Poetry

Olive Muriel Pink: her radical & idealistic Life by Colleen Keating

colleen Olive Pink Botanic Garden, Poetry , , , , , ,

PRESS RELEASE:  Olive Muriel Pink: her radical and idealistic life 

Some good news. My new book has arrived. Olive Muriel Pink: her radical & Idealistic life. An Australian women’s story that after you have read it you will want your friends to do the same.  Thank you to Ginninderra Press & the many that have supported me on this long but wonderful journey.

” It is a triumph for reconciliation and will surely enter the
the annals of Australian literature.’
– Emeritus Professor Lyndall Ryan AM FAHA

Colleen Keating brings Olive Muriel Pink’s significant, neglected history
to life with distinctive, beautiful imagery. – Pip Griffin, poet.

Available to buy www.ginninderrapress.com.au

Lockdown walk No. 8: Enjoying the birds by Colleen Keating

colleen Lockdown Walks, Poetry , , ,

 

 

 

Enjoying the birds

I believe all the birds have their individual spirits, their own individul energy their own power.  It  is there for the sharing with us if we are open to it as gift.

I speak to the birds and now I find Michael and I are both talking away to them. . Today I pointed out a kookaburra to a  lady  out walking  and she started chatting  to it. . It made me smile. We are not the only ones talking to the birds.

I even find the willy wag tales chatting back to us . . . .

Take the time to listen . Let then speak to you .

“Speak to the earth and it will  speak to you ”   Elaine Mitchell

We have discovered a track that hugs the lake avoiding  the main pathway which is a jogging track, a bike track  and on the weekends like Pitt Street . It is through a swampoak forest and easy while the days are dry.  With the slightest breeze the She Oaks sing and the whip birds whistle to each other and the constant chirping of the busy wrens  are there and if we stop and concentrate we can catch them darting about . . . the fairy blue wren and the little brown  female  wren.

 

 

Willy-wag tales are often with us. They seem to  leave and catch up again or are they a different families? They feel very familair as if they take up their conversation where they left of a bit earlier.

Then looking out to the lake are the Black Swans returned.  I remember one winter in 2013 the first time I saw  the black swans here on our side of Tuggerah Lake it seemed a very rare event and I  observed for the next few days wrote a poem called  a black swan event which is publihed in A Call to Listen  publishe 2014 by Ginninderra Press.

The White-faced heron .  I go back to visit their places they like  –the rock pools on the rockshelf, and in the small creeks near Tuggerah Lake , and along the littoral shore of the Lake. Love my reflection of the two herons in Saltmarsh Creek up on the restored reserved bird santuary.

   

The busy family of spoonbills wading along in the sea grass  sifting for crustaceans and teal blue crested  ducks like hand maidens waiting for the left overs

and the many shining white elegant  egrets, princesses  of the lake while they stand perusing thier lake world. Here they are in sunset light and morning freshness.  I love the  awkward  disjointed flying  machine when become when they take off

 

 

   

There are the humble doves eating along the ground,  There are lots of magpies but I could write a whole blog about them. The mudlarks are all around.  The rainbow lorikeets feed and play  in the Banksia trees . There are the masked winged plovers and the black -tailed godwit which my Grandson Cammie identified for me but that will come in a special feature  on the saltmarsh Reserse.   There are the sea gulls  and the beloved pelicans.

 

epiphany 

the day was slowing
time came to rest

the still silent lake held the clouds
grey-blue haze enfolded everything

earth and sky were one
calm presided

reachied out as far as the eye’s gaze
everything was suffused in blue

luminous as the watagan hills
a pile on pile of tones

mirrored in the lake
you could feel them all around you

like a generous hug
nothing protruded

trees rocks sand bars and islands
had forgotten themselves in the blue daze

suddenly a harsh flutter
the lake surface split

a huge cormorant flew from inside
struck up into the air

its ragged black wings
it long snake-neck

its awkward shape
like an eruption from the underworld

against the finely woven lake
its strange form fluttered

gleamed in absolute black
lifted off pierced the air

like a plumed arrow its shadow
crinkling the once still lake

by Colleen Keating

 

   

Lockdown walk No. 7 Bedazzled by patterns of nature by Colleen Keating

colleen Lockdown Walks, Poetry , , ,

 

So is the miracle of rock formations  and their beauty from sand and silt and pebbles laid down, forming rock and then sculptured by the sea and wind sometimes violently like the betrayer and sometimes caressing like a lover.
As we walk from The Entrance Beach around past the baths we enjoy the rocky shelf and headland sculptured by the wind and water and tides. It is waved and striated and patinated and honeycombed and is a joy to the eye.

