the suns warmth
a benediction on my skin
the birds sing
Amazing Grace to You
the breeze stirs
lifting my spirit with it
and I know, all at once,
why-I-am
cloud cover moves in
chilling
but it would be too intense
to remain in Your presence always
You are a lot to take in
it is better this way
in pieces
to appreciate and savour You
to be converted to grace
again and again
in discovery – a joy, in acceptance – hope
rebirth in eucalypt spice and… <repeat> the sun’s warmth…
Talitha Fraser
Today as I walked
I passed a man
who was eating
an apple.
As I too was eating
an apple
we exchanged grave nods
acknowledging
what it is to have
a good apple, and
a good walk
Talitha Fraser
The day before yesterday I sat in the NZ Poetry section of Arty Bees and there were lots of titles I didn’t have a chance to peek into and I thought I’d jot down some of the titles of books I didn’t get to read and use them as a springboard for my own imagination to follow the pathway of poems unread…
Have a crack at using the title of one of these books to write a poem or short story of your own!
Here’s my effort sitting on a park bench in the sunshine round Oriental Parade…
Other Lives
A pigeon and I shared morning tea,
coconut rough and brine of the sea
our feet rest on yellowed moss over stony cement
I think he talked, or perhaps I dreamt
“See these clouds, this sky, the fountain,
the roads, the houses and there a mountain…
these are connected but you cannot see
these must co-exist in harmony
you affect I and I affect you
in the ways that we go and the things that we do
some have plenty and some not a lot,
it seems that we ought to share what we’ve got.
It is clear as the water, firm as the ground
certain as sunrise, at least, I have found.”
“But pigeon,” I ask, “What can we do?”
“Next time,” he answered, “you might buy two…”
Talitha Fraser
We rest in the grass
we rest in You
cool breeze stirs
bringing movement
the yellowing sun on closed lids
bringing reassurance, stillness
we seek – what will we find?
we listen – ducks on the pond, frogs in the reeds
the sh-ssh of wind in the eucalypt strands
to the sacred ordinariness of things
the answers are in you
the answers are in ourselves
the answers are in the story and
the story is still unfolding
Talitha Fraser
I sit in the middle of the river
and the river sits in the middle of me
won’t you come and sit by the river?
sit by the river a while with me
Talitha Fraser
my eyelids
draw downwards
shutters over grief
the senselessness
drops away
like a well within me
i try to get to the bottom of it
but i do not know
how far down it goes
my eyes open
just before i drown
Talitha Fraser
the tray of
daffodil bulbs from the dumpster
was mostly empty
but imagine
some day
at the tip
messy, smelly, unwanted things
the green shoots first
then golden trumpeting glory
in a unlikely place
Talitha Fraser (photo credit to Duncan Toms)
breathe
one breath
that’s it
now another
now you’re getting the hang of it
breathe out
that’s the way
and again
that’s the way
to life
Talitha Fraser
Uncomfortable in my own skin
I imagine I am a shapeshifter
I read… watch movies… to embody
someone else to get relief from myself
I try to escape who I am as if that person bores me, annoys me,
repels me
I think to love someone more than myself is ridiculously easy,
to love myself as I love others…
that is a very daunting thing
to imagine.
Who might I become if I were loved?
Talitha Fraser
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