Category Archives: Poetry

Vanishing Point – Poem


A sleepless walker strides by dusk

The Brisbane River glassed

Beyond the vanishing point, houses blackened

A large orangey pink blanket covered the sky

It reflected on the river glass

Under the trees, an egret beamed

Its milky white feathers lit the roots

The walker disturbed the egret

The bird flew towards the orangey – pinkie sky

Looking to where the bird landed in the tree

The walker spots an odd couple – he tall and large

She is tiny and frail

They stand, side by side, arm’s length apart

Their arms are each folded; awkward

They stare into the river

Maybe they were speaking about the glassy river

Or the orange sky, the sleepless walker or the egret

There is a promise of love beyond the vanishing point

The walker smiles. Maybe sleep is coming tonight

Mother’s Creations – Poem


Handmade by Freda Kauc – acrylic and wool bag. (sold).

Mother

JK.Leahy  – Poem, Memoir

A wrinkled dusky pink sheet cradles a flowered meri blouse, a laplap and a bible – a word or two in the bible is for me, she echoes…

Room scented with sea, woods, coconut oil, eucalyptus and basil

A lotto ticket to set me up for life (her farewell and a surprise gift)

“If I won,” she always said, “I would let you decide what to do with the money”

We had laughed and discussed the possibilities

On the bed, an italic old-style farewell, handwritten in a very neat prose, mixing pidgin and dialect –

“Pawi – my child, I will miss being here…”

My mother was in a plane and gone

Twelve months threaded colourful bilums, gardens, and stories,

bringing me back to the first ten years of my life.

An assortment of brown hue – sculptured gum branches stacked for winter’s fires

Through the window, her many familiar artwork marked my surroundings, reminding me of her even bossy ways

-purple and green kaukau leaves sitting neatly on mounds

“You have sweet potatoes for winter”, her voice reminds me.

The large elephant leaves of pumpkin spreads and sprout golden flowers – a promise for more food.

But, I miss her telling me her stories.

Freda Kauc mobile phone bags.

See below some of my mother’s creations. All her bilums featured here were sold before she left Brisbane for Papua New Guinea. If anyone is interested to purchase my mother’s bags – please write to: joycelinleahy@gmail.com

Freda Kauc bilum – handbag.
Freda Kauc handbag and mobile phone bag.

 

Void – Poem


VOID: JK.Leahy Poetry

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A rippling void is dancing across endless waters,

yet returning in the dark night to stab at the heart

The cold wind sings this blackness like its favourite song,

The waves join the wind to mock, jeer and keep rolling by

Birds call, keep strong! fight!

A yearn deeper than the flows of strong murky rivers pushes forward

Thoughts tug at the heartstrings, jarring it with questions and rationales

A child could only wait; for a father could speak at any time

Day’s Reflection – Poetry


Day’s Reflection – Poetry

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JK.Leahy©

A reflection mirrors today

In trapped waters, blue melts white light

Finding its way as water may,

where leafy dense could not steal this sight

Far beyond, a rainbow display

as if to say, blue sky has come to stay

The Rainbow – Poetry


 

www.hdnicewallpapers.com
http://www.hdnicewallpapers.com

The Rainbow ©JK.Leahy

There is a rainbow

beyond the shadow

Where blended lights mellow

darkness lurks in shallow

Afraid of radiance’s glow

in obscurity, crevices open

Mind unlocks, and lets go

Beams will seek night

where bad memories hide

Upon the altar, a peace-offering

In spirit we build oneness

to end all writhing

And, we touch the rainbow

 

This poem is dedicated to all Papua New Guinean writers; fighting to find their voice in the literary world. To my readers, if you can relate to this poem and it applies to how you feel at this moment, then it is for you too.

A Storyteller


A Storyteller – Stories, Poetry & Art

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JK.Leahy Illustration, Jan 2016

A storyteller illustrates a story about a girl, her mother and a turtle.

As the graphite glistens like a medieval etching on stone, the crisp white paper grows pictures. The art dances and the images come together and get close in a circle.

The storyteller adds smiles on their faces; the story is going to have a happy ending.

But, as the three characters get closer during the shading, the storyteller accidentally gives the mother a tear. Another tear is added deliberately for balance. Then the storyteller gives the girl a tear, somewhat reluctantly. The storyteller’s eyes fill with tears.  She works faster as tears stream down her face. She begins to shade around the three characters. She cannot separate them. The storyteller is pulled into the circle, to the three characters. There is no separation. It is the law of nature. It is the law of memory and love. It is the law of characters that we love.

Moon Games – Poetry


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Moon in Bellbowrie. JK.Leahy picture©

Moon Games – JK.Leahy© Poetry

She waits for the day’s end

To let her luminous games begin

When yoke slips beyond horizon,

where naked eyes sees reflection,

she watches the day’s lingering torment

In his reluctance to let go of moment

The day throws hues of fire and gold,

across the massive body of water

And tiny fallen stars appear

where sand banks glisten sapphire

Dusk performs and summons night

to what we call evening.

She smiles, time is right

As shadows define, reaching tall,

the moon reveals herself, but only,

to be captured by wandering clouds

 

Surrounding Beauty – Poem


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Crescent Moon by Charles Hite – Free Stock Photography, Public Domain

Surrounding Beauty – JK. Leahy Poem

Life is surrounding beauty

Where crescent moon casts enough light

Your footsteps drum their own music

While walking gives life to your heart

Dead leaves dance in the breeze

Snail trail glistening in light’s reflections

Shadows creating their own art

An owl hoots and swoops low; you hear

A bat screeches that night is near

Before darkness swallows and hides you

Until new day seeks and finds you

 

 

Graveyard Bog


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JK.Leahy© picture of Wagang Village Cemetery, Lae, Papua New Guinea. Taken on 2/10/2015.

 

Graveyard Bog – A poem JK.Leahy©

The engine roared

Wipers squeezed

The rain splashed

and the tyres spun

Mud splattered

The night tensed

Beyond forest dense,

crosses stood tall,

like ladies in a ball

Peaceful they laid,

beneath the earth

As the sky opened,

the earth drank more

And as the car grunted,

the spirits flighted –

in the graveyard bog

(A true story.  My car was bogged in the cemetery a few nights ago.)