Author: colleen

The Launch of Desert Patterns by Colleen Keating

colleen General, Poetry , , , , , , , ,

A launch or not a launch

The beautiful collection of poetry Desert Patterns  is launched at a non-launch in a Desert Garden.

At the Olive Pink Botanic Garden in Alice Springs, Central Australia, with an idea of ‘no clustering groups’  which is now coined ‘social distancing’ we launched Desert Patterns in a desert garden to wallabies, a wide variety of interested birds,  skinks, the wonderful vegetation of this arid garden and to one very curious Euro ( a mountain wallaby who hopped down from Annie Meyers Hill to join the frey.

 

as I read  ‘quiet stillness settles into our very soul’

and continued:

‘maybe it’s the way the light falls

throws its arms around the old familiar  cliffs

brings them alive  beckons come

come’

 

desert patterns

the landscape dreams
of caterpillars and rainbow serpents
composed
sculptured
moulded for aeons
wind water sand
carved chiseled hefted
hewn
from rock and clay
heave of ochre red
weave curve wave

desert patterns 
draw us in                                                                

every escarpment every contour
named and known
as a mother knows its children
garments of beauty
that dress our earth
like whims of scarves 

desert patterns
draw us in 

the night sky dreams
of journeys emus echidnas
black spaces
compose
shimmer
imagination
reflects ancient stories

desert patterns
draw us in 

 

 

 desert garden  18/03/2020 ( written the day of the launch . Not in the poetry book)

already some have gathered under the umbrellas
conversations tête-à-tête over coffee
hushed murmurs like one makes in a cathedral
standing in the presence of awe-inspiring domes
and zig-zag shimmer
of coloured floors of lead-light reflection

here dreamy gold light catches the tips of ghost gums –
Namatjira’s signature –that breaks the silence from long ago
how arrogant in our colonising we had become
from rocky boulders rustic-red breaks in the hills
flames out in mica shine
wallabies laze in shady groves of Mulga.

magpies sing from spindly river gums
and one wallaby sits in red sand nearby
no doubt waiting for left over fare.

all morning the magpies watch me in the garden
their bodies wiry sleek and mottled
a good reminder of yin and yang
the balance that we always seek

I write in my journal sip my coffee
nibble on toasted fruit loaf with tiny strips of cherry
spread with whipped cinnamon butter.
Around us spinifex pigeons enjoy the company

I am startled by beauty wherever i look
and I wonder how proud Olive Pink would be
to see us all enjoying the peace of her long ago vision

 

Mother and joey                                                                 sun set from Anzac Hill in Alice

Thanks to all our supporters, . Thanks to Ginninderra Press and to the magic of Inland Australia.

Viriditas and Hildegard

colleen Hildegard of Bingen , , ,

 

Thanks to Healthy Hildegard for the photo and the idea to feature Viriditas.

 

Viriditas

After the rains
Hildegard tends the garden
knee deep
in wet grass,
up to her elbows in soil,
worms, snails 
and ruff of leaf compost.

Marvels at the ramble 
of a young squash vine,
a stray seed gone free.

Lingers in the fragrance
of chives and basil,
coriander, lavender and mint,
and the smell of parsley.

Savours their bouquet.
Being jubilant
with the flirt of white moths,
and the canticle of bird song
from an oak branch above.

Dwells on her knees
as if in prayer.

Hildegard stands
her hands on her lower back
stretches and arches
skywards.Wisping clouds
ruffle. Light whispers,

I am the breeze that nurtures all things green.
I encourage blossoms to flourish with ripening fruits
I am the rain coming from the dew
that causes the grasses to laugh
with the joy of life. 

Fearful of her own mystery
she clams shut this Light
into the tight knot of her gut.

*Viriditas means “greenness” – vitality, lushness, verdure, fecundity, growth.   It has its earliest connection to Hildegard von Bingen. 

It seems a perfect expression of the living green captured by the soul as the light dances over grass and leaf life.  

With the term Viriditas, Hildegard of Bingen meant to describe a fundamental force in nature and the cosmos that binds people with animals, minerals, and plants.

Viriditas, the power of nature

A greening power, as Hildegard described it, exists in all things and is the basis for all healing in people and of the earth.