coastal walk

my eyes trace lines
that curve and swirl
track contours and circled altars
waiting their tide reunion
where only soft padded periwinkles
and sharp edged oyster shells venture
landscapes of sculptures composed
by the dreamtime of water wind and sand
a patterned mosaic
dioramas unfolding
like silken threads from a mulberry tree

each line each ripple
a stretch mark wrinkle scar
has its story

with the tide the ocean
rolls and thunders
sometimes her fingers
like talons scratch and claw
yet eternally patient
her hands caress
love and mould
soothe and soften the violent edges
touch the secret caverns
and with each tide seduce a little more

poem Page 46 A Call to Listen

Lockdown walk No. 6: Colours of early spring by Colleen Keating

colleen General, Poetry , , ,

 

Lockdown walk No. 6 Colours of early Spring

a wattle way
harbinger of spring

we take the track
to a chatter of lorikeets

they dangle like monkeys
from golden banksia

spring is coming
steeling through the twigs

silently seeping
through the sap

budding vernal green
once seen it is everywhere

 

lilac waraburra is showy
it vines over the scrub

purple trails up the trees
no wonder it is often called
happy wanderer

white star flowers sometimes
called ‘tread-softly maybe because
of its spiky leaves

and the pink wax flower
just budding open
sprinkled through the bush
fuchsias delicate little trumpets
stand out

bright red comes
with the dusky coral pea
hard to see at first
and then it turned up hiding quietly
in the brambles in the scrub

maybe wild jasmine
and wonga wonga the native climber
gives us our touch of purple in its delicte white trumpets

And the wattles three we found today

Galahs were busy too
one on a branch as decoy
and this gorgeous one
in a hollow of the old  tree

Finally at the lookout Crackneck
we watched an eagle play


on the air currents
and then down the less worn track
back to the car

Lockdown Walk No.5 Full moon beach walk by Colleen Keating

colleen Lockdown Walks, Poetry , ,

 

 

Rising moon beach walk 

the sun was dropping west
we stood on the beach
with wide expanse
Pacific Ocean vista
a luminous space
held us hypnotically
in the darkening eastern sky

 

It was beauty
that peeped over the arch
and slowly like an unfolding flower
it was the moon that rose
out of the sea
caught in a red glow
spreading a warm fiery path
‘stairway to heaven’ they call it
in Broome

 

Michael and I felt so elated
alone on the winter beach
except for one solitary pelican
and the vista just kept giving

the moon bestirred the world
steady  silent  self-assured
swelling our hearts with its light
stronger and stronger
against the dark of night

it was gift
wrapped in light
colour and beauty. No words just us
bursting with joy

this was a moment to reset my world
my days are measured by the moon
its wax and wane my calendar.

Haiku

winter beach
a full strawberry moon
sweetens each rock pool

 

Lockdown Walk No 4 – A track less worn by Colleen Keating

colleen Lockdown Walks, Poetry , , , , , ,

 

A track less worn

in  Wyrrabalong country
where the forest meets the sea
the hidden way winds along the headland
its overgrown track thick with the banksia‘s
and gums a May Gibbs world
of scrawly characters
as old man banksia stares down
to terrify snugglepot and cuddlepie

in this xerlerphyll remnant of forest
grass trees with their thick
green grug-like head of hair
act guard of honour
sway around us as we file
singularly through this other worldly place.

wattles and a few winter wildflowers
catch our attention
eucalypts  spotted gums  scribbles
river red gums and underfoot
leaf litter absorbs our steps
as if we are not there

and the ocean
with its shots of blue
like projected slides
each a new view through the trees
calls – breathe me  . . .my healing air is yours

its glide  roll  crash then gentle lap
a breathed rhythm of in and out
the space between
a silent tension between life and death

and twice we clamber out
to a headland lookout
and watch the waves perform

the only other sound
wrens butcher birds
distant magpies and
the erratic scratch
of brush turkeys

I felt a lightness of being
walking this quiet way
the air fresh
aromas of salty sea, eucalypt
acacia and a woody balm

They say to argue on the side
of happiness
and even though back in reality the news
is full of fragmentation and distress
here for this time is beauty
to feed the soul
and I eat and drink every piece of nature
on the menu.

Time to be slow – John O’Donohue

colleen General, Poetry , ,

 

 

Time to be slow

This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.

Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.

If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.

John O’Donohue, Irish poet and philosopher

Excerpt from his books, To Bless the Space Between Us (US) / Benedictus (Europe)

https://johnodonohue.com/

Photo: Fanore, Co. Clare / Ireland – 2019 © Ann Cahill

Lockdown Walk No.1 Getting to know local inhabitants by Colleen Keating

colleen Lockdown Walks, Poetry , , , ,

Getting to know local inhabitants

there is no ordinary thing
the wind’s song in the she oaks drip of gold
on a pelican’s wing the whip-bird tease
the silver meddle of fish on the lake
encounters with magpie and wren, turtle and swan
ancient rocks and shift of tide
this is the joy of discovery

with snake-like neck the cormorant dives
the ibis clings awkwardly
to a branch on the Norfolk
the grey heron feeds in the light
under the brood of hills and
stillness of lake.

here is good energy to live by
each scene is startling
and poetry
to meet with hands open wide

knowing when we look
there are surprises –
other things to come
the heron’s pickax-beak wakes the stillness
wobbling the boats tied by the boatshed
the ibis lands down on the overflowing bin
and just when we are caught
in the moment
a reminder nothing is permanent

the cormorant surfaces to float idley
the grey heron cranks up
and flies into the sun
and we are left with the longing
for more of the extraordinary
or what now do we hold in our open hands?


