this photo was taken in full colour. It just turned out this way
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Holy Thursday Sunset
Holy Thursday, two thousand and six
Was the greatest sunset of my life.
Returning from swimming rain warmed waters,
Looked up at the convent, alone on the hill
I saw it was drenched from tower to steeple
In glorious light, more golden than eagle
It beckoned from its perch over Sydney.
Skies crowned above with imperial colour:
Clouds came alive with unforeseen splendour.
Suddenly out of those blankets of purple
There sprang forth an arch, brighter by second
I cannot recall rainbows more vivid,
For parallel soon a second arc crept
Together they stood in the darkening dusk.
The waves before me shimmered in colours
Half that of furnace, half that of sapphire
The light sank deeper in its orange bed
And the first clear sky of the day revealed
In a halo of Lapis for the hills.
Though rainbows must die, clouds soon turn to black
As darkness steals in, I would cry to miss
A greater beautiful sunset than this.
not the best, but i was proud i managed to fit it all into a ten-sylable meter
Was the greatest sunset of my life.
Returning from swimming rain warmed waters,
Looked up at the convent, alone on the hill
I saw it was drenched from tower to steeple
In glorious light, more golden than eagle
It beckoned from its perch over Sydney.
Skies crowned above with imperial colour:
Clouds came alive with unforeseen splendour.
Suddenly out of those blankets of purple
There sprang forth an arch, brighter by second
I cannot recall rainbows more vivid,
For parallel soon a second arc crept
Together they stood in the darkening dusk.
The waves before me shimmered in colours
Half that of furnace, half that of sapphire
The light sank deeper in its orange bed
And the first clear sky of the day revealed
In a halo of Lapis for the hills.
Though rainbows must die, clouds soon turn to black
As darkness steals in, I would cry to miss
A greater beautiful sunset than this.
not the best, but i was proud i managed to fit it all into a ten-sylable meter
Monday, April 24, 2006
Darling Harbour, Sydney, 2003
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Friday, April 21, 2006
True Story
In the gathering dusk I beached my canoe
The beach was shallow and muddy, with a tiny stream running through
From the waterfall that rattled softly in the distance.
Only the birds declared their existence.
Houses ringed the bay and boats sat inside it
But no human soul moved.
Slowly I was aware of music.
Softly a piano crept from a house perched on the cliff.
Slow chords trickled out;
Exquisitely sad, longing and lonely
But never hopeless, and somehow mystical.
I planted my paddle in the sand and stood enchanted.
And I wondered that I would never know the player who gave me such intimacy:
A song I had never heard before,
Nor will again, I feel.
Suddenly it stopped, and I was cold, and wet, and alone.
'A poem is never finished, only abandoned' - Paul Valery
The beach was shallow and muddy, with a tiny stream running through
From the waterfall that rattled softly in the distance.
Only the birds declared their existence.
Houses ringed the bay and boats sat inside it
But no human soul moved.
Slowly I was aware of music.
Softly a piano crept from a house perched on the cliff.
Slow chords trickled out;
Exquisitely sad, longing and lonely
But never hopeless, and somehow mystical.
I planted my paddle in the sand and stood enchanted.
And I wondered that I would never know the player who gave me such intimacy:
A song I had never heard before,
Nor will again, I feel.
Suddenly it stopped, and I was cold, and wet, and alone.
'A poem is never finished, only abandoned' - Paul Valery
Thursday, April 20, 2006
other people's poems
i still havnt polished those australian poems, so here's a few of my favourite poems that anyone with an interest in poetry should read.
of primary importance:
TS Elliot - The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock
Dylan Thomas - Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Thomas Hardy - Afterwards
WB Yeats - He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven
Phillip Larkin - This Be The Verse
and because i cant confine myself to five choices:
Robert Frost - Aquainted With The Night
Ted Hughes - The Thought Fox
Percy Bysshe Shelley - Ozymandius Of Egypt
Louis Macneice - Prayer Before Birth
George Gordon, Lord Byron - We'll No More Go A Roving
of primary importance:
TS Elliot - The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock
Dylan Thomas - Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Thomas Hardy - Afterwards
WB Yeats - He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven
Phillip Larkin - This Be The Verse
and because i cant confine myself to five choices:
Robert Frost - Aquainted With The Night
Ted Hughes - The Thought Fox
Percy Bysshe Shelley - Ozymandius Of Egypt
Louis Macneice - Prayer Before Birth
George Gordon, Lord Byron - We'll No More Go A Roving
Monday, April 17, 2006
news
That last picture was taken two years ago. Three days ago i returned to exactly the same spot. Loads of my best pictures are from that trip to Austalia/Japan two years ago. Unfortunatly my trip this time was not nearly so fruitful, as i managed to lose my camera. So no new pictures for a long time, methinks. I did manage to write about six poems, all of which will hopefully appear once i've polished them. Anyway, here's one of my very first poems:
A Magical Time
I watch the earth, and sea, and sky,
The tranquil sky, blue as the sea beneath
A lone bird wheels among snowy clouds
Waves lapping softly on golden sands.
Grey stone, as if sculpted by angelic hands
Stacked in towers like monuments to an ancient god.
Forests as silent as birdsong at dawn
Far off mountains, blue with mists of the unknown
That roll into the far side of infinity.
Softly blazing sun, burning a trail of healing radiance
Baking the rocks, red as the heat of a thousand years.
My feet make tracks in the sand
I feel like an alien here.
But if I was not here, it would not even exist
For what is beauty, when none can see it?
This scene of more worth than any prince’s hoard.
this was also inspired by Aus, three years ago this one. My old english teacher made us enter poems for some kind of Hillindgon competition. This one came second, and it kinda sparked my whole interest in writing poetry. The title was fixed by the competition (because it is a terrible title)
The tranquil sky, blue as the sea beneath
A lone bird wheels among snowy clouds
Waves lapping softly on golden sands.
Grey stone, as if sculpted by angelic hands
Stacked in towers like monuments to an ancient god.
Forests as silent as birdsong at dawn
Far off mountains, blue with mists of the unknown
That roll into the far side of infinity.
Softly blazing sun, burning a trail of healing radiance
Baking the rocks, red as the heat of a thousand years.
My feet make tracks in the sand
I feel like an alien here.
But if I was not here, it would not even exist
For what is beauty, when none can see it?
This scene of more worth than any prince’s hoard.
this was also inspired by Aus, three years ago this one. My old english teacher made us enter poems for some kind of Hillindgon competition. This one came second, and it kinda sparked my whole interest in writing poetry. The title was fixed by the competition (because it is a terrible title)
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