Think Universe

Filmshort 40
Dancing – June Perkins

For all my friends who’ve lost a baby

‘Think universe,’
said the tiny spider
as it climbed upon its web.

‘Think universe,’
said the river as it flowed
from the mountain
to the coast.

‘Think universe,’ said the star
as it looked on
down from space.

‘Think universe,’ cried the mother
as she danced the
memory of
their baby’s face.

The star died
so the spider cried then
cast a thin thread
from the mountain to the coast
made a cradle for their baby’s soul
as the mother’s tears zoomed
into the sky.

‘Breathe universe
from the small up to the large,’
sang the moon
removing grieving’s curse.

It reminded the mother
she could mend
a dying universe.

(c) June Perkins

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Sky Water

Sky Water

A woman asks for water
aiming her camera at the sky.
Tracking the skies
for cosmic soul,
she frames a constellation.
in the dazzling light

A blind king
in a seemingly mundane world
spends moonless nights
surrounded by a wall;
he dreams of invisible light
falling into his kingdom’s river.

(c) June Perkins

Although I am having a break from most blogs and social media – I thought it would be fun whilst the family are on holiday to create some ‘found’ poems with a theme of universe and to create a few extended metaphors.

I enjoyed doing this when doing a recent poetry exploration of forms based on suggestions at Joyce Sidman’s website.

This one above, looks like two characters in a situation of drought just came into being. I wonder if they could be part of a new series. Time will tell. This one was inspired by a text book on astronomy and a book on Pacific Mythology.

You can find out more about how to create Found Poems Here

Ecology Quest – am I living a second childhood ?

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Stories in the Stone, Land, and Songs – June Perkins

Whilst thinking about how to deepen my writing about place – a love for ecological writing, nature writing, and an idea for a new book of poetry and story has been born, or surfaced.  Looking back I see there are hints of it, that perhaps I didn’t take notice of at the time, even though artists like Sasi Victorie and a writer/philosopher Nell Arnold told me it was there.

Every new essay and book read has been triggering an outpouring of thought. I follow trails, that seem to connect and double back on each other. Connections I could never have forseen appear – opera, wandering men who make the land their home, crocodiles, and plants weeping flowers that want to be named,

Songs of birds and humans, layers of land, story, culture, – the power of names, and the biographies of ecologists have been adding themselves to my consciousness, and rather than confusing they are clarifying and deepening my love for understanding the world around me.

An adolescent love of biology, a delight in the many documentaries of David Attenborough, and a love of stars have been combining to take me on a new writing journey.  I find myself watching documentaries on the origin of black holes. I look up the stories of the places I live in to find out: what the street names mean, who the Original peoples and Indigenous language groups are, and what are my old and new suburbs current cultural  and age demographics.  

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Art at the Goma – in Brisbane

In a picture book idea I find myself searching for a bird call I want to represent in language and following a trail of bird sites  This leads me to exploring side track after side track, but the time is not wasted. I am creatively gathering – building a nest, or is it wings.  I am asking questions like what did the birth of the moon cause?  I alternate between a nature essay and a notebook of ideas for poems, with snatches of yet to be fully formed verse.

Am I living a second childhood, or discovering this is a way I want to be more in the world?  Why is this way of being in the world, being more aware of its many layers, actually making me feel closer to my own soul?

Ah it seems something to unpack in poetry, that is for sure.

 (c) June Perkins, words and images

Ancient Ones

identity boots 2- self portrait flag and feet
Identity Feet by June Perkins

Ancient ones watch unseen
I never see them but others do.

They take them to be spirits that protect
and wonder that I can’t see them
when to them they’re so clear.

Uncle Neville comes to stay
tells me
‘there’s an old man watching outside your door.’

Later an old woman is listening to my poetry
as I stand in New Zealand before Maori women’s writing group
as their guest

Are they my bubus or are they more ancient still?
Where do they come from to remain unseen?

Do I feel their breath whenever I sing
calling to me
words to unpack the unknown?

Ancient ones form
invisible threads of light
stitch the bird song
the stars and insight.

(c) June Perkins, words and image

If Glass Could Talk

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Image By June Perkins

for Jacque

If only all the tiny shards of glass
bottle brown
wine green
yellow and purple orchid swirls
could talk

What would they say
if fragments realigned
knit themselves back
like broken bones entwined in casts
and heroes walked?

What if the paralysed
could miracle embrace
pain and grief
trauma and loss
till they walked with stars?

I breathe out Vincent’s starry night
from living room wall
to outside door
then coffee table book on my floor

I wonder – would he obsess about lost socks
from cyclone’s past?

 

(c) June Perkins

I wrote a series of poems tackling the responses and recovery to a cyclone, but they could be relevant to any form of recovery from trauma.

Night Fall

False Kiva
David Kingham – Flickr Creative Commons

Sun
sets, pink,
lavender,
orange paint the
sky.

First
star of
the night winks
brightly into
place.

Moon
slowly
rises, full,
high above the
land.

Thin
clouds drift
across–game
of peek-a-boo.
Veil.

One
star arcs
gracefully,
descending to
Earth.

By Sunny Dreamer

you are in the stars
TheVlue – Flickr Creative Commons

Thanks to Sunny Dreamer (Shiloh) for giving permission to share this poem on the blog – and for joining the guest poet list.

Visit her eloquent blog by clicking   Here