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Celebrating winter light by Colleen Keating

colleen Poetry ,

 

 

It was the week before the Winter school break. We decided to come for a few days up the coast before the holiday. We believe the best kept secret is the Winter Beach.
And the past few days are the proof of that . . .
Rugged up and out walking we have enjoyed the soft landing of light on the lake, on the waves, on the birds’ wings, at dawn and at dusk .
The icing for us on our break is the waxing moon and the climax last night of the full moon, called the Strawberry Moon. We walked along the beach by the cold June sea to wait and watch for its appearance like one waits for a much anticipated celebrity. And she did not disappoint. In rich strawberry and cream she rose trailing clouds of salmon-pink, hints of saffron.

 

And Arvo Pärt seem to be with us as a Spiegle im Spiegle music played in colour and sound along the beach the moon with its golden path shimmering along the ocean dappled and rippled at the edge as the incoming tide gave the sand a mirror effect. Yes many have grappled with this celebration of light, One of my favourite artists JMW Turner is such a one with his paintings that burst with light.

Besides us on the beach was a fisherman,  four giggley girls one who told me she had already taken 200 photos, a few photographers up higher , a few seagull feeding from wet sand and a lone pelican, Michael and me.

 

Strawberry moon
a pelican and us two
drink-in the pink pool 

 

across the ocean
winter moon
unites us

our local aurora
light runs across the sky
and into my memory

How can I show we were immersed in a painting. Yes it could be a Turner?

Michael has just read a poem by Jack Cooper who calls himself an ‘observational free verse poet inspired by existence’ and this experience is a celebration for a poet.
as Mary Oliver writes about the take off of a swan across the sky,

And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

 

 

Winter Solstice and haiku by Colleen Keating

colleen Poetry , , , ,

Monday marks the Winter Solstice.

Leading off, here is a haiku by the 17th Century Japanese poet Matsuo Basho.

Like many haikus, it is deceptively simple: each line enacted by the next.

Winter solitude
in a world of one colour
the sound of wind.

 

What is the Winter Solstice?

The Winter Solstice has been celebrated for centuries and is the shortest day and the longest night of the year. It’s a time that is known for the sun to stand still before moving forwards to the slow progression of longer days. It has carried strong symbolism and some people refer to it as a rebirth of the sun. Occurring sometime between June 21- 22 June ( December 20 – 22 in the Northern Hemisphere).

It’s a time to honour the darkness and celebrate the light. It’s the perfect time for self reflection, putting yourself on pause and going within to connect to your own darkness and let go. I’m in the process of doing just that. Taking the time out that I need to re-group and letting go of thoughts and beliefs that no longer serve me.

The Winter Solstice doesn’t have to be a dark or somber reflective experience—it can be joyful and lighthearted. Winter festivals, fire and light and social gatherings are all part of it too. Celebrate the birth or return of the light

Here are two winter solstice haiku written by one of the haiku masters

snowflakes flitting down
a winter solstice<
celebration

Issa– translated by David G. Lanoue

 

winter solstice in Japan
plum trees
in bloom!

Issa – translated by David G. Lanoue

 

 

Some of my  own thoughts:  –

winter stroll 

a celebration dance

willy wag tail         col

 

 

winter stroll 

a canteen of spoonbills

filtering the mud         col

 

winter blues

only a heron and i 

drink in the light     col

ocean squall

a hawk soars 

in a cold up-draught   col

 

winter solstice 

my grand-daughter rides her bike 

without training wheels   col

 

winter solstice 

shadow of light turns

 on the nearby hill     col

 

the year’s shortest day

the sun breaks the horizon

anew    col

winter beach

winds abrasive dance 

keeps it lonely      col

 

 

winter lake

a cormorant hangs his wings 

out on the wind    col

wind chilled air 

cormorants sit brooding 

on every post    col

 

just another day

three pelicans wait for

return of fishing boats  col

 

winter solstice 

apples crisp for picking 

in the nearby hills          col

winter warmth

minestrone soup served with 

home-made bread    col

 

winter drive 

to pick apples

childhood memory             col

 

 

 

 

 

winter trees

birdwatching

made weasy     col

 

 

 

family gathering

with food laden table

her last meal            col