Poetry
Monday, April 22, 2013
Stepping Back
Life:
Strands of colour,
Separate yet interwoven.
Each hue
Influences the weaving,
Defines the other.
A complex tapestry:
Indiscernible when close;
Recognisable only at a distance.
© Christine M Knight
Strands of colour,
Separate yet interwoven.
Each hue
Influences the weaving,
Defines the other.
A complex tapestry:
Indiscernible when close;
Recognisable only at a distance.
© Christine M Knight
Monday, April 22, 2013
Fair Winds and Following Seas
Do not stay anchored in the blinding night.
Unload the cargo that brought you to this dock.
Get out the maps and chart your course.
Cast off the tethers that hold you fast;
They have served their purpose
But now it's time to depart this dark harbour.
Weigh anchor before the dawning light.
Do not delay for fear the tide won't turn;
It will as sure as night fades into day.
Steer your ship with hope towards calmer seas
Although they are beyond the horizon.
Celestial markers will indicate the way.
Take heart that other tempest-docked travellers
Have lived to tell tales of better days.
© Christine M Knight
Unload the cargo that brought you to this dock.
Get out the maps and chart your course.
Cast off the tethers that hold you fast;
They have served their purpose
But now it's time to depart this dark harbour.
Weigh anchor before the dawning light.
Do not delay for fear the tide won't turn;
It will as sure as night fades into day.
Steer your ship with hope towards calmer seas
Although they are beyond the horizon.
Celestial markers will indicate the way.
Take heart that other tempest-docked travellers
Have lived to tell tales of better days.
© Christine M Knight
Monday, April 22, 2013
German Mark
In clumps, they make a stand at Bonn station -
Eastern Goths of the modern day:
Bodies pierced,
Hair recut in the style of the barbarian,
Drab dark dress,
Colourless lives.
Separated from the affluent world that surrounds them
By an alcohol induced fog and a haze of tobacco and drugs,
The Goths, in solidarity, stamp against the cold and fading light.
Their graffitied environment,
Outmoded marks,
Record the impulse to imprint
That they were ...
An unaddressed wound in a wary West.
©Christine M Knight
Eastern Goths of the modern day:
Bodies pierced,
Hair recut in the style of the barbarian,
Drab dark dress,
Colourless lives.
Separated from the affluent world that surrounds them
By an alcohol induced fog and a haze of tobacco and drugs,
The Goths, in solidarity, stamp against the cold and fading light.
Their graffitied environment,
Outmoded marks,
Record the impulse to imprint
That they were ...
An unaddressed wound in a wary West.
©Christine M Knight
Monday, April 22, 2013
Seasoned
Growing up in Australia,
I saw, but didn't 'see', the seasonal changes,
The effects of temperature and light,
The landscape palette:
Summer's orange wash,
Winter's mauve hues.
I gave little thought to
Bird life feeding one day
Then disappearing the next
Before the skeletal starkness,
The muted cold of winter.
I responded reflexively to the thaw,
Welcoming daylight's edge toward Spring.
I heard birds return with a song and a screech,
Signaling the seasonal shift.
The warbling, glottal throaty harmonies of currawongs,
The antiphony undersong of dawn,
The variegated native grasses,
The masses of wildflowers decorating roadside and grassland
Were the unrealized backdrop to my life.
Living in San Antonio, Texas,
Seasons assumed new meaning.
From Spring to Fall
As daylight lingered,
Faded,
Skeins of bats unfurled,
In the unyielding darkness of caves,
Responding to a pre-programmed call.
In twilight, they emerged,
In whorls,
Flying overhead,
Wave after wave,
Devouring in a frenzy the insect horde,
The sky a flickering canvas of bat shadows and twilight.
In Autumn,
Monarch butterflies migrated,
In a light flurry of stained-glass wing,
Southward,
Sensing their way to roosting havens
Before the freeze of winter.
In Spring
Flocks of birds,
Over two miles long,
Peppered the sky,
Surged on the pulse of air currents,
Northward bound,
Fireworks bursts of black against the brilliant sky.
Life:
Goings and comings,
Ebb and flow,
The dying and blossoming of nature,
Dark moments when all seems lost,
Light days as hope returns.
Dark lines, shades, and shadows
In Life's landscape,
Do more than focus the eye,
They define the scene and seen.
©Christine M Knight
I saw, but didn't 'see', the seasonal changes,
The effects of temperature and light,
The landscape palette:
Summer's orange wash,
Winter's mauve hues.
I gave little thought to
Bird life feeding one day
Then disappearing the next
Before the skeletal starkness,
The muted cold of winter.
I responded reflexively to the thaw,
Welcoming daylight's edge toward Spring.
I heard birds return with a song and a screech,
Signaling the seasonal shift.
The warbling, glottal throaty harmonies of currawongs,
The antiphony undersong of dawn,
The variegated native grasses,
The masses of wildflowers decorating roadside and grassland
Were the unrealized backdrop to my life.
Living in San Antonio, Texas,
Seasons assumed new meaning.
From Spring to Fall
As daylight lingered,
Faded,
Skeins of bats unfurled,
In the unyielding darkness of caves,
Responding to a pre-programmed call.
In twilight, they emerged,
In whorls,
Flying overhead,
Wave after wave,
Devouring in a frenzy the insect horde,
The sky a flickering canvas of bat shadows and twilight.
In Autumn,
Monarch butterflies migrated,
In a light flurry of stained-glass wing,
Southward,
Sensing their way to roosting havens
Before the freeze of winter.
In Spring
Flocks of birds,
Over two miles long,
Peppered the sky,
Surged on the pulse of air currents,
Northward bound,
Fireworks bursts of black against the brilliant sky.
Life:
Goings and comings,
Ebb and flow,
The dying and blossoming of nature,
Dark moments when all seems lost,
Light days as hope returns.
Dark lines, shades, and shadows
In Life's landscape,
Do more than focus the eye,
They define the scene and seen.
©Christine M Knight
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