The midas bird

THE MIDAS BIRD Mark Scrivener 1


©Mark Scrivener 2011

POEM


THE MIDAS BIRD

SHELL ON THE SHELF

THE BREEZE ASKS THE LEAVES

THE WINGS OF THE HOURS

TELL ME NOW, WHAT IS MY NAME?

GARUDA

SONG OF THE SUN

THE KOOKABURRA CALLS AT DAWN

THE LION AND THE MOUSE

CAT AT DAYBREAK

IF THINGS COULD SPEAK

CITY MORNING

FOUR SUMMER HAIKU

WHAT’S MY NAME?

THE NAMING OF THE DAYS

BEES

EAGLE RISING

YESTERDAY

CURRAWONG CRY

DOLPHINS ARE FLOWING

TWO JUNGLE TONGUE-TWISTERS

PHASES

RIDDLES

DANDELIONS

FIRST FOX

GRIFFIN

FOUR AUTUMN HAIKU

LAKE WITH PELICAN

NIGHT

RAINDROPS

THE MAGICIAN’S HELPER

WHAT TREE AM I?


SEAHORSES

METEOR

FOUR WINTER HAIKU

GLOW-WORMS

A RHYME OF RIDDLES

WIND AND STONE

THE SPELL OF LIFE

FIREFLY

SLOWLY, SO SLOWLY THE SNAIL

THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUN

WINTER RAIN ON TOWN AND LAND

WHO AM I?

MOTH UPON THE WINDOW PANE

SUMMER SINGERS

FLYING A KITE

FOUR SPRING HAIKU

SURFERS

THE BLACK KNIGHT

THE EXPLORER

WITHIN

THE KING WHO BELIEVED EVERYTHING

THE SONG OF THE WIND

THIS LUNAR NIGHT

TO A REDDENING LEAF

THE TOWN MOUSE AND THE COUNTRY MOUSE

WHAT AM I?

UNICORN

MY BINOCULARS

LIZARDS

Asnswers to Riddles


THE MIDAS BIRD

Perched upon a dead, grey tree,

A single ibis views

A valley ringed by twilight hills-

But, from where I stand, I see

Far sun west-gleaming golden hues.

And suddenly,

With a Midas touch, it wills

The white bird into gold for me.


SHELL ON THE SHELF

A sand-snail shell rests on the shelf,

with time-traced whorls of growing’s curve,

a swirl of logarithmic spiral.

And so it sits in still completedness,

far from the vast, wave-rippled ocean;

so purely formed, brown and alone,

far from its forming, slow creation,

where curves of water, time and life

were gradually gathered into stone.


THE BREEZE ASKS THE LEAVES

Oh, green leaves on the trees,

Will you sing with this breeze,

Will you whisper and hustle,

Will you flutter and bustle,

Will you sing out my soft-breathing song?

Oh, green clusters on high,

Will you chatter and sigh,

As I rush right along?

Will you murmur and swish,

Will you rustle and hiss,

Will you sing to the songs of my choice?

Will you be this wind's voice?

Oh, you faded, dead leaves,

Will you fall from your trees,

Will you dance with this breeze?

In pale crowds I can clutch,

Will you stir to my touch?

Oh, you leaves that are shed,

Brown, yellow, and red,

Will you scatter and twirl,

Will you run, roll, and swirl,

Will you race, leap and whirl,

Will you follow my far-roaming beat?


Will you be this wind's feet?


THE WINGS OF THE HOURS

Twenty-four birds at the break of the day;

Twenty-four birds fly up and away.

Some of them pearl, some golden-bright,

Twenty-four birds rising up in swift flight.

Some of the moon, some of the sun;

Each of them soaring, one after one.

Some fly in silence, some sing a song-

But when they have flown, where have they gone?



ONE

I'm ever-changing, yet the same-

There was a stream before I came.

A thunder in the silent land,

I'm ever tumbling, yet I stand.

I'm ever raining in clear day,

And ever passing yet I stay.

TWO

To use me well you hit my head,

While trying not to let me fall.

And I am buried, but not dead,

For metal-made, I never lived at all.

THREE

Though but a thing of words I can

Be deadlier than the serpent's bite.

For if I tell you what is right

Then I'm not being what I am.

But if you say that I am true,

Then truly I am born anew.


FOUR

Sails have I, but not at sea;

Yet the wind will work for me.

Mine was once a grinding task.

Now it's power that you ask

From my tall and mighty frame

Or water on the dusty plain.

Tell me now, what is my name?


GARUDA

Garuda, god bird of the light,

Sweep down upon the dark of night.

Snatch up the serpent of the shadow,

And bear it to the sun-clear height.

Garuda, with your wings like flame,

Swoop down upon the gloomy plain,

Defeat the warriors of night.

With your swift arrow rays of light.

Sing of the light,

Sing of clear sight,

Praise to the sun,

The clear – shining one.

Spread your wide wings

Like far – reaching seeing,

Knowing all things

To the depths of their being.

Garuda, god-bird of the sun,

Tell us that the dawn has come,

Banish all the mists of night

With your wings of dazzling light!


Garuda, with your shining flight,

Bring us all the gift of sight!


SONG OF THE SUN

Come beams of light from heights of space,

And shine and ray upon this place.

Come chase the coldness from the air;

Bring warmth and light to everywhere,

And heat the stones and ripen grain.

Disperse the clouds on which you gaze

With your clear-wise and fiery blaze.

Shine out upon the storm-wet leaves,

And let the birds sing in the trees.

Come, oh gentle sunbeams, come.

Warm the earth where tempests played;

Kiss the flowers with soothing rays.

Summon lizards from beneath brown leaves.

Let the birds fly from the trees

Into the vastness of the air

To wing on warming currents there.

Shine and shine, oh, warming blaze.

Beam and beam your burning rays;

Change air into a shimmering haze,

And bring my fire to the old earth now.

Butterflies dance from flower to flower,

Humming bees seek nectar there,


Through the drowsy, heavy air.

