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 – 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 – 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.)
JK.Leahy©
The earth knows our time
We were born from the earth
For each of us, there is a clock ticking
The earth provides all we need
And when she is ready, she takes us
Sometimes, we know we are ready
Sometimes, we may not know.
But she will be ready to take us
In the Park – JK.Leahy©
Restless is the breeze
where light has ceased
Alone, I sit in the dark
where we kissed in the park
Heightened heat burns
And time rhythms heartbeat
I wait in the park
where our footsteps left a mark
Years worn boulders and
seedlings aged into forest
Grave is nearing
for our meeting in the park
My Cootha is one of my favourite places in Brisbane. My closest friend and my son’s godmother Marina works in the temperate gardens. Often when I visit her, this wooden contemporary bench is where we sit and have lunch. I painted this watercolour for her as a gift. The poem is just an observation of people who come to sit in the temperate gardens.
Craig Santos Perez, a native Chamoru born and raised on the Pacific Island of Guåhan (Guam), migrated with his family to California in 1995, and does not return home until fifteen years later.
From from unincorporated territory [guma’] emerges from the tension between arrival and departure to map the emotional and geographic cartographies of migration.
Featuring a variety of poetic forms (including lyric, narrative, documentary, and conceptual poems, dramatic monologues, and prose essays), the poet highlights the everyday struggles of staying connected to native origins and customs, while adjusting to new American cultures and terrains. Furthermore, this collection draws attention to, and protests, the violent currents of colonialism and militarism currently threatening Guåhan, a US territory since 1898 and a “strategic” location of US geopolitical power in the Asia-Pacific region.
Perez’s first two poetry books were published in 2008 and 2010.
Read more on Omnidawn
A Tender Bloom – ©JK.Leahy
Blooming succulent
Tender is her child
Radiant a beauty within
Softness is her skin
A spirit of iron built-in
Petals bruise at touch
Yet, in arid menace
Where dew is languished
She steals her solace
And thrives defiantly
I recently found this website poetryreincarnations and the links to videos of the poetry. The videos are beautiful and the animation are quite strange and amusing at the same time. I hope you can visit and enjoy.
Jim Clark, the creator of poetry reincarnations writes, here is a virtual movie of the great Charles Dickens reading his beautiful melancholic poem “Autumn Leaves” This poem likens the aging process with the season of Autumn was published under the title “George Edmund’s Song” around 1858. The poem is read superbly by the celebrated veteran Australian actor director Peter O’Shaughnessy. Peter has a brilliant website full of biographical and theatrical content and numerous recitals of poetry and plays spoken by him.
All rights are reserved on this video recording copyright Jim Clark 2011
George Edmunds’ Song…………
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around he here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
How like the hopes of childhood’s day,
Thick clust’ring on the bough!
How like those hopes in their decay-
How faded are they now!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
Wither’d leaves, wither’d leaves, that fly before the gale:
Withered leaves, withered leaves, ye tell a mournful tale,
Of love once true, and friends once kind,
And happy moments fled:
Dispersed by every breath of wind,
Forgotten, changed, or dead!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
Here is another video. If you like it, visit here to see more.
Brother – Poem JKLeahy ©
In her blood – I she bore
The umbilical cord, your core
A chance life, you survived
I called you brother
Independence gained you
And took you a long mile
Long enough to hide your smile
The umbilical cord severed
The distance held you prisoner
But kept you alive in memory
When I called out – “brother!”
Wind chimed in wide yonder
You found family in strangers
Where freedom was faltered
Death sought your surrender
Our hearts mangled forever
( On your 40th Rivona)
Tribalmystic Stories 