This greening powere exists as a symbol of prosperity and vitality, with plants blooming, growing, germinating and bearing fruit.

We lose our greening power through apathy, monotony and stress in everyday life.

We lose our greening power when 

However, we quickly restore and preserve it through prolonged time and movement in nature.

Spring explodes
like a paint box come to life
spilling across
the browned winter-wearylandscape.

In Australia we wait for regeneration after the unprecedented fires we have experienced . We observe the tiny moments of  viriditas return.

I give thanks to all the wonderful people who are being proactive to save species that are threatened. eg the rare life of the green Corroboree Frog from the Snowy Mountains. My daughters who send hopeful photos of new life and promise me the trees will recover.

New life  bursting into our lives.

Desert Patterns by Colleen Keating

colleen Poetry, Poetry Collection now available , ,

When we listen, this land sings to us, holds us, nurtures us. This land is the common ground that we share. This small blue planet is the common world of our existence. Desert Patterns is a collection of poetry that touches the membrane between two worlds with the breath of wildness and our inland journeys. In its striking imagery, we have a revelation of the significance of the land and of the burden of our Australian history.
‘Colleen’s poetic journey invokes the deep spirituality of our landscape. She immerses us in “a multitude of gorgeous images” as we stand in Tunnel Creek remembering Jandamarra, marvel with Monet at Kakadu’s “blazing-blue lilies” and dream with cicadas: “is it a place the gods keep/to seduce the lost like me?” Every step of the way, Desert Patterns will entrance you.’ – Pip Griffin
‘Colleen Keating in her distinctive Australian voice combines sensitivity to place with clear, powerful free verse. Her images are both striking and profound. Again as in her previous collections, her poetry is underpinned by a gentle spirituality from a woman’s perspective. – John Egan
‘Take time to enter the world of this poetic landscape. Colleen Keating invites us to listen – with all our senses.’ – Margaret Hede
Following on the publication of her award-winning poetry collection Fire on Water in 2017, Colleen Keating, a Sydney poet, has continued to search for a sense of place in country – a land that is timeless and always changing. Much country has been handed back to its traditional owners, while mining companies and pastoralists continue to maintain their position. Aboriginal art has flourished and more people are searching for a place to call home. Colleen has also had published by Ginninderra Press  A Call to Listen and a highly acclaimed verse novel, Hildegard of Bingen: A poetic journey. She has also co-authored Landscapes of the Heart (Picaro Poets) with John Egan.
978 1 76041 844 1, 94pp

Versions

Paperback

9781760418441
$22.50

Symphony Central Coast: One Land, Many Stories

colleen General , , , , ,

 

What a moving, exciting afternoon concert  we experienced on Sunday 23rd February 2020.

Originally it was to be held in The Entrance Park and we had planned to walk there but the flood of Tuggerah Lake has caused damage in the park hence it was changed to Kibble Park in Gosford.  Kibble Park is a very pleasing park but we needed to drive and hesitated about traffic and parking. By hook or by crook I wanted to go to this concert. So we went. 

The concert called One Land, Many Stories brought together performers and composers to showcase quality Australian music – from quiet reflections on our personal space in a very old country to an exuberant celebration of shared values.

There were stories of creation, ritual and first meetings

and music that evokes the Dreamtime spirit of Australia, 

the grandeur of the colonial stock run 

and the stars above us all. 

Performers from Central Coast Grammar School and Central Coast Youth Orchestra, 

plus special guest artists joined the Central Coast Symphony Orchestra. There was a world premiere of a piece by Kevin Hunt.  

It began with with a smoking ceremony. Green eucalypts leaves smoked and gave off a wonderful healing aroma . Many bathed in the smoke but there was no need to file past as we felt the cleaning power from where we were sitting. 

  

There was a heartfelt welcome to country. The first piece of music was very appropriate for Australia still grieving after the unprecedented Summer bush fire season – Peter Sculthorpe’s Earth Cry together with some insightful poetry about lament for Mother earth.

Next was An Ancient Forest Once Stood Here composed by Sarah Hopkins. Then a very Indigenous piece telling the creation story in music, poetry with clap sticks in unison with the European pealing of bells and the earthy magic of the didgeridoo .