Glitter and glow on sea and land,

Spread your heat on every hand.

Fill the world with colour; light

The world around with blazing might!


THE KOOKABURRA CALLS AT DAWN

Kookaburra, kookaburra,

All your laughter, all your laughter

Rings across the rising dawn.


All your laughter, all your laughter

Calls the new day to be born.

Calls the laughter of the light,

Bringing all the world new sight.


Waking all the world from slumber,

Calling all the world to wonder

At the power of the sun

And the new day’s that’s begun.


THE LION AND THE MOUSE

A lion was sleeping peacefully,

Beneath a great and shady tree,

When a tiny mouse ran cheekily

Across his heavy paw;

Which made him wake up suddenly

And give a mighty roar.

His paw upon the mouse he clapped

And held the little creature trapped.

“How dare you wake me while I napped

Beneath this shady tree?

I've half a mind to eat you up

For acting cheekily!”

“Oh, spare me, spare me, please, dear lion,

Oh, spare this little life of mine!”

The small mouse begged. “I'm sure I'll find

A way to pay you back!

Yes, please, great king of beasts, be kind

And you'll be glad of that.”

Now this amused the lion no end;

“You are so proud, my little friend.

How could you help me or defend


A creature such as I?

I'm great, you're small. And yet I'll send

You on your way to try.”

Quite soon, however, it came to be

That hunters caught the lion and he

Was tied up to a mighty tree:

Bound strongly, tight and trim;

While they went off, quite hurriedly,

To fetch a cage for him.

The little mouse heard his wild roar

And scurried up to him to gnaw

The knot that bound him. More and more

Rope strands he nibbled through,

Until the lion with one heave tore

The binding rope in two.

“My tiny friend, my mighty power

Would not have saved my skin just now,”

The great lion purred. “But you, this hour,

Though you're so weak and small,

Could help me with your smart know-how

To do what I could not at all!”

“My mighty friend, my tiny power

Has saved you from the hunters now,”


The small mouse squeaked. “There comes an hour

When even the strongest need

A little help. You see, that's how

I have paid back your kindly deed!”


CAT AT DAYBREAK

I see, at break of day when first birds stir,

The cat awake and taking in the scene.

The first light catches on her long, white fur

And shapes her, sphinx-like, from the general green.

And as she sits upon the dew-damp lawn,

With yellow eyes she sees the yellow dawn.


IF THINGS COULD SPEAK

If things could speak I wonder what they’d say?

What’s cried by ravens rising with the day?

Or growled by restless lions behind zoo bars?

Or bellowed by a bull in some far field?

What secrets could be whispered from the stars?

Old mother earth revolving through the hours?

In buried, ancient stones what tales are sealed?

What’s written in the shapes of fruits and flowers?

What’s felt by worms that feed on fallen leaves?

What songs are sung by dolphins in the seas?

A storm wind whistling through the swaying trees?

What meaning’s hummed by sun – warm, buzzing bees?

What words would echo from the boom of thunder?

If only things could speak to us, I wonder?


CITY MORNING

Earth’s journeyed through the turn of night;

The sun’s upon our sky.

Day slips the city into gear.

The morning mass migration’s here.

Clocks’ shrill awakening.

The dreaming eyes are opening

And looking with daysight,

And seeing in the given light.

Now people wake and dress and eat:

Day-starting rituals, habit-neat.

And carlines fill road patterns,

And carriages track metal trails.

Clocks mark workstart. Commuters yawn.

And humankind

moves past another dawn.


FOUR SUMMER HAIKU

ONE

Wind surfers furrow

Sun-rippling water. Bright sails.

Summer butterflies.

TWO

Mowing summer-high

Lawn reduces to ruins

Empires of ants.

THREE

Past waving, wet grass-

Dragonfly. Four wings flashing

Summer on the breeze.

FOUR

Listen to warm night.

Wide river ripples bright moon;

Whispering silence.


WHAT'S MY NAME?

ONE

I have no body, just a shape,

As upon the ground I lie;

But body's shape I imitate.

Now tell me, quickly, what am I?

TWO

I'm in light but not in night.

I'm in look but not in sight,

In love and life but not in time;

In length and line but not in rhyme.

THREE

Deep in the night, far from all towns,

You may hear me, I'll be around.

I am the voice of stones, of stars,

But not the sound you get from cars;

The words of one whose lips won't part,

And deeply hidden in your heart.


FOUR

I am found upon the sands.

You make me but not with hands.

If you're still, I cease to be.

Tell me now your name for me.


THE NAMING OF THE DAYS

Sunday is the sun's own day;

Powerful-glows his warm, bright ray.

Monday has the moon's fine sign;

Pale and silver-white her shine.

Tuesday carries Tiw's name;

Strength of courage is his claim.

Wotan's day is Wednesday here;

Wisdom brings he, deep and clear.

Thursday's Thor, whose hammer blow

Makes thunder roll and lightning glow.

Friday comes from Freya the Fair;

Goddess of love with golden hair.

Saturn rules on Saturday;

Father Time moves on his way.

So once more comes Sunday's dawn;

Seven more days will be born.


Seven days, forever new,

These are days all named for you.


BEES

Through blazing sunshine's warming rays,

On the summer breeze,

Through lazy day's hot, drowsy haze,

Come the humming bees.

Their gazes trace the sun's sky place

To guide them to sweet treasure;

As they go buzzing through day's space

And run the hive-dance measure.

A lizard lies in lazy ease,

Snoozing through the hours;

But round these blossoming lemon trees,

These bees visit flowers.

Still busy, buzzing bees are coming,

As a cloud around-

Surrounding blooms with golden humming:

Honeycomb of sound.


EAGLE RISING

Look there!

Upon that dead,

decapitated tree trunk, bare

in contrast with the sunlit spread

of greenness after recent rain,

hunches a huge, black bird.

She sees us, launches free,

lays wide wings on the spiral of the air

and circles with an easy care,

eyes scanning. Long feathers on wings’ ends

soft-feel the breath of sky.

