|
ENVIRONMENTAL MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE
An Environmental message in a bottle
washes onto
the shore ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"UNTREATED SEWAGE
CLOSES BEACH"
It is given another message
to take out to sea,
to be washed up onto
a distant shore ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"TANKER
SPILLS
LITRES OF OIL"
Where another message
will be stuck in it
before it is hurled
back into a sea full
of messages ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"WATER
LEVELS RISE"
Which constantly continue to
wash in with the tide
in the hope that someone
will take some notice ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"FOR
SALE:
GLASS BOTTLES"
Do something!
1994 'Journeys to The Point', Express Media Power Workshops Inc. Vic, p. 83.
LUKE ANDREW MORGAN
14.8.1971
- 26.2.1972
I felt
my little brother tonight.
I saw his smiling face.
It was years ago,
I was young,
didn’t really know
what was happening.
I couldn’t let go,
wouldn’t believe
it was so,
that he was gone.
Surviving
but not seen,
we communicate
in my dreams,
share a bond
that can’t be broken.
He taught me something important
when I was very young,
all people die,
the end will always come.
But memories live forever,
you can’t erase the heart,
once you are united
even death can’t tear you apart.
I’ve written so many poems
over the years,
all of them wishing
he was here
with me so I could
see his face,
take him to
a special place,
but I know
he’s already there.
1998
'The Second Worst Thing', Grief Anthology, Helen Annand (ed & pub),
p.8.
FLOTSAM
Walking barefoot
through cold wet sand,
Orion’s
belt sparkles above,
calm seas softly sigh
as plovers cry the call of night.
Billy hides in fright in bed
his pillow over his head,
she said she’d be back soon,
she left this afternoon.
Climbing smooth boulders,
resting feet amongst broken shells,
clouds
hide the Southern Cross,
branches sway with rustling leaves,
foxes scavenge through overflowing bins.
Billy gets up, turns on the light,
she never goes out alone at night,
getting a drink, comforted by the TV,
he wonders where she could possibly be.
Floating in the shallows,
being taken by the
tide,
arms spread wide, eyes closed,
caressed by the rising swell,
human flotsam floating out to sea.
Billy falls asleep on the chair,
the ocean’s deep and she is there,
seeing her in his dream he knows,
the tide comes in, then out it goes.
Walking in the light on dawn,
alone with only sea
and sky,
walking barefoot through
warm dry sand, the lonely image
of a sleeping boy beckons.
Billy hears a key unlock the door,
listens to footsteps touch the floor,
knowing it’s her, he is still with closed eyes,
softly crying, his mother covers him, he sighs.
2004 'Ask The Rain', NSW Poets Union Inc. Members Anthology, p.102.
|
