June Poetry

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Uluru,_helicopter_viewAustralia is my Spirit

By Ronda Curtain

A silent sea of pink & yellow sunset melting into the dark of the night, night a light of golden stars to capture dreams of this land. The rising of glowing sun, laughter of the kookaburra, gum trees sway over twirling waters the Murray River with embedded stories, spirits of freedom mystery a unity of mate’s everlasting true of heart. I my spirit, this land Australia will remain as one.

Lady of St Kilda

By Tanya Voigt

AFTER-Lady-of-St-Kilda-Photo-by-Irene-Grynbaum-3-e1430712005348-660x400

Back in 1841

Punished by harsh weather

She glided over Port Phillip Bay

Once a fruit bearing trade vessel

Her legacy now a public art display

The restored decorative mural

Adjoins Balaclava railway overpass

Under a gentian blue sky

Hand painted artwork of

Welded metal is unmasked

As depicted in historical folklore

Mermaids rise over curled waves

Halicade lamps illuminate her

While down on bustling Carlisle Street

A cultural blend of people integrate

The Village

 By Ali Cat

Many many moons ago,

Before gadgets and gizmos and noises and lights

A Village became the Village it is,

With travellers wandering all through the night

Some had traveled long and hard,

Crossing dangerous shores, from rich foreign lands

Sailing the depths of the freezing blue Sea,

Their hearts and their hopes aching for the sand.

Some were just passing the Village by,

With stories, excitements, in strange sounding tongue

Sharing their travels and hoping their hopes

Dreaming for others to join in their fun.

Soon they settled, and planted their feet

Each one of them finding the place they belonged

No One more important than anyone else

A town needs its Strength as much as its Song.

Then one tragic evening the Vikings attacked

They came with their swords and their guns and their fear,

The Village in rubble, destroyed to the ground

Despair had crept in all the Village held dear

Then a man stood up, a quiet young man

With deep deep deep eyes and a soft spoken tongue

He didn’t say much, he spoke with such calm

But the Town recognized; A solution had come.

‘Let them fight with their swords and their guns

Let them hate and control and be bitter

We have our hearts and our hands and each other

And Fuck it, We have Paints and Glitter!!!

Their hopelessness slowly was lifting

Into laughter and paintings, Joyful embrace

We’ll just start again, and we’ll not let them win

A sword has no power, to a pure smiling face.

They painted and painted, each beautiful stroke

Was a bind in the heart and the hopes of the town

And the man who sat in the centre and watched

Can rightly and graciously welcome His Crown

Imagination CAN NOT be destroyed

Nor can Love, Nor can Laughter or Light

The depth into YOU is your reach into others

For our Brother, We’re willing to fight.

A Village is just that… right? A Village?

But we all know it’s more than just ‘space’

It’s a home and a safety, a heart and a song

A beautiful hand and a beautiful face.

YOURS xxx

 Love Love and more Love

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