Next was Stars Above us by Stephen Conroy, then the World premiere of Kevin Hunt’s 

Yaggabantana. The  lyrics were sung in one of the Indigenous languages with the British settlers singing  in English as they learn and copy each others language.

After interval we learnt that Spike Milligan was a Central coast boy and he composed A grand  waltz for the Central Coast .  Next Aurora Australis  composed by Martyn Hancock from Tasmania.

Listening to this music one could hear the cracking of the ice and the fiery colours scintillating across the night sky.  It was an exhilarating piece. 

Not my favourite, but i accept we need experimental music. Kinetica by Mark Grandison was experimenting with sound and I could see the young people in the orchestra were really enjoying it.

Then we segued with poetry from Man from Snowy River and  and the music from the movie which blended into Waltzing Matilda and back to the overture of The man from Snowy. We could see those brumby horses go.

Finally We are Australia sang in language and English. Breath-takingingly beautiful. Heartwarming and healing. As Stan Grant says we are making the space for the conversation and we are coming together more and more. 

By the way, the birds in the trees loved the soirée. They made their presence heard .It was a delight to hear them as they have been so silent all summer.

 

The Yellow Rose

colleen Poetry , , ,

 

 

The Yellow Rose 

And the weather turns around

from pyrocumulous horror

our  infernoed land is drowned

in flooding rain

and now a misty morning

for walking once again

after a scorching summer

of ash and smoke hazed air

 

I see the  rosebush has survived                                            

for  the yellow rose nods

smiles as if it recognises me

and murmurs

 

just for a moment

it stops me in my tracks    draws me in

then its smile is in the curled petals

its nods in the zephyr of breeze

and I move into my day singing

my rose has the look of  a flower

that is  looked at*

acknowledged and loved

like the rose in the little Prince

  • TS Eliot

Bearing witness to the fires Summer 2020

colleen Poetry , , , , , , , ,

 

 

bearing witness

reverence is called for  . . .

a mournful dignity  on this beach today

it is far from the war zone

 but each wave carries the remains

flanked with blackened ash

it lays to rest in curves on the sand

not stark stiff birds as sometimes washed up 

blown in by severity of storms 

here is death consumed 

held up evidence 

as flotsam                                                           

and left like wreaths 

curved around a cenotaph

wave after wave 

sometimes  when washed out 

there is respite

for one does not know what to do 

but it comes back on the tide with vengence 

there is no escape  to being the witness                                

till one falls down on the sand to weep

and finds they’re not alone 

as the lament of the waves

comfort with whispered threnodies 

and hazed in smoke 

the weeping eye of the sun waits

 

 

 

Small pockets of new life come up to meet us everywhere.

 It does not help the many who have suffered the loss of loved ones, 

those who have lost their homes and/or businesses. 

It does not help the awful trauma that is with us 

and it doesn’t alleviate the  grief we bear as a nation 

at the loss of our precious flora and fauna. 

It is a sad, sombre and very sobering summer. 

 

 

The new Anthology, Love’s Footprint edited Maree Silver & Leigh Hay

colleen General, Poetry , , , , ,

 

LOVE’S  FOOTPRINT  published by Poetica Christi Press

  Edited by Maree Silver & Leigh Hay

It is exciting to have two poems chosen to be included in the very thoughtful Anthology Love’s Footprint published by Poetica Christi Press. My two poems ‘bells’ and ‘morning glory’  were chosen among 132 poems that make this Anthology an enjoyable read.

It has been a joy to read this anthology by poets whose experiences speak from and into vulnerability, risk, ageing and loss, in ways that are believable and moving. There were many notable poems which surprised and warmed me. You will be consoled and absorbed by the truth-telling  of the poets who have in common the human and divine capacity to love in both action and word. (Marlene Marburg, poet and author Grace a upon Grace)

 

The Blue Nib reviews Hildegard of Bingen by Colleen Keating

colleen General, Hildegard of Bingen, Poetry , ,

https://thebluenib.com/article/hildegard-of-bingen-colleen-keating-reviewed/

‘Hildegard of Bingen’ Colleen Keating – Reviewed

By

Emma Lee

Reviews
Colleen-Keating-Hildegard-of-Bingen

‘Hildegard of Bingen’ Colleen Keating

(Ginninderra Press www.ginninderrapress.com.au

ISBN 9781760417666, 248pp, $Aus 35)

Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1179) was a nun, sold into a convent aged 8, initially under care of Jutta von Sponheim (1091-1136). Hildegard specialised in medical properties of herbs and plants and had religious visions which she dictated to a scribe. She also undertook four journeys to spread word of her faith and was officially canonised in 2012. Colleen Keating’s poems form a book-length sequence telling Hildegard von Bingen’s story, starting in Hildegard’s teenage years. Her confessor, Abbot Kuno, already sees Hildegard as a potential problem, in ‘Confessor’,

‘He questions Hildegard’s sincerity,
annoyed by her fervour.
He knows he is not the confessor for her.
Blessed Jutta is different
he tells himself impatiently,
compliant and so very holy.’

Abbot Kuno’s attitude reminds Hildegard of her mother’s warning in ‘Her Secret’,

‘when a beautiful light spoke to her,
when she knew more than she should
when her mother warned her to remain silent,
for fear it is the devil at work.’

However, Abbot Kuno has to grudgingly accept Hildegard’s growing fame as a healer, ‘Pilgrims’ ends,

‘Abbot Kuno builds
a small oratory for his sisters,
alert to their fame and charisma
and the revenue
they attract to his monastery.’

Hildegard continues to have her visions but, unfortunately, Jutta’s health seriously deteriorates as she pushes herself to starve and walk on frosty ground barefoot under Abbot Kuno’s urging to push her to sainthood. As Hildegard tends Jutta, she notes in ‘The Last Swallows’, ‘Jutta has her mind only

on heaven,/ to be remembered as a saint.’ In the ‘Passing of Jutta’, ‘Jutta mumbles a litany of virgins and martyrs/ Ursula, Barbara, Agatha./ Hildegard cries names/ of strong biblical women/ Deborah, Judith, Miriam, Esther, Ruth.’ The names reflect the women’s characters.

Hildegard feels ‘A Call to Write’,

‘Light blinds her.
She hears the hum and strike of words:
O fragile human, ashes of ashes,
dust of dust,
say and write what you hear.’

Abbot Kuno allows her a scribe, Volmar. A Papal Envoy summons Hildegard. In ‘Divine Revelation’, ‘The bishops sit high on large carved chairs./ Abbot Kuno sits with a severe frown/ behind an oak desk against the wall./ His impatient tap of fingers/ does not deter Hildegard.’ Turn the page and a missive, ‘The papal envoy calls your words inspired./ You are requested to continue.’ Despite the Papal Envoy’s blessing, Abbot Kuno obstructs her from completing her manuscript of visions. Hildegard goes on hunger strike. Volmar writes to Bishop Henry of Mainz who instructs Abbot Kuno to comply. He allows her to journey to Bingen to build a new abbey. ‘The Art of Perseverance’ sees the abbey established, her manuscript now has 150,000 words and 34 illuminations, and Hildegard has chance to take stock and reflect on her discovery of music,

‘a sacred text in love and trust
and the art of perseverance.
Her years are divided by liturgical feasts
her days marked by the hours
time, by the moon and seasons
rhythmic flow of the cycles.
Abbot Kuno’s stubborn
withhold of dowries constrains here.
Yet nothing constraints her spirit.

Oh, how her spirit soars.
The opera must be performed
for our new chapel opening.’

After three missionary journeys, which aren’t detailed in the poems, Hildegard returns to the issue of the withheld dowries, taking it up with Kuno’s successor, the Abbot of Disibodenberg, in ‘The Letter’

‘Not to release our dowries is unjust, selfish, illegal.
I can see you’ve ignited a black fire against Rupertsberg.
Yes, I see this in you. I’m only a poor insignificant woman,
weak and worthless, yet if you listen to me,
you’ll learn something.

Inside your soul, you  must feel embarrassed
when you see yourself for who you ware.
Sometimes you’re an angry, growling unkind bear,
but since you are so weak, you only snarl quietly under your breath.

