Wednesday, April 12, 2017

New Voices write in Centennial Park

In March I taught a workshop to the New Voices writing group, who meet in the Eastern suburbs of Sydney. Following our heatwaves of summer, we’d had dumpings of rain. I took them for a ginko into Centennial Park, from the Bondi Junction end. Here are our best efforts, with my echo to one of the haikus in each person’s work. 

pressing my nose
to the tree’s trunk -
Maori greeting


after the rain
blotched lichen on tree trunks
glows, grows.

this bare stick
plaything of dogs
once a flourishing branch


yes, always weeds,
happy about the rain -
I also


A cascade of branches
kissing the earth.
Not bending, connecting


it emerges
from under tree-skirts
perky white terrier


Centennial Park has multiple uses, and users. I love seeing the dogs so happy, free to bound around in a big space, with so many different smells.

burnt branch
shape of an iguana
car revs its nonchalance


like thunder
but more determined
an aircraft coming in


...and yes, it is a city park.

Poised trembling
Momentarily sun-kissed
A dewdrop waits

Bronze fronds
Spirally wrapped
Uncoil in grace

big juicy lillipilli
he picks them
she eats them


Haydn fortunately knew that it was okay to eat these fruit, which looked like they were dressed for the gym in bright pink lycra.  It brought back childhood memories of what we used to nibble on - we called them “monkey apples” in New Zealand.

Vertical gash
on spotted gum
red sap healing

Through spider’s web
moss encases
rough black trunk


the insects
have come out to play
a break in the rain

 I wanted to convey to this group that you can write from “don’t know mind” where things present themselves in a bare way.

ash colored curlicue prints
head of leaves
the blue gum is.


Yes, essentially  things just are. “Don’t know” does not mean that you don’t know that it is a blue gum.  Rosalie has captured this sense. Be it human greed or belligerence – that too, just is.

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