Writing Territory Unwritten

writing territories

Seeding ideas
somewhere in dream earth they grow into the trees that
my hands touch grow into the children from
the dream earth saying
‘give birth to me into your writing territory the territory
where there are no borders only the
deep ocean that you might not be able to breathe in
if you dive too far or the sky you can’t move
in due to gravity and a lack of wings.’

Hands, feet what do they do
do you know in the womb before you walk on the earth or are they
mysteries

I dig for my identity in the myths in
the stories in the dream of the earth’s birth
evolving, into the writer
who dreams of the hands and feet
formed in the clay on the mountain
seeing the story woven in the field

There is no territory you can’t dream
even the ocean deep
or the sky high flying in the dream sky

I throw up the ashes of grief
for the seed of the story
and I dream

writing territory 2

© June Perkins all rights reserved, words and images

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Rainbow Gaze

Frog in recovery – June Perkins

A day of rainbows
Everywhere I look

Frog recovering
And put into a mini hospital
Made by caring children
Perched on glass above a kite

Children dancing in playgrounds
Climbing high to the rainbow filtered sky
Wearing hats of technicolour

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Rainbow shade cover- June Perkins

Walls down narrow streets
Tagged and painted to chase
Away boredom with art

Rainbow gaze
day ablaze

With colours

(c) June Perkins

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Hats – by June Perkins
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Down Under Wall – Cairns – June Perkins

 

The Drum

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By June Perkins

I love that drum’s discordant sound
Parading round and round
It’s the source of freedom calls
Vibrating sound to ground.

To nomads stolen from Africa
It’s liberty’s lambada
Laughing/ leaping/ leading
Rebellion of many slaves.

Clapping/circling/celebrating
Clans joining other clans
Angapu and Maipa Fakai
In Maipa Village became one.
Rhythmic blues to cure the hated one
Cruelty’s aficionado parading
Round and round.

Conjure him some pictures
Of threatening/striding/clans
Red/ yellow/faces/advancing
Challenging his possession
Of the people he despises
For their colour/vigour/movement

The fool thinks he can deaden
Triumphant/ marrow rhythms/
Serene calypsos/allegro’s breathing
Life into our crying corpses.

Continuing calypsos
Breathing beauty’s moderatos
Speak of dancing loving marriages
Uniting all the people
Beyond their clans.

Oh joyous drum!
Give harmonies
Parading round and round

Renew your sounds of
Rain/Love/life
Around/ around/ around.

By June Perkins

Published in New England Review, Armidale, many years ago.

Coming of Age

sunrisethrugrass

I knew I had come of age when situations that puzzled me started to make sense-
there was no need to explain why my friend had no Dad and several uncles visiting
her mum in a caravan

and adults didn’t seem so old, but just as puzzled and confused as the children, some of the time, maybe even most of time, and that was disconcerting to know they didn’t have the answers just some experience and maybe wisdom picked up along the way and retained
if they took it to the next stage of life in a suitcase not a plastic bag

and when I could say ‘you just can’t do that to me because you know what I can tell someone
more powerful than you and they’ll put you in the back of a police van and you’ll
realise violence is no answer to a teenager that has realised you don’t hold all the cards,
you’ve flicked them away in a pack so the rest of us can play pick up.’

Growing up I always chose my own books, but coming of age meant choosing my pathways, university courses and having freedom of where to spend the summer holidays and not going home if I didn’t feel like it even as others spent every weekend back with families that were whole and sheltered them from the coming storm of life and instead I went and embraced the storm only to tie myself to a steady ship before I even turned twenty one.

By June Perkins

What does coming of age mean to you?

(Extract from a beginning of a possible poetry performance piece, inspired by TEDX peformances a friend sent me to watch.)