Catchment Poetry of Place

I am thrilled to have three of my poems and  two recent tanka included in the latest edition of the Catchment  Poetry of Place Journal.  

Thank you to Rodney Williams for his  dedication to bring this latest edition of Catchment to the world.

Congratulations to all the included poets . It is an honour to be published amongst them

https://www.bawbawartsalliance.org.au/catchment2/

Dear Colleen Keating

Thanks yet again for your support of Catchment – Poetry of Place: it is greatly appreciated.

You will find that Edition 5 has gone live online, through the Baw Baw Arts Alliance website, viewable through Latest Edition, at this link:

https://www.bawbawartsalliance.org.au/catchment2/

Looking forward to receiving further contributions from you in future, we hope that you will enjoy reading our fifth edition,

please feel free to share Catchment with others!

 

Hidden Life

Above me on the Bobbin Head track
a monolith of uplifted sandstone 
looms. All the tones of amber, buff and beige.
A cavernous rock of Michelangelo gravitas. 
Wind-chiselled, sand carved. Even as I watch
grains of quartz scrape and grate.
Shapes are breaking out. 

It took me to Florence 
a corridor of unfinished sculptures
The Prisoners, stone carved by Michelangelo 
on his quest for the marbled sculpture  ‘David.’   
It is said he worked from inside, believing 
the stone knows.

Below the cliffs, the ripple of waves
fold and unfold. Tides underscore. 
Water finds grooves. Wind sandpapers. 
They wear down lines shaping, carving  
into the grain. Craftsmanship on show.
Shapes are breaking out.     

by Colleen Keating    

   

 

 

Litchfield National Park

whistling kites
firebirds of the sky

hang
on up-drafts of air

eyeing prey
in the blackened patchwork of burn off

we wander
through hundreds of termites mounds

their north-south stance
a graveyard of magnetic headstones

tread lightly
this land a remnant of Gondwanaland*
is a library of books still to be written

* Name given to an ancient 
supercontinent. 

by Colleen Keating

 

 

At Matsuyama

silently one after another 
haiku poets  with shoes off
stand at Shiki’s door 
gaze in at an old style room

tatami mats    cushion 
low desk with dry ink well   brush
tattered papers 
Shiki’s writnig corner

in his garden
we tread a stone-paved way
read his haiku carved on stones
and  wait for inspiration.

by Colleen Keating

 

Tanka

Changi
the airport friendly and safe
how different
this word from our history books
of suffering and bloodshed

beach lookout –
a springtime visitor
rolls and flaps about
silver glints on its flippers
keep us fixed in awe

and later he suns on the groin

by Colleen Keating