Tag Archives: poem

Search for the Stillness

Seaching for the stillness  – the first poem in a while over at ripple.   I am not putting as many poems on line as saving them for some competitions and publications.

This poem is in its early stages and will undergo some transformations but the theme is something I wanted to share as stillness and space away from social media can be just what’s needed to centre one’s own writing.

 

Ripple Poetry

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The silent space
beyond the threads

beyond tweeted tiny details
of everyone’s planet

the tendency of people
to overshare and demand
seeking their tiny minutes
of fame and infamy

those who peek out only
when they have something deep to say

those who hang out for intellectual
sustenance within the threads
of everyday

unravel in waves of concern
in a world like chorus
cheering and jeering at the sidelines of everyday

Connecting us to Maya
and Stephen Fry

silence calls
stillness waits

memes remind of the spiritual
the social obligation
friendship that is more
than threads

tendrils of humanity
respond

silence calls
stillness waits

this is the space
where story beckons

(to be continued – a first draft of the poem, it may change, a chorus to the poem is developing, and this one might be one to perform!)
(c) June Perkins

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For Tahirih

Megslossnavylblue2

“And the skies that breathe navy blue”

In Faith

Be a hollow reed
Waiting for melodies
And the notes that breathe skies
And the skies that breathe navy blue
And the navy blue that breathes sea
And the sea the breathes woman
And the woman that breathes of your unveiling and peeling away
That skin of your ego loosening and falling
The cocoon the morn
In Badasht last century
The morn.

By June Perkins

Recently I have been enjoying discussions with Baha’i writers and artists online.
I asked an abstract specialist Meg Sloss how she would illustrate this poem and she sent me the above image.
Thanks Meg. You can find more of Meg’s abstracts on at this link MEG’S ABSTRACTS

Another friend in that same group as suggested making the above poem into a dance, which really has me thinking. I’d love to have a dancer interpret this and then film it. So many creative ideas, hoping I will get around to doing them all.

You can find out more about Tahirih here.

Tahirih’s Story

Geranium Lake

This one for Vincent.

World Citizen Dreaming

Orquideas, pajaros y flores . Medellin - 2009 Medellin – Flickr Creative Commons

For Vincent Van Gough

I am a lover
Without love.

My church takes away
My Priesthood.

I am a Vicar
Whose church is
Esoine red,
Geranium lake.

I am a painter
Who half sees
Empty chairs
Geranium lakes,
Black crows.

I am Beethoven’s
Right hand man.

Curated light cancers
My cherry trees.

Our orchards bear white apples.

I am my painted
Yellow sunflowers.

I am a
Painted love geranium
Tormented
Esoine red.

By June Perkins

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This wheel doesn’t turn

For all of us who have had misbehaving trolleys. This is one of my ideas of the nightmares the suburbs hold and which imagination can conquer.

Ripple Poetry

trolley)

Image Credit Creative Commons, some rights reserved Michael Scott

This wheel doesn’t turn
the way that it should
it just has a soul of its own.

Frustration is crawling
under my skin
wheeling all over my day.

This wheel doesn’t turn
the way that it should
left is right
right is left
oh how I wish it would burn.

This feral stray
ignores toddlers’ screaming dismay
This suburban dragon metal
oh how I long it a kettle.

I want to escape
but not sure that I can
with a wheel that don’t
want to turn.

Time now I be a knight
train this disobedient trolley
left for left
right for right
but its like an unruly
windy upturned brolley.

So now I use logic’s magic
take left for right
and right for left
to help us out through the maze.

I think we can, I think we can
ride our…

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Art singing and dancing in the Streets

2014-05-07 2014-05-10 001 008
June Perkins – photograph of power box Brisbane

Art in the city, not shut away in galleries, but everywhere you look.
It’s on power boxes, telegraph poles, railway station walls.
climbs onto walls and alleyways.
chalked, painted, sprayed, and poster papered.

It’s murals with messages from Martin Luther King
everytime I used to catch the bus in Marrickville
I’d see his face with an Aboriginal flag behind it.

It’s pieces that make you think, smile, wonder remember nature.
Driving past telegraph poles to the Gold Coast
we catch nature wrapping itself around telegraph poles,
birds and trees just in case we don’t see the real
they’re there in art.
I would love to go back and photograph these artistic poles.

I think of the artists commissioned or perhaps underground ones.
What are their names?
Are their signatures there?
Is there a guidebook somewhere to tell me the story of the street art?

This street art tells stories – it’s symbolic and straightforward
it’s naive and surreal.
It doesn’t advertise, it’s an invitation to think, as diverse as the artists in the city.

And when street artists paint, what is going through their minds about the setting
their work will live in everyday.
Do they look at the trees, and the walls and reflect what is there
Or do they represent a dreaming beyond walls beyond the boundaries
of the city and the forest ?

I want to write a spoken word poem all about the street singing forart
and the art calling out on the street,
maybe it would be be performed by a pied poet walking the street with a busking guitar
with people flash mob dancing in the streets?

(c) June Perkins

 

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Image Credit Alex Aboud, Creative commons some rights reserved.

Alex Aboud, Creative commons some rights reserved.