At home on the highway of the winds,

she rides the unseen, rising path;

and dwindles, vanishing from view,

into her far, unfeatured,

fenceless

pastures of the blue.


YESTERDAY

Where does yesterday go?

Do you know? Do you know?

If time flies,

Where does it go,

To what strange skies?

A wise, old owl

Whispered to me,

“Go down the pathways of the past,

Turn the silver key,

Open the golden gate at last.

What do you find?

Use the eyes of your mind.”

“Has yesterday

All gone away

And vanished now

Entirely?

Or is it there,

In the magical air;

In the hidden kingdom

Of Memory?”


CURRAWONG CRY

Sing my song, sing my song,

Currawong, currawong;

Summer's long, summer's long,


Sun is strong, sun is strong,

Cloud will come, cloud will come,

Hiding sun, hiding sun;

Storm will roar, storm will roar,

Rain will pour, rain will pour;

Summer's long, summer's long,


Sing my song, sing my song-

Currawong!


DOLPHINS ARE FLOWING

Dolphins are flowing

Through the blue ocean;

Glistening, glowing-

Swift is their motion.

Rising and leaping,

Suddenly seen;

Splashing and peeping

From the blue dream

Of the vast ocean-

Gleaming-grey, going

Like laughter flowing,


Where the waves foam

On the wide sea;

Where the gulls roam,

Flying and free;

They are at home-

Where the ships sail

From every quarter;

Where the winds wail


Over wide water.

Where the long waves

Flow and up-well;

Where sunlight plays

On the wide swell-

Dolphins are going,

Gleaming and glowing,

Sliding and flowing,

Through the blue ocean;



TWO JUNGLE TONGUE TWISTERS

ONE

Now the trees are all groaning in growling, rough gales;

With their horrible roaring they roll all around,

Such leaf-rousing, branch-ruining, ripping, raw wails,

Such a terrible, raging and tree-wrecking sound!

TWO

Slinking, sliding, slithering slyly,

Swiftly shipping through the grasses shyly,

Silent but for swish and hiss

Is the sinuous snake’s leglessness.


PHASES

High through the sky

Forever I fly,

Cries the white moon,

Sighing her tune.

When I am new,

I'm hiding from you;

Like a seed's birth,

Lying in earth.

My waxing means growing;

So comes my first sign:

Curved slice of shine;

Thin, crescent moon's glowing.

First quarter means

Half my face shows;

White are my beams,

A half circle glows.

Then night after night,

I grow and I grow,

Shining my light

On dark earth below.


Ascending the sky,

I shine through the leaves;

Gliding on high,

I shine on the trees.

Sparkling on waves,

I ride through the sky;

I shine into caves

Where wild, the winds sigh.

At more than half bright;

As gibbous I'm known;

Strong is my light,

The night is my own.

And when I grow round

Then full is my face;

I shine all around

And light every place.

I gleam on night's dew

With pale, silver light;

I light the dark view,

Shining full-bright.

Then waning my light


Is dying away;

As night after night,

I glide on my way.

The last quarter means

My shine is half gone;

Still bright are my beams

As I keep shining on.

Until I remain

Only sickle of shine;

A crescent again,

Fading with time.

Till every last ray

Is gone from your sight;

I'm hidden away,

Concealed in the night.

Once more I'll grow

Just like a smile;

New crescent's glow,

Westward awhile.

Yes, I'll grow once more,

That is quite sure-

Twenty-eight are the days


Of my changing phase.

High through the sky,

Forever I fly,

Cries the white moon,

Sighing her tune.


RIDDLES

ONE

Though never seen, I’m in the bee,

Not in the rock, but in the tree.

All things that breathe, all things that grow

Have me. What am I? Do you know?

TWO

Always passing, never gone;

Sometimes short and sometimes long;

Younger than tomorrow, older than the sun;

I’m never seen by anyone.

THREE

I see all things, but never see myself;

Except in the mirror on the shelf.

FOUR

When day is done

That’s when I come;

And I have gold

No hand can hold.

FIVE

I ride upon the ocean’s face;


And when I’ve gone I leave no trace,

My top turns white when I’m near land,

I end my life upon the sand.

SIX

I travel everywhere,

Through clouds and through the air;

I’m never seen by any eye;

And yet I colour earth and sky.

SEVEN

I dance and I leap without any feet;

I hiss and I crackle but I never speak;

Giving light when day is done,

Giving heat when cold has come.


DANDELIONS

Dandelions, their yellows dancing

on green stretches of fresh grass,

lift their round and raying flowers

to the light whose love leaves life.

From the warm, dark earth unfolding

blooms of bright, fine petal-rays,

each seems striving to reflect

far, far sun's abounding blaze.


FIRST FOX

Over neighboring, winter-wet paddocks you passed,

Hunting-hungry from shelter in hills after rain,

Just the flash of a form, like a swift, orange flame,

Just so fugitive, furtive and feral and fast,

That at first eyes might miss it, except that on green

That burnt color is startling; a shape lithe and lean,

With your bushy, bright brush.

Though you’re classed as invader,

As mere vermin, unwanted, a sly chicken-raider,

You’re so poised in alertness, and ready to act,

That I cannot help feeling a certain respect,

As you vanish in silence like a leaf on the wind;

First fox that I’ve seen since I’ve lived on this land.

GRIFFIN


In the mountains of the myth,

I stand watching over treasure,

Guarding gold of deep, dark caves,

Sparkling wealth beyond all measure.

Beak of eagle, claw of lion,

Wide my wings and fierce my face,

I shall keep all worthless seekers,

From the gold of wisdom’s place.

Only those with clear, wide vision,

Like the eagle’s soaring flight;

Only those with steadfast courage,

Like the lion’s royal might;

May pass by my mighty presence,

May pass by my guarding way,

May return with wisdom’s treasure

To the common light of day.

Wing of eagle, paw of lion,

Strong my limbs, and great my cry;

I shall guard the secret treasure

From the false, unworthy eye.


