
This Too Shall Pass, Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery.

This Too Shall Pass, Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery.

‘Skilled in sweet measures, and mistress of the Tyre…’ H. Poynter. R.A. Presented by Miss Ada Wilson.’
This Too Shall Pass, Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery.
In week of want
She fell
Barely breathing
Soft down
Mother beaten
By quoll creeping
By midnight
Took her all
Plucked up
Tucked inside
The crevice of
My cleavage
Feeling beats
Smelling skin
Plucking courage
To cuddle in
Come by night
Settle in
On straw
Under lamp light
By morn I woke
She lay still
Crushed by
Weight of
Loneliness
Sometimes
Only hearing
Beats feeling
Spark of love
Healing
None else
Can be
Our light

Inspire
Expire
She moves on air
Vanishing
Deflating
When I first woke
From the nightmare
The cold sweat
Refreshing
All I'd claimed in me
Reappeared
Instantaneously
Writing profusely
My claim to fame
Spoke, wore, dared
Ignition broke
Driver beware
Ditched high hopes
Road to nowhere
Retreated inside
Capacious bare
Only to cling to
Fortunate words
Mythical poems
Senses and nerves
Prove them right
I lose myself
Prove them wrong
Push away
Yeast rising
Hot air
Proves
Daily bread
Every other voice
Chimes in
Beautifully
But only one
Cures gracefully
Sitting pretty
Perched above
Harbour views
Self-soothe
Record player
Of youth
Going roundabout
She is all and all
The girl on the corner
Flipping the bird
Tough time town
Take my word
Tears spilled always
Losing another
Cast away
Girl Friday
No long play
Nor single
Sings the lyrics
I wish to say
Fingers touch
Words into being
Never having
Your own
Living
Breathing
In love

Ever since when
Tucked inside
Safe harbour
Tending to
All her needs
When onlookers
Admire her wisdom
Sweat and tears
Protected for
The power
Of her beauty
All these years

Tied alongside
Sitting idle
Remembering
The thrill
Of the ride
Ocean waves
Hello
Goodbye
See you
Another time
Fresh air
Breeze
On skin
Salty
Turning
Rusty
Wanting
Washing over
Moving freely
Never feeling
Time enough
When made
For you

Welcome to my closet
Is so socially awkward
Parading your secret
But necessary
To speak of
Somewhere
Let it all out
Proudly state
With elevated
Heart rate
Yes!
I am
A poet

'...Is sweet and heady
Like my love
I feel unsteady
Where's my love?
Listen to me
Why is everything so hazy?
Isn't that she
Or am I just going crazy?
Lilac wine
I feel
Unready for my love'

Lyrics by James H. Shelton
No matter how
Hemmed in
We might feel
There is always
A way
To shine

Seeing green
Is necessary
For healthy mind
Forest bathing
Sublime
Wandering through
Hapless lives
How many times
Listening in
Expecting
Indifference
Disinterest
Instead
Twist of pain
Sharp sides
Insecurities denied
How I longed
To rest alongside
Ever wondering
Are they happier
Without me?
So many unknowns
Least of all
Knowing eyes
Green or blue?
Depending
Whether
Looking
At you
