ripple project – Page 5 – June Paisa Perkins

Memory Land

The photograph reblogged is an example of some of my work in progress. I am setting a poem to some photographs from my mother’s visit to help my daughter learn about string bags and grass skirts.

It’s been such a busy time, with tutoring to organise and read up for, the kickstarter video to complete and the final quotes to gather, as well as mum and my niece visiting last week.

It’s so challenging at present to find windows of time to write in, so much more is going into editing and planning stories than the blog at present, so will be back here sometime for an update, but it may be super short.

I’m heading off to some poetry events this month, which will be my first since moving to Brisbane and I’m looking forward to discovering more about local poetry.

A lot of my writing at the moment is tutor plans and reflections on reading. Learning heaps about the short story !

Ripple Poetry

Extract from my poem – Slip Stream. Working it into a photographic presentation.

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MICA

I often feature poets I visit regularly on my Ripple Poetry Blog.

The following poem is an intriguing piece from Melissa Shaw Smith.

You’ll love her blog Woman with Landscape I’m sure.

Over time I’ll introduce a few more of my favourite blogging poets here. I aim to show some of the skeptics that online writing can be quality writing.

Not only that online writing can lead to discovering your own hidden talent.

This is what Melissa says about herself

Born and raised on whiskey and fairytales in Ireland, I now live and write in New York’s Hudson Valley. When I was a grub here’s what I wanted to be . . .

at 5, a nurse
at 6, a farmer’s wife

at 7, a storyteller.In reality, I grew up to be a theatre director, and a producer of documentaries and arts events.

http://www.waitingforbeckett.com.

I became a wife (but not a farmer’s wife), a mother of three, and rekindled my love of children’s books.

I realized what the 7 year old me had known all along—my true calling was to be a writer.

What makes me salivate? An exuberant half-wild garden, old, clothbound children’s books, art supplies, natural dyed yarns, spice markets, anywhere with a tantalizing smell.
Favorite places to hang out: by the sea, in a hammock, on a park bench, a crowded café, a mountaintop.
Favorite writing implement: fountain pen, knife sharpened pencil.
Person I’m most in awe of: a great teacher.
Talent I’d most like to have: to be able to make beautiful music.

Melissa Shaw-Smith

The man who balanced stones
took them home to bed with him, you know.

He rolled them under the covers
and ran the soles of his feet,

callous by callous,
over the fissures and dimples.

He knew the landscape of limestone and slate,
the terrain of every one of those globes of granite,

each freckle and glint of mica,
his namesake; and god knows the hands,

the great gulfed hands of a wall builder.
By day he pawed those bed stones of fieldstone

eyes closed to a flicker of emotion
and a slow sweet smile as

he found each one’s sweet spot—
the point at which it rested in perfect balance.

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Alphabet Father and Son

Alphabet father and son
pram wheels in late afternoon breeze
symbols of something
the poet thinks
‘perhaps they’re keys
– transfigured new age men.’

Robed in garments: peace and love
beaming virtues of transforming light
into actions of might
– guiding generations on their way.

(c) June Perkins

This poem may develop further or into series. There is so much discussion of domestic violence at the moment and what may stop it. I think of heroes like Rosie Batty who are bringing it into the spotlight of the media with their tireless work.

Sometimes I see signs of change – little seeds where there is no violence, only love. There’s a place for fathers, husbands, brothers, mothers, sisters, and children, to move beyond old habits and embrace a world that will be free from violence.

Sometimes it begins with the simplest transfigurations.

This poem first appeared on my Ripple Poetry Site. I am still experimenting with its final composition.

Visit my Ripple Poetry posting of it and let me know which version you prefer? Alphabet Father and Son: Ripple Poetry Site.

Shadows into Light

farm visit 128-005 — Light and Cane series – June Perkins

There are days when you can play
with shadows to see the light
you can find these on journeys
past cane and fallen down trees.

Life has corners you can’t see
twists and turns
still photography.

Sometimes we don’t see connections
We go and miss
the shimmering.
Sometimes we don’t see the beauty
We’ve forgotten how to feel.

You can chase the sunlight
across the window panes.
You can turn it into
anything you want.

Climb and clamber
shine and Sway
in the forests
light the way.

Capture a glimpse of connection
dream of nature’s rhapsody
make this a day to remember.
Chase the shadows into light.

Sometimes we don’t see connections.
We go and miss the shimmerings

Sometimes we don’t see the beauty,
We’ve forgotten how to feel.
Make this a day to remember
Chase the shadows into light

(c) June Perkins, song lyric.

Over at my ripple poetry blog I am sharing lots of poems on light, from my own work and other’s writings, in celebration of the International Year of Light. Here is one that I wrote after cyclone yasi.

Sorry Poem – Miranda speaks to her lost child

Continuing the story of Miranda and Jackson. Miranda is able to say goodbye to her lost child.

Ripple Poetry

i am sorry
my lost one
that choosing a name for you has taken so long
it’s just we had to find it for you
when we were swimming in the butterfly tears

i thought
i knew it before you were born
but we you were here and gone so soon
the name we’d picked didn’t seem to fit you
not just right

i thought we needed a name
that said something about
where you were going
and where you came from
perhaps two names side by side
to keep each other company

so it was that Nevaeh
meaning heaven came into my mind
and then Tuwa from Hopi
meaning Earth

i wish you could have felt the earth
beneath your bare feet
just once
so you could remember it

so my little butterfly girl
Tuwa Nevaeh
may your flight
from earth to heaven
be a flight
from the cocoon…

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