FOUR AUTUMN HAIKU

ONE

Clouded autumn dusk’s

Stillness. From roadside’s dark bank

One lone cricket calls.

TWO

By ghost sphere afloat

In autumn blue, flash white wings –

Seagull and the moon.

THREE

The gold moon sets in

Late darkness. Autumn wind sighs

Through a half-built house.

FOUR

Black on an autumn

Rose-gold dusk, in slightest breeze,

High, thin gum leaves dance.


LAKE WITH PELICAN

The low sun and a light cool breeze

have spun a shining spell of shifting,

brief sparks on wavelets of the waters.

Two ducks sail in the dusk lagoon.

Between the long and ripple-edged,

green islands of the rustling reeds

a pelican glides peacefully

with a curious, gaunt dignity.

With cautious, crane-like walk a black-beaked spoonbill

sifts shimmering shore shallows for small fish.

Nearby a darting dragonfly

beats four frail wings: a flash of iridescence.

The stately pelican would sail

so sedately through the calmness

were I not watching. Had I not watched

I would not give it praise in words.


NIGHT

Night is the dark leaves whispering;

Night is the moon-boat sailing west;

Night is the song that crickets sing

When butterflies have gone to rest.

Night is the silent road that runs

Through darkness for the gleaming cars.

Night is the light of many suns

So far away they are just stars.

Night is the dark waves on the shore.

Night is the sleep that brings dawn's gleam.

Night is the moonlight on the door.

Night is the riddle of the dream.

Night is the healer of day's strife,

A light that day's eyes cannot see.

The slumber that renews all life;

The soundless, star-sung symphony.


RAINDROPS

We are falling from the sky

To the solid earth below.

From the grey clouds rolling by

To the heavy ground we go.

Falling, falling down go we

On the roof, and on the tree;

Over everything you see-

Pitter, patter; pitter, patter;

What's the matter? What's the matter?

On the snail that creeps along,

On the puddle, brown and wide,

Falling on it all, our song

Drums on everything outside.

Falling, falling we go down

On the hills, and on the town;

On the river, long and brown-



Leaving all the grass blades dripping,

Making rings upon the lake,


Through the air we're streaking, slipping

Down the windows like a snake.

Falling, falling down we go,

Flying where the breezes blow,

Trickling down tree-trunks we flow-



If we never, never come,

All the plants curl up and die,

Finally the streams won't run,

All the land goes brown and dry.

Falling, falling down go we

On the roof, and on the tree;

Over everything you see-




THE MAGICIAN’S HELPER

A young man at the market place

Who wanted work was taken in

By one who had a wrinkled face

And a long, white beard upon his chin.

Deep in a wood, high in a tower,

The young man worked on, hour by hour-

He dusted books, he polished jars,

And folded up the maps of stars.

For magic was his master’s trade-

The many strange spells that he made

Were written in a great, big book.

The young man longed to take a look.

His master took a trip one day.

“Be sure,” he said, “ while I’m away

To fill the big pot to the brim.”

That was the task he left to him.

“ O dear,” the young man thought, “It’s far

Down all these steps to reach the lake!

And all I have is one small jar


And nothing else that I can take!”

“ I think”, he thought, “ I’ll take this book

Of spells and have a little look.

Now what could help? Now let me see-

This looks like one that’s made for me!”

“ Let’s see- a spell to give a hand;

That is exactly what I’d planned,

Now what I need is one old broom,

And yes, there is one in this room! “

“ Shim, shim shumber, without slumber,

Frim, frim frumber, without number!

Broom take legs and arms, I say,

And obey my will today!”

All at once the young man’s eyes

Opened wide with vast surprise -

For the broom stood up on legs

And grew arms like wooden pegs!

“ Go fetch the water to this spot

And pour it out to fill this pot.

So take this jar at once and make

Your way down to the wide, deep lake.”


At once it went and very soon

It trundled back into the room;

And seven times it came to him

And filled the pot up to the brim.

“ All right, all right, now you can stop.

Thank you, for filling up the pot.

Stop! Stop! Its quite enough today!”

But the broom continued on its way.

Oh yes, the broom just kept ongoing,

And soon the pot was overflowing.

The water poured out on the floor

And even reached right to the door.

The young man searched through every page

To find the spell to stop this stage;

But not one sentence could he find

To make the broom change its set mind.

“ I know,” he thought, “ I’ll grab a saw

And cut the wretched thing in two.

Yes, that should stop it, that’s for sure.

There’s nothing else that I can do.”

So when the broom returned once more

The young man hid behind the door.


And, as the broom came in, he sprang

And knocked it down with one loud bang!

He held it down with all his might,

When what should happen before his sight!

It changed, when it was on the floor,

Back to a normal broom once more.

He grabbed the saw without delay,

And sawed and sawed and sawed away.

“ Why stop at two? I’ll make it sure,

I’ll saw it into forty-four!”

Soon forty-four small bits of broom

Were lying scattered around the room.

“ At last I’ve stopped it in its tracks,

Now I can clean up and relax.”

But what was this? To his surprise

Each bit was growing before his eyes!

And soon each was a proper broom,

Now forty-four were in the room.

Yet worse than this, much worse by far,

Each one sprang up, each had a jar,

And each was walking through the door

Just as the first one had before!


Soon forty-four were coming back

And pouring water everywhere-

On every mat, on every stack

Of books, on every single chair!

“ O Heavens, what shall I do now?

They’ll drown the room; they’ll drown the tower!

What’s this? My master’s back. O please,

Help me to stop this broom disease!”

The old man frowned and raised his staff

And swiftly cut the air in half

And uttered a spell whose mighty power

Shook every stone within the tower!

The brooms were suddenly no more,

The water flowed back to the lake,

And everything was as before

The youth had made his great mistake.

“ I hope this mess did you some good,

Young man,” his master said, “ You should

Not have begun until you knew

How to control what it would do!”


WHAT TREE AM I?

One

There is a riddle in my name,

And yet the answer is quite plain.

