georges Bizet’s Carmen.

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In great halls they enchanted me,
Three women – dulcet sirens
Awoke my heart, made life restart
Without us ever meeting.
They looked at me – no, stared at me
Their gaze intense with passion,
My essence surged when first I heard
Their voices, tones exhaling as
They came to me, reached out to me Continue reading

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Morning by Patrick William Adam. WikiCommons

Morning by Patrick William Adam. WikiCommons

A Sunday morning; the cold winter sun footprinting the carpet; wearing warm wool; the tea green and the fruit peeled; John Updike’s latest exceeding expectations; playlist pumps Tal Wilkenfeld, tactile and mellow on her Sadowsky strings; my five senses dovetail. Brain sends a wave when a particular soundbite agrees with the flash of sunlight on a crystal vase – synchronicity or synchrony? Whateva. It’s a sunny Sunday in winter and I’ll take what I have.

Roaming

This is my first blog post without an accompanying image.

Roaming
I heard the waterfall before I saw it. I allowed its thundering tenor to leech me in along the nebulous path, mud sucking at my bare feet. Then between dark birch branches a bright movement shimmered opaquely. It focused first as a covert cloud, then as serial stalactites sloping and sliding downwards. I finally viewed its full might Continue reading