Saturday, February 28, 2015

Post it Note Poetry 2015 – The End

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So today marks the end of Post It Note Poetry 2015 for me.  I managed 24 poems, not as many as I hoped but still a good turn out.  Here are my last three, followed by the previous 21.

 

walk trail

that I helped build

still here

the signpost points me

to your memory

 

rocky beach

the sea retreating

from morning heat

 

reading poems

gulls mistake page turns

for chip wrap

 


drab plumage

a bird lies on the footpath

dressed for a funeral

the hymns don't match

the morning birdsong

 

nasal whistle in the night – a rusty gate

 

The Old Gate

On a windy night

the old gate copped

its share of curses

But come morning

it still did its duty

announcing salesmen

and Mormons

 

My brother oiled it

once and like our father's snoring

it's absence left a vacuum

for worry

 

southerly wind   seagull practises crane technique

 

twilight   cherry blossom cups gather autumn

 

dissociate

dropping its head

the seagull contemplates

its feet

as if noticing

for the first time

they are webbed

and he is a seagull

i greet an old man

before realizing

he is me

in the mirror

 

so much depends

no raindrops

adorn

this white

wheelbarrow

only the chicken’s

leavings

on which so much

depends

 

limewashed sky     a chorus of ravens curse the heat

 

limestone ruins

seasoning the hillside

pepper trees

 

faded horizon

a boat sailing in the sky

 

past midnight

the moon searches through branches

for sleep

 

tapping morse

on the windows

a swarm of moths

herald the oncoming

storm

 

blistered hand     I dig with my pen instead

 

long dead

the first hand to hew this stone

and its fossils

 

long summer

the bees take payment

in water

 

old farm midden

digging through broken history

an empty bottle

still carries a message

from the hand that tossed it

 

furuike ya

a handful of translations

like snowflakes

 

cool change   the monks of Gyüto sing from my bottle

 

each year

silk flowers by the road

on the same day

 

a house

for fading memories

this stone

catching my tears as I

try to remember his face

 

heat wave

even the Chilli bush

prays for rain

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