The Sliver

AMP is building a mighty edifice behind their iconic Circular Quay headquarters. We gaze out at the workers on the 21st floor, who are variously tethered with safety cords and cloaked in hi-vis. It's a busy vista, but a fairly dirty and uninspiring one. They're buzzing around operating machinery, or alternatively, heaving beams and materials manually in scenes more reminiscent of workers in the 20s, when the city was in an earlier flush of building frenzy. 

However, if you press your forehead against the window of our hotel window and crane your neck towards the north, a magical sliver appears. Suddenly a treasure box of wonder can be glimpsed between the archetypal monument and the sandstone sheathed bulk of the Intercontinental. A tall, thin window to the harbour opens up, the water coruscating and bubbly in the wakes of ferries and cruising boats. The wharves push out from the quay like grasping fingers and the middle span of the Harbour Bridge umbrellas the portrait postcard scene. Luna Park is nestled at the foot of the great northern pylon, its Ferris Wheel still, yet dazzling as the sun catches its steel frame and sears the retinas, while the park's large, laughing, leering face mocks all forbidden to enter due to the pandemic.

Occasionally, people stroll along the street below, aimlessly it seems from our great height. Others brave the pedestrian footpaths on the bustling Cahill Expressway that scythes its way between the city and the harbour. The humans congregated on the decks of the ferries seem most intriguing as they mill and bustle. Where are they going and what will they do?

Are they seeking some sweet relaxation on the waters as the lock-downs ease after months? Do they have a date with friends or family in a socially distanced restaurant or pub? Are they heading home after a night shift cleaning one of the colossal structures overlooking the very ferry that they're on? Is that family going to the newly re-opened zoo? Who are they meeting? What are their plans? Why are they travelling? So many questions...

We're happy to watch the passing parade for now: our time will come when we, too, can be among the people with plans of our own. In the meantime, we will rest and dream.

Mind Slip

Nestled in my cerebrum

is a coral garden

inhabited by diminutive neon-striped fish.

Darting, technicolour lollies

with dialed-up clarity.

A child's colouring book,

its texta bright etchings

spill

into an iridescent ocean of thoughts.

Sunlight skips a tiny dance

through transparent bodies

as they kiss at

puffs

of microscopic life

encased in living cliffs.

Nibbling, pecking and falling

to cavernous trenches

as blue fades to navy and a murky steel.

My musings can be an ocean clam

yawning

and bogged,

spongy, sedentary.

Underwater sounds

echo and murmur

and SCUBAed mouths

breathe phosphorescent fizz,

a trail of bubbles

and a slow-motion shout's

distorted cry

…"oorrrrrggggghhhhh!"

Clarity sears when slow thoughts

emerge

from the deep.

A leviathan submarine, 

a drifting colossus.

Bulky

indistinct

with a questioning eye

glaring straight through me:

searching for sense,

a disdainful blink

before

the behemoth floats away.

Its legacy a deep thrilling fever

seeping and energizing,

mind racing free and clear.

(David)

London Town

(and a nod to Shakespeare's sonnets)

From ancient camps installed by waters deep,

Subsisting on the lifeblood's bounty by

Struggle, strife, survival lulled to sleep

Precarious lives suspect the end is nigh.

Defend the source against invading hordes,

Pyrrhic victories depress the populace,

Tribes evolve and peasants hail their Lords

Royal games begin, the Globe and palaces

Evolve from scabrous launch to dizzy heights,

Steel spine hardened by adversity and war,

Cultured urbane and dazzling human lights,

Edifices grand and stiff upper lip the core.

Thames' living fields pulse dance and sing
Hewn from battle, flourish... abiding

(David)

Quake

This morning a queasy tremble

Shuddered through our building:

An edifice anchored deep to bedrock

A tick burrowed in an animal's pelt

With some surprise, I swayed and swooned:

The power quite unsettling.

If this behemoth flicked like a flag in a breeze

What other jellied earth was shifting so?

I pondered the permanence

Of structures propped on shifting plates

Lives bedded on concrete and mortar

Fortunes fickle with steel and glass

Were we meant to worship the tactile

Or nestle deeper in thoughts and souls?

A love song, a thought caress sang softly to me

As the building quivered but failed to fall  

(David) 

Antidiluvian Apparatus

The Spirit Copier

Fresh faced teachers

twinkling with Socratic fervour

toiled before a manually cranked

gleaming metal drum

methyl cloud, a heady scent

pages spat with blue inked letters

little halos round each imploring the gods' attention

a Gestetner duplication

A Personal Ream of A4 Paper

A cache,

a secreted ream locked in a drawer

waiting

its precious cargo

raided sheet by sheet

a week's lessons jigsawed and patchworked

a double sided Rosetta stone

guarded, defended, treasured

The Overhead Projector

 a futuristic machine

a refulgent Dalek with a clunky fan

and a funky name

it scorched unwary hands

with gilled metal sides

that hacked  out fiery dragon coughs

plastic sheets lay recumbent, gelled as one

in bright cardboard folders

selected and peeled year on  year

a luminous lesson  beamed from box to screen.

"Dustless" Coloured Chalk

in ostrich plumed majesty,

it etched and evanesced.

a mist of tiny particles
exploded forth

as the stick tapped and danced

on an upright slate hoisted on the wall.

it taunted the class as it formed
a stick figure tableau vivant

like a Fauvist masterpiece.

(David)

Breathing

The cobalt quilt rises and falls

A metronomic iron lung

of cyan liquid power

Stalking shorebound prey

set to pounce

Petrol viridescence

as plump swells pulse

To rise, arching upward

A ballerina stretch

defying gravity

A viscous lip fills

thrusts and spits

its chandelier of shattered ice

A cocoon spun by

frenzied breeze

A fiberglass bullet

shocks a slicing dance

carving liquid sheets

Sharded glass strewn

through a boiling gash

Stretched seconds linger

A turbulent embrace

with a coconut tang

Deep tunnel shudder

euphoria lost

Piercing dive plunge

umbilical urethane snaps and tugs

A sled tombstones

shrieking lungs gasp

burst from mercuric depths

Float propulsion

return through churning walls

with bead splashed curves

deep obeisance

breathe and live

(David)
 

amaranthine

I gaze at a giant canvas

contemplating.

Chatter and movement dissolve

until I stand alone in the face of majesty

splashed and etched
with plump treacle serves

of coloured oil.

The vibrant garden

where wind whispers faint

and light spills then floods

intense.

I sigh content from depths of soul.

Can a person

pulse with Monet's power?
To still induce

a breathtaking gasp,

sucking air from a room

in a vacuumed

whoosh?

Induce an undiminished thrill,

a drug seeping,

filling veins,

addiction crave?  

Yes.

(David)