Ok, I swear, I’m Doing It

photography, rhymes and rhythm

 

In the last 12 hours

I

Cooked up oats,

Googled boats

Wrote a blog,

Dropped a bog

Surfed the web,

(brainwave ebb)

Shaved my legs,

Cooked some eggs

Counted cash,

Toilet dash

Carved in board,

(word is sword)

Messaged friend,

Awake no end

Here I sit,

Losing it

Procrastinate,

What a state

Essay? No,

I’m no Poe

Fear of time,

Need to rhyme

ESSAY STILL!

Voice is shrill

End of post,

I want toast

Coffee caper;

After that, the paper.

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loopy peace from too-much-awake Helen

xxx

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Pause

living, loving, photography, rhymes and rhythm

 

Among the cars, the light to see

The folded root in pavement

Beneath a trunk where grow did she;

Pedestrian amazement

 

In flight the answer clear enough

On peppered figs like cotton

Upon the saddle, over rough

For ridges grow forgotten

 

But time on lime of grass sublime

Arrived the simplest answer

To what once more befell on rhyme

Remembrance of the dancer

 

There cloth had worked as sail to wind

Here clothing serves as master

As flailing flag in wind is thinned

A breeze blows ever faster

 

But, still in movement stopped the call

To go with haste, directed

Gradated green away from wall;

Away from screens erected

 

Now fathom this – your time in flow

Trick kisses from created

Cremate to ash the past, let go

To find a mind elated

 

 

xxx

 

 

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Twenty First Year Manifesto

living, loving, photography, rhymes and rhythm

Twenty First Year Manifesto

 

Twenty one has been kind to me, here on the earth
And I’ve nurtured a humour with ongoing mirth
There’s been gifting of friendship and travel and love
Such elation at hoop-dance that fits like a glove

But with all of this growth I still need to confess
That my room is a shithole – an artist’s own mess
Here beneath all the piles of papers and pants
Are a few little things that still hold some romance;

Small drawings of anarchic doodles in pen;
A postcard that tells me I need to be zen;
The pink tube of bubbles I stuck in my bra
and promptly forgot about at Mardi Gras

A blue book that tells of the wisdom in words
And man’s greatest treasure in being absurd
I’ve learnt more than ever be honest, be true
But those with closed minds are a task to eschew

To cultivate love in its highest of forms
Needs movement, and stillness, defying thy norms
And pushing the boundaries that bound many years
You defy forceful factors that fracture small fears

For they’d splintered like wood into stagnant sharp states
Where they grew with conditions; for conditions are baits
But, empowered by those who live love with their being
Who resolve, knownst or not, there’s a gift in their seeing

In the thousands they meet and see right to the bone
To the human inside; to the voice, not the phone
Which then begs the question, how know you these friends?
Helen grins and leans back now to tie poem’s ends

With a homage to life, and a thank you to kin
My next of which lie in a heart that’s within
But let’s now make light of my Twenty Two year,
Whilst I love all these wishes; go buy me a beer

 

(jokes)

XXX

 

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Make light of it

 

 

 

 

Eat It

noteworthy, photography, rhymes and rhythm

Know the back of your fridge like the back of your mind

Keep in touch with the contents of cupboard

For it seems many people are widely resigned

To food wastage lately discovered

It’s not just a pack of fresh bread gone to waste

Though a small simple thing it may seem

Like poison in water may not have a taste

It still finds its way down the stream

There’s a bigger incredulous picture at stake

And if lucky you might sense your role

In the power you wield by being awake

And aware of waste’s energy toll

Now the sugar has travelled from China to Seoul

Then was packaged in Delhi to boot

And the butter flew in from New Zealand and earnt

Several thousand more air miles en route

And the flour was trucked across desert plains

To land in your crumpets and pie

Where you promptly forgot that Small Purchase you got

And it sat in the kitchen to die

And with each little waste that no one did taste

a part of me shrivels inside

this distortion of food versus need does allude

to a glutton of comfort prescribed

It seems so distorted to hear news reported

Of famine and people deprived

When finding that tupperware fare has been thwarted

And growth of black mold has arrived

It is not that I judge, I don’t aim to offend

Though it’s hard to let go every time

All habits can change with the will to amend

And avoid what I see as a crime

Oh harsh! You might say; Helen with your assumption

But how does change come lest with action?

Consumption without simple care finds resumption

And all blame is placed on distraction

I call out to those who have all that they need

To remember first food you possess

And if finding a great deal of wastage may need

To address the neglect of excess

peace

xx

Dumpster delicacies

Dumpster delicacies

Always make sure…

noteworthy, photography, travel

 

…you carry an axe camping.

Sure, the notion of being alone among several hundred kilometres of bushland has its hazards. For those not ripened in the camping arena, I shall inform thee of my new-found knowledge.

One is to worry much less about encountering potential lurking psychopaths than fallen trees. The latter proves to be almost unconquerable if said axe is not present for the road-block.

Even with an axe, your work will be cut out for you, so make sure someone else is there to do most of the hard work. After all; you’re on holiday.

 

That wattle…

 

But in the interest of honesty, make sure you do the hikes you went there for. It might be the most dreamy, golden, warm wattle-clad clearing you’ve ever parked a tent on, but the views from the top are guaranteed to make you glow… in and out, if you live in Australia.

 

Pigeontop Mountain

 

Then there’s the oft overlooked element: your company. For this trip, different people popped up like popcorn to make a bowl of delicious and hilariously satisfying adventures, now savoured by all kernels. You don’t need to know each other, just make sure you’re all of the same flavour, and remember; friends not on tether pop together.

 

peace

 

 

 

 

Let’s Hear a Story

living, loving, noteworthy, photography, travel

 

 

 

As promised, I went to the arid and dry.

Only, something had changed in the landscape of late.

Great plains, always salty, cracked and creeping on for miles sat below a liquid surface.

Here upon the plains a quiet; something stirred in ghostly waters.

Badger Bates, respected elder, told of slaughter on the flood plains; how the killing of native people echoed on and on for years.

It was then we heard the students who’d been present here before us often came to tears; unsettled in this place of darkened desert.

It was not until the elder smoked the students through a fire, and he spoke to spirits settled in this place of violent past. And what followed was a calm; a lifting light, a subtle sigh. The feeling of the landscape changed, no more they felt the morbid weight and felt no need to break the camp.

For my part, there I stood and felt with heart the toiling on the soil. My science told me “silly!” but my instinct knew much more. Who am I to judge from outside that the spirits were not haunting? There indeed existed much more than my sweeping visit told.

 

peace x

 

 

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Dear Australia, my home

living, loving, noteworthy, photography, travel

 

I love you. As I pack some things to head to remote Australia for a couple of weeks, I’m starting to think of the journeys I’ve taken in this part of the world, where landscapes almost too beautiful for words went flowing on for miles and into my camera lens.

 

I expect to be reinvigorated by the sparseness of space; the most elusive powerful element to the world we crowd today.

 

Regards,

A happy local.

 

 

 

 

peace out