Storyweavers' Rap by Deborah Oberon StoryWeaversVisionQuest2020: We weave you in line by line by line We tell you sweet juicy stories Time after time after time….. Haux! Haux! LissenUp! LissenUp! We GrandmotherSpider and Her CouncilONine And we got sum stories to share [...]
for Jean-Pierre & Samuel I watch you, my child, curled in your cradle of darkness, sprung from the womb of All Presence: you are a comma in Creation’s silent roar, namelessly poised on the brink of a life, anointed by the love [...]
Down by the water in the summery heat, Fisheries Officers are out on the beat, Singin’ “Hey there fishers, learn from the past - Fish for the future and make the fish last.” Long time ago, when the cod was king, More fish were swimmin’ [...]
I remember, I remember The bright stars The dark night How we flew together Without fear Into the violet spaces between the stars Over the midnight blue mountains From one cluster of brightness to another To the end of the galaxy And how you pointed [...]
He tells me the sickness in my lungs is sadness. “Sadness about what?” I ask. There are so many possibilities, but only one I do not want to name. He shakes his head and smiles, his eyes twinkling, as though it is all a game [...]
Tangled empty branches I clamber through Searching for some bud, some shoot, some blossom, Some opening into your secret hidden sap. Almost forgotten the spring, the summer of your bright green bounty: its precious fruit. I clamber carefully Not wanting to fall, Afraid this branch [...]
When the beloved turns his face away and his sister gives you kind smiles. When you feel yourself slipping into loss and longing for what never could be. When you have paused for the day in a wilderness by the sea — an aching roll [...]
I. I am the golden light unfolding, holding the first seed of becoming. I am the green bough unraveled, the curves of flesh that blur Into the trunks of trees, and my hair Is tangled in the forest's weave. Stars have fallen all around me, [...]
If I were a poet, I would balance each word upon the many scarlet tongues of the bottle brush: suspended between sunlight and shade, and sipped by stripe-bellied honeyeaters with perfectly pointed beaks. If I were a poet, I would lay down my empty page [...]
Into the heart of sorrow you have taken me, with your wide wings of longing and your sharp beak of truth. Into the heart of sorrow we have flown and we have known love's aching reality, That none can give another what she cannot give [...]
