There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.
There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,
......
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
......
I
We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage
And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die,
We Poets of the proud old lineage
Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why, -
What shall we tell you? Tales, marvellous tales
Of ships and stars and isles where good men rest,
Where nevermore the rose of sunset pales,
And winds and shadows fall towards the West:
......
I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorpes, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.
......
I wish I could take a quiet corner in the heart of my baby's very
own world.
I know it has stars that talk to him, and a sky that stoops
down to his face to amuse him with its silly clouds and rainbows.
Those who make believe to be dumb, and look as if they never
could move, come creeping to his window with their stories and with
trays crowded with bright toys.
I wish I could travel by the road that crosses baby's mind,
and out beyond all bounds;
Where messengers run errands for no cause between the kingdoms
......
You charm us, as little and as distant as you are,
sparkling with genuine passion for celestial traditions
which we crave downunder here
while looking up to you for superstitions.
In the dark night sky, I sail on the ocean of stars, looking for a ray of light, in a nebula of hope far away.
Cosmic dust dances slowly, whispering promises of the future, amidst the eerie darkness, I found a glimmer of light.
Oh, nebula, the vortex of dreams that never goes out, you draw a path in the dark, towards a day full of courage. Every colour you emit, is a prayer that floats into the sky, touching the throne of the Creator, carve your destiny with love and hope.
So let me fly, penetrate the endless sky, with the hope of being a guide, into a new universe.
Slipi. 05 December 2024. 9:19 PM
summoned black diamond
sun's at other side of night
with the dream roses
heart of joy twinkling
gone down in sea of colors
star of plum evening
still in its peach prime
and dust of the day settles
......
a hot day, white light
lime green leaves and roses gleam
in the starlight phase
scintillating sun
with its fierce glare everywhere
except long shadows
captives of white heat
as sun shows its true colors
......
Imagine
The charcoal-with-sap-glitter,
Obsidian glass-domed,
gold sprinkled, dew shimmered,
elusively mountainous night sky;
With the porcelain and mother-of-pearl,
dragonfly wing, china-and-talc,
silvery, glowing moon hung on it.
A milk-gilded veil of clouds
......