An old one(untitled)written in tha W.A.Desert

Waters slowly fall
Through the valleys of the east,
Dreams found revealed
In the whirlepools spirial feast.

Love crossed my way
In a volume crisp and clear,
Leading my feet onto
The waters of your wier.

Waterfalls run inside
Touching emotion strings,
Feelings hidden away
Fly on silver wings.

Rapids swiftly rush
Through the canons of my mind,
Waves swish and splash
In a rocky island chime.

Along the way I stumbled
Along the path I rode,
Over the rivers bubbles and mumbles
To loves warm and contented abode.

Water

Water
Flood over me,
Pound the sea shore.
Let the sun
reflect those diamond sparkles,
Coloured prisms,twinkling.

Oh! the years go by,
Sandcastles crumble,
The grains washed smooth the years.
Moments and memories
Ebb and flow
As the tide on a distant shore.

Water
Flood over me,
In the naked light of dawn,
Set my soul free.

Ian Alias,The(once)Naked Man

My Home

How you calm me
With your pounding.
How you ease me
With your strength.
How could I live without you?
Or even attempt to try.
You were my companion during youth
And also my advisor at certain times.
So much power I feel
From you.
Your music is sweetest
On silent summer nights,
Accompanied perhaps by the shrill song of cicadas
Announcing their arrival.

Your beauty is boundless.
I sit here, still at awe
By your unyielding temperament.
Let your waves lick my wounds,
For the ocean is my home.

Kym Matthews

Rain

Outside the rain falls
And as each new drop descends,
Does the supply lessen?
Or does the surrendering of that drop
Give rise to others.
Is this then the anser toall - even ourselves?
Does surrendering not lessen the supply,
But merely gives rise for more?

Kym Matthews

Drowning

If I ever died a million ways
The way to die I wish would be,
To be born just once then taken and drowned,
And lost in eternity.

To have just emerged from a water-warmed world,
And taken just one day of breath,
Then taken away by a good set of hands
To greet water again at my death.

Knowing no thought between these two ends
Only glimpsing by the touch of that air.
Ending my life just as pure as the start
Nothing else would be fuller I dare.

Kym Matthews

*********************************

WATER - a suite of two poems by Isabel Telford

I Aqua Vita

In the dark and weightless space,
my home is sheltered
from an unforgiving world
as yet unknown; as time and motion
hold it’s breath……just for me.

I am a miracle of cell sufficiency, yet
by the knotted cord, she binds me to
her mother’s hopes, and loving expectation.
Through pulsing turbulence,
she whispers “come.”

As *REM sinks into tranquil sleep
within the muggy pond of nurture
which confines, constrains;
my aqua vita spills, gushes out
in primal force:
she strains, I weep. she grunts, I toil,
bearing forward to a tender meeting
with the singer of the songs
who gives me birth.
I feel her salty tears of life
upon my wrinkly skin…
and in a heartbeat,
water tolls the sorrow
of a watery end.

REM =rapid eye movement


2 Aqua Morte

Death enters in,
yet ‘life’ soars
in weightlessness,
all pain extinguished.
This sagging,
lifeless form
is but a ‘shade’
of much loved,
well worn landmarks,
sites of love’s caress
and sweetest kiss

Obscene and probing,
the canula violates
the flacid inert body,
still warm soft and pliant.
Internal fluids, blood, urine -
all the rest, quit; through orifices
great and small as one last tear
slides slowly down his sweet
and careworn face in silent tribute,
and as it leaves, we share a
moment till eternity.

The temple priest

Hiroki was our friend.
We introduced him to the surf at Crescent Head
and watched him nearly drown in the addictive foam.
His inexperience of waves surprised us.
Later, on the beach, he retched and lay
and let the sun dry him to the bone,
his enthusiasm for wetness spent.

Fast forward some years and I’m looking
at an image on the internet.
Hiroki faces the camera beside the garden he tends.
No water here. No tides.
He stands undrowned in a sea of sand,
not missing the swell. Rake in hand,
he creates safe shallows around islands of rock.

Does he remember the assault of the sea
the concrete waves
the passion of drowning?
Landlocked, does he dream of an ocean
formed by ebb tides and the moon?

Having lost his innocence of breakers,
does he crave the violent ocean depths
where currents rule and lovers drown?


Cathy McCallum

Water Words for Kym and Ian

Water that we have to drink,
Water we pour down the sink,
Water in the washing machine,
The water that we’ve used has been.

We waste it each and every day,
We exploit it in such a wasteful way,
But do we ever think to say,
Thanks to the gods who make it stay.

Now what, I ask you, can we do,
To save ourselves from the coming stew,
We will find ourselves so quick bereft,
That such little water we have left.

There’s water waste in every home on earth,
You’d not think there’s ere a dearth,
But just you wait my friends and see,
Until we have to guzzle someone’s filtered pee!

Oh! We’ll moan to him oh high,
When this wasteful world runs dry,
We’ll beg and beg, oh give us some,
It’s the water that we crave for dear ol’ chum.

Not to you, you holy roman pope,
You’re such an aqua silly dope,
You didn’t bring a drop to share, and
Your half a million mates they didn’t care.

For all the water they slurped and spilled,
Down all the gullets they with our aqua filled,
So now dear popie we have an Aussie dry,
You can clearly hear our farmers cry.

Out loud for help from old man Murray,
To send that flow in such a hurry,
But problem is, you see, ol’ mate,
They’ve shut up tight that old sluice gate.

Yet somewhere out beyond the great divide,
It’s hiding there, there is no doubt,
It’ll come one day with a vicious clout,
To flood the plains and land about.

The parched and dusty trampled ground,
We have battered without a halting sound,
No words of ‘wait’ or ‘woe’ did I wish to say,
Not thinking there would ever come that fateful day

When water would be such a scarce and precious drop,
That new charges, oh so high, we’ll have to cop,
But now the time, my wasteful friends, is nigh,
For all of us, to turn a leaf and keenly try

Another way to save that liquid cache,
From fast disappearing into ash,
Put on you thinking caps me hearty friends,
Get all those buckets and other odds and ends.

Then gather every drop you can,
That takes a fancy to fall into your pan,
And save it, crikey! for money or for love,
For it’s all the water you’ll ever gather from up above.

If not the world will surely come undone,
Then all these Water Words that I’ve begun,
Will shrivel up beneath that burning sun,
And make this verse not worth the fun

I had when writing couplets oh so grand,
For in my hurry to complete them here I stand,
Before you all in angst and trepidation,
Waiting for your grand applause and the jubilation

You would share in a tremendous burst,
For such a flow to quench our poetic thirst,
Of all ExStanza’s hopes on what oughta,
Be written here for Kym and Ian’s requested Water.


Adrian Kavanagh
Sunday, August 03, 2008