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About aperture

Living on the island state of Tasmania, Australia. Narrating life through poetry and photography.

Colour my world

I am no blank canvas
Her voice carries
Over exhaled droplets
Float on chill air
Chiffon stiffens
Over her breast
Pertinent news
Traded for lashes
Poignant painter
Strokes her curves
With tip of brush
Dipped and licked
Tip of tongue
Flicks with gossip
Gleaned from models
Like this one
But not
All the stories
Laid out to honour
The delicate shape
Of her ear
Dripping with pearl drop
Lungs fill suddenly
Then stop
As a fine hand decorated
With a spectrum of splatter
Adjusts the neckline
Then dabs another
Skin colour
Deep and divine
Portrait by Lily Allport, State Library of Tasmania

Tendrils of time

Sweeping to and fro
Pulsing on ribbons
Streamers glistening baubles
Twirling with rising tide
Teasing her threads
Of sterling silver
Platinum
Softly wavering
All is quiet
Eyelids broaden
Peripheral vision
Stunning finds
Laced with regret
Submerged fields
Bottlegreen satin
Thickets thinning
With age old wisdom
Does anyone listen
When seeing nothing
Left for our children?
She paddles solo
As the echo chamber
In my head repeats deafeningly
What's down there?

Great question

Hemmed between two women
Whose adventures stitch
Threads of images along
Fraying edges of mine
Intelligences
Covering the great expanse
Down to the particles
Of origin and earthly existence
Power couple like moons rotating in orbit
Planet like sinking ship
They floatation devices
To cling to
As we abandon our scripts
Play ad lib on stringed instruments
With salt lapping at
Our noses
I admire their smiles
As warmth in my belly
Dissolves the awkward
Moments when she
Materialises in scene
A simple equation
A square root not threes
The answer lies with me

Watershed moment

All polished performance of lyric
Chime like a babbling brook
Met in my ears by
Sweeping deep ocean current
Esteemed verse lost in extremes
On all appearances
A sunlit icecap
Underneath glacial still
Torrents melting
Surging along with inevitable flow
Not knowing where to go
Whether to land
On quiet shores again
Carried in resignation
North where steel blue
Moves into folds
Of turquoise, yellow
Above bright coral
Skirts lying on sandy knees
Though carrying within
Long memory
Pieces of unseen life
Held south willingly
Hostage to elements
Unpredictability
How many seasons till
Released from heavenly grip
Fresh burst rush of spring
Melts into arms
Of tropical current
Gentle curl round
Rest on shores
All wings now spawn
A flowery mix
Of cool and warm