A woodless tree I stand,

And yet your name is in my hand.

Two

I am a tree whose leaves are known

To branch in time and not in space.

Yet everyone can try to trace

The only on of me they own.

Three

To hear my name would make you think

I grew upon the ocean's brink.

But if you spelt it, you would find

It wasn't what you had in mind.


Four

I am a bushy tree

And from the bush I come.

At times I grow a galaxy

Of yellow stars that hum.


SEAHORSES

Inside the large aquarium,

Within a tank, behind the glass,

Seahorses swim.

So gently now they pass,

Long-nosed, horse-headed and so frail,

With a spiral for a tail.

Like floating chess knights they drift on,

With whirring, tiny fins upon

Their backs and heads- so upright here.

How strange it seems that these should be…

These tiny, horse-like fish, so delicate and clear,

Soft-grazing on the pastures of the sea.


METEOR

See!

Across the constant constellations' night

there spears another gleaming light.

Fleeting, fleeing, a meteor spark

streaks across the vast sky-dark.

There!

A sudden-shining line

is etched upon the lightless air.

Across long night's slow-passing pace,

the stillness of the star-set signs,

for but a moment of all time,

there flames its flashing trace.

And then it vanishes, forever gone,

a single grace note in night's song,

and leaves no mark on stellar space.

So swiftly passes

the sudden show,

the thin sky-flame,

you would not guess

it had been so,

had you not happened


just then to see

it had been there-

had you not happened

just then to be

aware.


FOUR WINTER HAIKU

ONE

Bare willow branches:

Languid lines on dusk-mauve sky.

Above- faint, far star.

TWO

Smooth, white wings moving

Smoothly through smooth winter blue:

Cattle egret flight.

THREE

On lake sands, winter’s

Cold dragon of the south wind

Has left his long tracks.

FOUR

Dark needles draped in

Cold mauve dusk. Above, bright bow.

She-oaks and the moon.


GLOW-WORMS

In the darkness, in the damp,

shallow cave beneath the tall

cliffs that cause the waterfall,

each a tiny, blue-green lamp

on the damp, black basalt wall,

crowding glow-worms softly gleam

by the moon-touched pool and stream.

Each a star they shine in small

constellations, here alone

on their sky of night-black stone.

Though I know that there are reasons,

causes for their strange display

and that wonder, like their shining,

fades away in plain, bright day,

yet, within this silent darkness,

gazing without explanation,

how I feel the secret, glowing,

soft enchantment of creation.


A RHYME OF RIDDLES

one

The one before me has a fiery face,

The one that follows a frosty smile.

As one in four, I take my place

Between these opposites a while.

two

My spears will blaze; my gray troops come;

My voice be like a booming drum.

And yet when battle is unfurled,

My bullets are a blessing to the world.

three

When heaven weeps I shall be found

Lying still upon the ground.

When it smiles then I'll be gone

Up to the sky where I came from.

four

If you stand here, no matter how you try


There's only one direction you can go.

My sister spot beneath the sky

Is just the same, but opposite, you know.

five

I sound as if I saw a dance,

But you won't see me at a glance.

In pieces I shall play my role,

By asking you to make me whole.


WIND AND STONE

The wind that blows against the cliff

Is only breath, so weak yet swift,

But carrying some grains of grit

Like tiny hammers to fling at it.

Thus bit by bit, it wears away

The silent, stony face of grey.

The wind is weak, the stone is tough...

But being tough is not enough.

Forever comes the wind to play,

And bit by bit wears it away.

The stone is full, the wind is thin-

But in the end, the wind will win.


SPELL OF LIFE

The seed lies in the silent dark.

Sun, soil and water light life's spark.

And from the seed there lifts a shoot.

The shoot develops stem and root.

The stem unfolds its first, small leaves.

They drink the light, they breathe the breeze.

Roots cling to earth, absorb the rain;

Support the stem's unfolding frame.

The leaves rise tall, spread on the air;

And finally begin buds there.

And from the buds out-spirals flowers

With scent and hue: bee-pleasing powers.

And as the chance and season suit,

The fertile flowers become the fruit.

The fruit grows ripe and falls to earth…

But in the fruit seeds come to birth.


The fruit is final of life's deeds-

But in earth's silence lie the seeds.

FIREFLY


See the spark

In the dark –

Firefly

Floating by.

Near and far,

Like a star-

Green-gold gleam,

Blinking beam.

When day’s done,

When earth’s rim

Hides the sun,

When the spring

Dusk grows dim,

Shimmering,

Glimmering,

Floating high,

Floating low,

To and fro,

See the spark

In the dark-

Firefly

Floating by.

Trace the gleam-


Follow, follow

To the hollow

Where the stream

Meets the creek.

Go and seek.

Where the bushes

And the rushes

Darken now

In night’s power,

With surprise

You can see

Fireflies

Suddenly

Everywhere

In dark air-

Flitting, winking,

Sparkling, blinking,

Starry streams,

Magic gleams;

In your eyes,

Flashing there

Everywhere…

Fireflies!

Fireflies!


SLOWLY, SO SLOWLY THE SNAIL

Slowly, so slowly the silent snail

Slides along past glistening trees,

Leaving behind it a silvery trail,

Looking for fresh, juicy leaves.

On soft, long stalks, two tiny eyes

Wave at the wet grass where rain fell;

Prepared, alert, at first surprise,

To curl into its round, brown shell.

Silently sliding on it slimy

Body without bones;

Silently sliding with its spiralled,

Thin shell for its home;

So it roams; so slow, so slow-

And yet, and yet though, it will go

More quickly than

Green leaves can grow.


THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUN

One autumn day, up in the sky,

The Wind called to the far-off Sun.

He boasted to the Light on High,

“I really am the strongest one!”

“I'm mightier than you, warm Sun,”

The cold South Wind announced with pride.

“Forever restlessly I run

Throughout the vast sky, blue and wide.”

“But are you sure,” the Sun replied,

“You are as powerful as you say?”

