planning for Light

When I drift off and wander
homeless months no other man
is there, I take along my patterns:
Contemplation, Mindlessness,
Sexiness; behaviour-geese,
who nip and honk the conscience,
can only come so far
along these urban walkabouts,
being phoney with their fitness.
There’s a freeing up of feeling
moving as a witness —observing,
all at once, from an elevated place,
a break in the rain, the light
firing roof tops white; the sane
responsibility of iron, and tiles
are like these poems
under which I play and shelter,
they’re like a bus stop for the hands,
a carving for the mind to turn
polishing until, in it, I can admire
myself. And if wet Spring has sunlight
on her hands sometimes a little poem
self-seeds and grows a city Bush walk
by the same time next year.

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One Responseso far.

  1. Hi, I am quite new to poetry writing and have written very little free verse which I find very difficult. I enjoyed reading your poem ‘planning for Light’ very much and liked the interplay between daily living and artistic inspiration. So true.

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