The italics are a quote from her letter and, despite their tone, the dowries are released. There’s a ‘Last Missionary Journey’ where Hildegard talks to Volmar, ‘I must journey forth in these dark times,/ speak out for our people./ They especially need encouragement.’ Following an incident where buries a beggar in her abbey and refuses to allow the beggar to be exhumed and re-buried outside of consecrated ground, music is banned from her abbey. Hildegard’s reaction is captured in ‘The Final Letter’ to Archbishop Christian of Mainz,

‘So you and all your prelates must use the greatest vigilance
in stopping, by decree, the mouth of any assembly
of people singing to God.
Beware,
lest in your judgement you are ensnared by Satan,
who draws man out of the celestial harmony
and delights of paradise.

By silencing song in our abbeys you cut human fellowship
with the angelic praise of heaven, but graver still
you disrupt the harmony of body and soul.’

Again the italics are direct quotes. With her own life coming to an end, Hildegard notes, ‘A Circle Ends Where it Begins’ and ‘watches herself both hands in the air,/ eyes to the heavens, turn and twirl a dance of light.’

In ‘Hildegard of Bingen’ Colleen Keating has done meticulous research and brought Hildegard to life in a series of poems that follow a chronological narrative arc. The liveliest sections are where Hildegard is quoted and able to speak for herself. Some sections do however tell readers that this incident happened, then another incident happened which gives the section a prosaic, list-like feel. Overall ‘Hildegard of Bingen’ paints a picture of a compassionate, dedicated woman, not afraid to rebel and stand up for just causes when necessary.

https://thebluenib.com/article/hildegard-of-bingen-colleen-keating-reviewed/

 

Seeing the world through childrens’ eyes

colleen General, Grandchildren, Poetry , , , , , ,

 

 

 

Seeing the world through children’s eyes. 

When the tide recedes beyond the horizon
and the underbelly of the sea is exposed
for little adventurers, Edison and Darcy
the rock platform is a necklace of pools
shimmering like emeralds and full of treasure.

Worry of slipping and falling is not their concern
they hop from rock to rock                                                    
clamber about down on their tummies
their shining eyes
reflected in the mirrored sea.

Everything is magical and extraordinary
Come here, quick Grandma 
the crabs are humongous. 
a scuttle of creatures disappear in our shadow
making us wait quietly
pretending we’re not here
as the rocks curl with camouflaged
crustaceans creeping out
and pincers like boxing gloves
point up at us.                                                    

In their eyes there is wonder
as red anemones sway the waves
as the molluscs trail into patterns
as starfish wash up like gift
as a sting ray glides past their toes
as these curious boys
learn to be respectful of the living world

Seeing the world through children’s eyes
makes me happy to be alive
as we steal out to the edge of the sea
and look for whales
as we dig in the sand on the edge of the beach
as we allow gentle laps of waves
to fill our canals and tunnels
and moats to protect our castles
until Darcy sees more fun in jumping
on them as quick as we can  mould the sand
seeing the world through children’s eyes

Colleen

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summer walk: The Poetry of Tuggerah Lake

colleen General , , , , , , , , , ,

The Poetry of Tuggerah Lake

 

 

Our walk begins on the beach,
low tide and the sea gulls
strutting on the edge,
a flotilla of pelicans glide
with the incoming tide.
A cormorant dives over and over
no chance of predicting where he’d surface.

Coffee from the barrister
at The Lake House is worth the anticipation
(no milk at the apartment so we were hanging out.) 

Two fisherman gut their catch at the sink- bench
and pelicans line up for their share of the feed.

Corellas paired up and sing  preening each other
some on the grass, some in the trees
near an awkward looking ibis pretending
to look elegant on a branch
where cormorants play notes
on musical staves

and on the lake
black swans silky as ballerinas
flaunt with their reflections
on the shiny mirrored lake.

Lap wings were out
squawking to claim their territory.
The council has fenced off
the sand dune to protect
nests of the Little Terns
who migrate from China for the summer
and we watch their acrobatics
around the dunes and seaweed.

 

The sandstone rocks glint
with their striations and swivels and colour
showing us more than any history
or geology text book could

Our signature spoonbill
we expect to see, is again there
as we cross the bridge near the lake,
with his caravan of ducks and hangers-on
waiting for him to disturb the mudflat.

The morning lake catches
the clouds, the sky and ever changing light
and on our way back as the tide turns
the sea spray against the rocks
sings alleluia to another day.