“Oh yes, I'm sure,” the proud Wind cried.

“I rule the air both night and day.”

“I whirl in here from far away.

I rustle all the forest leaves.

I carry all the clouds and play

My song through all the swaying trees.”

“Your power is wild, but mine can please,”

The Sun said, “ What's your power worth?

For when it's used, you rage and freeze-

But mine brings light and warmth to earth.”


“Each dawn I bring the day to birth;

My rays call forth each golden flower,

And all the creatures of the earth

Rejoice that I employ my power.”

“So let's find out, this very hour,

Which one of us is stronger. See-

A Traveller is trudging now

Along the road, quite wearily.”

“So let us see if you can be

So mighty that you force this man

To take his cloak off willingly.

Come, let us find out if you can!”

“Of course,” the Wind said and began

At once to blow. The tops of trees

Swayed softly and the white clouds ran

Through blue sky in the growing breeze.

But the Traveller just said,” I'm pleased

I've got my cloak to wrap around

And shield me from this chilly breeze

Which sprang up with its whistling sound.”

At this, the Wind's rage knew no bounds,


It tore down from the stormy sky.

The dead leaves leapt up from the ground

And tall trees groaned as he flew by.

“I'll tear this cloak from you with my

Wild-tearing power,” the great Wind cried,

“I'll blow and rage and storm till I

Have ripped it free! I'll whip your hide!”

The Traveller, however, tied

His cloak around himself and smiled:

“I'm really glad I did decide

To bring my cloak. This wind's so wild!”

At last the Wind once more was mild.

“Oh dear, I'm all blown out,” he sighed.

“ My brother Wind,” the warm Sun smiled,

“I think it's time now that I tried.”

And so the Sun began to glide

Out from the clouds' concealing greys,

To glow once more on all outside

And spread his shining, warming rays.

All coldness fled before his gaze,

And butterflies began to dance,

And little lizards slipped out to laze


On sunny stones in his warming glance.

The Traveller relaxed his stance.

He thought, “I'm glad there's no more storm.

I must slip back this cloak at once;

In fact, it's getting rather warm.”

The Sun continued to transform

The world with its warm harmony;

Wild bees went buzzing, in a swarm,

To build a hive in a hollow tree.

The Sun kept shining happily,

And spreading warm and warmer rays,

Till autumn seemed a memory

In the drowsy heat of summer days;

Till all was shimmering in a haze

Of dazzling heat, bright in the power

Of the fierce Sun's steady, fiery gaze.

The Traveller wiped sweat beads from his brow.

“How strange, it's grown so hot somehow,”

The Traveller said. “ I think it's best

If I take off my cloak right now

And seek some shady tree's cool rest.”


“Come, brother Wind, see how it's best

To use persuasion's gentle power,”

The Sun called. “I have passed the test,

For he's removed his cloak right now.”

And so the Sun, with warm persuasion,

Succeeded better on this occasion,

While the Wind, with all his furious course,

Completely failed by using force.


WINTER RAIN ON TOWN AND LAND

Now in the town

this winter raining means

that windscreen wipers on the cars

whirp up and down.

Cloud is a grey and rumpled blanket

thrown over all the sky.

And tires hiss on wet, black roads.

Like walking mushrooms, roused by rain,

the passers-by

sprout black and blue and brown umbrellas.

These showers

in winter mean

that water trickles down

the concrete drains

and gutters gurgle little streams.

And all the day

is cold and grey.

Now on the land

this winter raining means


the light-brown grass upon the hills

will grow a little green.

Brown creeks will flow;

brown rivers grow.

And on the surface of the dam

the raindrops splattering

make rippling rings

and faintest tinkling sounds

as they come down.

The dry dirt track

is turning darker, telling

of blessing from above.

And everywhere you smell the smell

of rain on earth and leaves.

This rain in winter means

good water for the young gum trees

with strong, red shoots for spring.

And even magpies seem

a little pleased

to wash their feathers clean.


WHO AM I?

ONE

I shoot no arrows from my bow

Though high I hold each string.

I have no breath and yet you know

A thousand, thousand songs I sing.

TWO

In everything you read and write

I put the end in place.

I have no sound and yet your sight

Will see my tiny face.

THREE

I shed my skin when I arise

From dark earth where I’ve waited long

To see the sun through my five eyes,

And drum my summer song.

FOUR

A towering giant, I wake at night:

My turning, beaming eye is bright

And sends a message, far from me,


To help those all at sea to see.

FIVE

Although I seem a blue-white star,

My light is not my own; though far

I wander in nights’ dark, deep sky

And slowly shift as time goes by.

Shining without glittering,

I’m famous for my hidden ring.

SIX

I am in letters three -

If you’ve a goal, then you have me.

SEVEN

No person’s ever born with these,

But two have those with beak and claw

Who love the hearing of the breeze.

Locust and beetle both have more.


MOTH UPON THE WINDOW PANE

From the far darkness of the night

A moth has flitted towards the light

To rest upon the window glass-

A barrier it cannot pass.

Now there it rests with wings spread wide,

Lit by the light rayed from inside

That makes a blur of white that lies

Upon its many-sided eyes.

The wings are pale and frail and seem

Like patterns woven from a dream,

With colours from ghost gums that glow

Where moonlit mists swirl to and fro.

Then suddenly it takes to flight

And disappears into the night

To break the spell where I was seeing

Winged wonder of a living being.


SUMMER SINGERS

We hum, we drum,

High in each gum

That murmurs in

The summer breeze.

Green as the summer leaves,

All in a hidden throng,

We strum

And sing the summer’s song.

With wings like elves

We hide ourselves

From butcher bird and crow.

Through sunset's dream,

Through midday's glow,

Through drowsy air

Or blazing heat

We drum our beat:

Cicada! Cicada!

We hum, we drum,

We sing to mate,

We are the summer's band

Here in the great

South Land!


FLYING A KITE

First there is blue

with wind rushing through:

vastness and air,

room everywhere.

Then there's the kite

lifting to height,

catching on wind;

white ball of string

quickly unravelling.

Further from you,

climbing and travelling

into the blue,

but balanced by holding tight;

into the height

rises the kite.

You feel the wind,

the balancing:

the loop and fall,

the rise, the stilling pull.


You see the field of blue

and feel the distant diamond,

the blatant red on wind,

as linked to you. . .

you feel the playfulness

of balancing the stress;

a friend of wind and air and sky,

and see the rustle of the tail,

rippling-free on high.

But best of all you feel you sail

upon the blue,

upon the wind,

upon the boundlessness and blend

awareness with the vastness over you. . .

the endless horizon and world without end.


FOUR SPRING HAIKU

ONE

Boronia scrub.

Day-green bushes blossom: crowds

Of small, light-mauve stars.

TWO

Spring dusk. Suddenly

There are floating, flashing stars.

Greengold. Fireflies.

THREE

Weeeping bottle brush;

Small leaves burst lemon yellow-

Festival for bees.

FOUR

Spring wind sways dune grass.

Two sea eagles ride low, then

Rise to catch the sun.


SURFERS

Even on these winter waves,

wrapped in black against

the water's cold,

the whips of wind,

they come to ride the sea.

The wave has power; the surfer

awareness of the body's stance:

a shifting to balance, a staying stable,

to flow with the flowing,

to go with the going.


THE BLACK KNIGHT

Behold! Behold the bold, black knight!

There’s something solid in his stance.

He’s looking ready to advance-

His sword unsheathed and to the right,

His shield held high on his left side.

And there is nowhere here to hide!

He seems a warrior from a tale

Of ancient wars and now I mark

His body bears a coat of mail.

His bearded face is fierce and dark-

His helmet firm upon his head.

His enemies must shake with dread!

Yet I am not afraid. I know

That I can fell him with one blow.

Indeed my breath, should I attack,

Can knock him flat upon his back.

Am I a dragon that I can

Ignore the threat from such a man?

No, that’s not why he’s bound to fall.

He’s but two centimetres tall

And made of plastic- that is all.


THE EXPLORER

The eagle nests in mountain trees

And glides upon the wide, bright air;

The dolphin frolics through the seas;

But human beings go everywhere.

To the darkest ocean deeps,

To the highest mountain peaks,

Flying far above grey cloud,

Or where the emperor penguins crowd

Upon the ice in winter’s coldest night,

Where deserts burn with blazing light,

Through the deepest cave’s dark air;

People will go everywhere,

Beyond the earth and into space

And even on the moon’s white face.

The tiger roams the jungles night,

The bear lies in his winter lair,

The swift flies far beyond our sight,

But human beings go everywhere.


WITHIN

Within a room a man is seen

Who types on his computer screen.

My fingers press the keys and so

Create these words in rhythmic flow.

And I sit at this desk alone

Within this room within my home.

And my small house is by a street

Where children, dogs, and parents meet.

The street is near the highway where

The cars rush on from here to there-

Where all the grey skyscrapers stand

Along the coast of this wide land.

And this great land is bound by ocean

Where waves roll on in endless motion.

And all the seas and lands are on

One round, blue world lit by the sun-

A shining star that is our place


Within the crowds of stars in space…

Within the billion stars that flee

Through vast reaches of the galaxy.


THE KING WHO BELIEVED EVERYTHING

Now once there was a foolish king

Who would believe most anything.

He searched for any who could weave

A tale that he would not believe.

With castle, gold and lands for lure,

So many tried to find a cure.

So many liars tried and lost

And in deep dungeon paid the cost.

A farmlad came to take his try.

“One day I sowed a field of rye,

Before I'd finished my first seed

Had sprung up higher than all the trees.

“Soon it was higher than any tower.

I left it for a few days now,

Until it rose right out of view.”

“Yes,” said the king, “that sounds quite true.”

“And so I thought that I might try

To climb up through the sunny sky

Until I came to heaven's sphere;

The climb took me a weary year.”


“In heaven angels flew, most fair,

Through perfumed, light-filled, singing air;

And beauty shone from everything.”

“Yes, I believe you,” said the king.

“I saw my mother and father both

A-riding in a silver coach;

In golden robes they took their ease.”

“Yes,” said the king, “that I'll believe.”

“Then I went onward, wondering,

And then I saw your parents, king,

All dressed in rags, with filth and slime,

And caring for a herd of swine!”

“You lie, “ the king roared out this time,

“My parents can't be handling swine!

Deceiving rogue, I'll have your head!”

“I'll have your prize,” the farmlad said.


THE SONG OF THE WIND

Now I am the wind with my body of air,

Now I am the wind and I rush everywhere.

Yes, I am the wind and I roll through the sky,

All the leaves shake and tremble as I roll on by.

When I come from the ocean I bring with me rain,

Then I come from the desert with dryness again.

And I drive the white clouds through the sky as I fly,

And I flap the wet clouds that were hung out to dry,

And twirl all the fallen, dry leaves with my swirling,

And I raise the dry dust with my hurrying whirling.

And I ripple long grasses in waves as I pass,

And I bend all the trees with my furious blast.

And when I am friendly the birds ride on me,

As they glide through the blue sky so light and so free;

But when I am angry, I rage and I roar

And I break off the branches and rattle the door.

Now I am the wind and I blow and I blow

Wherever I go, yes, wherever I go.


THIS LUNAR NIGHT

This lunar night

the houses of the street are quiet;

familiar shapes are cast in white.

Cats prowl their gardened territories,

the tawny frogmouth and the owl

keep watch on silence, possums climb

through silver clusters of thin leaves,

a flying fox flits over fields of stars,

a far dog barks, a bandicoot

scrabbles in the ghostly earth,

and pale moths mass on the window pane-

for half this world’s inhabitants

awake to light

this lunar night.


TO A REDDENING LEAF

When fading from green living,

why do you redden

to a deep, rich red

before you brown back

to shapeless earth?

Is it the afterglow,

mere fading-away,

or the last shining

of living fire

no longer hidden by

the plant's green cover?


THE TOWN MOUSE AND THE COUNTRY MOUSE

A country mouse once asked a friend-

A city mouse- to come and stay.

The city mouse came at week’s end

To visit for a night and day.

But when their dinner time was due

The country mouse could but prepare

Some barley corn for them to chew,

With grass seeds for their simple fare.

“You live more like an ant than mouse,”

His city friend said with a smile.

“Come visit me in my town house

And stay with me a little while.”

The two small mice set off at dawn

Before the sun rose in the sky,

And they arrived within the town

Before the morning had gone by.

They slipped beneath the oaken door

Of one important-looking house,

And out onto the kitchen floor


The town mouse led the country mouse.

And there upon the shelves they spied

So many types of food: plump peas,

And bacon waiting to be fried,

And bulging beans and tasty cheese;

Ripe apples and rich honeycombs,

Full jars of dates and brown-baked bread.

“ I’ve never known such food at home! “

The country mouse in wonder said.

But as the mice were looking there,

They heard loud footsteps coming near.

They fled and hid behind a chair

And stood there shivering in fear.

The mice crept out when all was quiet.

But straightaway they heard a sound.

The country mouse squeaked out in fright,

“ Who’s that who’s creeping all around?”

The town mouse cried, “ The cat! The cat!

Quick! To the hole in that wall there! ”

They dashed into the hole and sat

Once more both shivering with fear.


When all was quiet the country mouse

Turned to the town mouse and he said,

“There’s lots of food in your town house,

But there is also fear and dread!”

“ So you may eat your fancy fill.

But, for myself, I’d rather find

My simple food, without the thrill,

And eat it with true peace of mind! “


WHAT AM I ?

ONE

At times I seem a ship on high;

At times I seem a sort of face.

I’m ever-changing as I trace

My monthly pathway through the sky.

TWO

White hand of winter on the lawn,

I’m found there in the chilly dawn.

But as the sun climbs in the sky

I vanish like an icy sigh.

THREE

My shelter glides along with me

As I seek salad for my tea.

FOUR

A lash of light, not from the sun,

A fiery slash, a flaming tongue

That often speaks with deep, deep sound…

A danger if I get to ground.


FIVE

A veil that no hand weaves am I ,

Descending from the heights of sky.

I drift in wisps, but warming sun

Will see me lifted and undone.

SIX

I am found upon a rose

And upon a clown’s round nose.

At times the setting sun has me,

And ripe, round apples on the tree.


UNICORN

In the moonglow, bright and white,

On the midnight's deep,

In the beams of dreaming light,

Over the city asleep,

On the clouds' white glaze,

Past the stars, on night's dark ways,

Something is softly stamping its feet.

Is it only the far thunder's beat?

Is it only a drifting, bright cloud

On the edge of the rise of the storm?

Or is it a prancing and proud,

Moonborn unicorn?

Its voice is the far ocean's swell,

It rides on the moon's silent beams;

Its horn is a white, spiralled shell,

Its path is the pathway of dreams.

On the edge of the rise of the storm,

Over the city asleep,

Is it a drift of bright cloud?


Or is it a prancing and proud,

Moonborn unicorn,

Softly, softly stamping its feet?


MY BINOCULARS

Through my binoculars I see

Five black birds on a far, dead tree.

They ruffle feathers there and preen

Against the hazy, hill-green scene.

Through my binoculars I spy

A helicopter whirring by

And passing faint clouds drifting high

Upon the brilliant blue of sky.

Through my binoculars I view

A grey goanna rustling through

A sunlit patch of fallen leaves

To vanish under forest trees.

Through my binoculars I note

A wallaby with its brown coat.

She feeds upon the grass she loves,

Bent-down, with neat, black paws like gloves.

Once day has sunk in burning red

And night spreads darkness overhead,

With my binoculars I see


The hazy band of galaxy.

Like Galileo long ago

I see our galaxy’s white glow

Turn into stars so far away

That form the shining Milky Way.

Like gleaming sands upon the night,

So many now are in my sight.

I wonder as I think each one

That shines there is a distant sun.

Through my binoculars I see

All of the world’s great majesty.

From near to far, from earth to sky,

Up to the distant stars on high.

With my binoculars I find

Awakened wonder in my mind

And heart for all that is unfurled

Within the wonders of the world.


LIZARDS

Where afternoon-warm sunlight weaves

Small lizards creep from brown, dry leaves

And rest- so still and shining-bright,

Their scales flash specks of rainbow light.

In quietness they soak up the heat

In this small world beneath my feet.

They breathe- and their sides shrink and swell

As if asleep or in a spell…

Yet they’re alert to shadow fall.

Are they like those, those long gone all,

Those great, earth-shaking dinosaurs

That once roamed far-past plains and shores?

They’ve been turned small by time, some say.

But what of sizes anyway?

In their small garden world they’re great

Bug-hunters of the reptile state.

For what do they know of my size?

I am not scaled to tiny eyes…

As I am but a little one

On earth beneath vast sky and sun?


Answers to Riddles


one

A waterfall

two

A nail

three

A lie

four

A windmill

WHAT'S MY NAME?

one

A shadow

two

The sound “L”


three

Silence

four

Footprints

RIDDLES

one

1. Life

two

Time

three

Eye

four

Sunset

five

A wave

six

Light


seven

Fire

WHAT TREE AM I?

one

A Palm Tree

two

Family Tree

three

Beech Tree

four

Wattle Tree

A RHYME OF RIDDLES

one

Autumn

two


A Storm

three

A Puddle

four

The North or South Pole

five

A Jigsaw

WHO AM I?

one

A Violin

two

A Full Stop

three

A Cicada

four

A Lighthouse

five


Saturn

six

Aim

seven

Wings

WHAT AM I?

one

The Moon

two

Frost

Three

A Snail

Four

Lightning

Five

Mist

Six


Red

The midas bird

Spiritual

Transcript of The midas bird