THE MEANING OF AUTUMN

AUTUMN whispers the tones of yesterday in a minor key ~ Gemma Wiseman

AUSTRALIA ~ The Antipodes

AUSTRALIA ~ The Antipodes
I love a sunburnt country / A land of sweeping plains / Of ragged mountain ranges / Of droughts and flooding rains / I love her far horizons / I love her jewel-sea / Her beauty and her terror / The wide brown land for me / ~ Dorothea Mackellar (1885-1968)

Followers

Monday, April 23, 2007

The Future

Old man dreaming
In the crumbling light of Uluru
Pale visions
Pale lifetimes

But still
I was and
I am

My mind is the pulse of lingering dance
My soul the whimsy of ancient breath

I am the child of yesterday
Free to be
The spirit of tomorrow

Terra australis
Incognito
For some
But the rainbow serpent
Sleeps
A restless sleep
Within the valley of fears
Tears
Roaming years

But still I was and
I am
Old man dreaming

It’s Marmalade at Midday…

It's Marmalade at Midday...~
The Friday Forgotten #005~

When the planets were slightly askew
And the air
Electronic...

It's Marmalade at Midday!
Secret light lingering
In the silk road
Stillness
Of an infinite moment.
Silent words wandering
Breathless sands
Of a seashore sunrise...

It's Marmalade at Midday!
Distant music of clash and chagrin
Guitared rhythms of pulse and pain
Sonnet couplet of muse and mayhem
Ave atque vale debutante and anthem...

To be or not to be
That is the dream.
Whether 'tis wiser to suffer
The twists and torments
Of smiling Fortune
Or to take a stand
Against the current of ebb tides
And be
Or not be...

Imagine the taste of Marmalade at Midday!
Sweet spice
Twelfth Night at noon
Viola and violin
Orchestrate Misrule...
If Music be the Staff of Love
Play Marmalade at Midday!

Silken light lingering
In the secret
Stillness
Sweet pain wandering
Breathless sands
Dreaming
Warming
Basking
In a seashore sunrise...

Immortal Moment
Hunter to Prey
Chance to Circumstance
Marmalade at Midday...


Langurs in the Guava Tree

LANGURS IN THE GUAVA TREE~
The Friday Forgotten #4~


Sampath paled in the tightening silence...
Many dreams
From the sermon in the guava tree...
Many lights
From the games of silver langurs in the guava tree...

It seems the orchard is empty...
It seems limpid laws of midsummer madness
Shiver...
Straighten...
Leafless...
Naked...

The question of darkness descends...

Sampath tastes freedom...
Unbeautiful brown fruits...
Even the guava...ripened, graced, with a tiny brown birth mark...
Lingering in moonlit leaves...
Mount Olympian chambers of secret stars...

But for those who whirled in the heady sense of dance...
Awakening becomes a dimming...
Moonless...
A falling from a far height...
The lashing crack of splintered timber...

And tremulous eyes in charcoal faces
Wend softly, slowly...
Magnetised...
To the waiting, bubbling cauldron...

Queensland~ 29.12.03.......Tangled webs after reading Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchardby Kiran Desai. 1998.


Café L’Incontro…

Friday Forgotten #2
+
Poetry Pantry #53
Café L’Incontro…
Surfing the colours of Swanston Street
With the eyes…
Civilized delights…
Brewed in heaven…
A sensual Mardi Gras…
Tantalising
The froth of a lonely cappuccino…

The walkers were mainly in black and white…
But I wore deep sapphire blue…

Café L’Incontro is pleased to present…
Sirocco…
Quiksilver…
Paul Bram Diamonds…
Ice…

But the eyes dwelled on a thought…
Passing…
“Laverton or London” is the question…
Passing on a clanking tram roof…
The answer murmured close by…
“I must see Last Samurai again…
Sheer bravery…almost overwhelming…”


I gathered he was a struggling musician…
Struggling to survive his vision…

So I thought I was watching reality…
But reality was watching me…

Tiny dull tinctured linnets…
Nervously scanned the space between the cup
And croissant crumbs…
There were just three…
Till one intrepid soul dared to meet my world…
I smiled as he feasted…
Briefly he eyed the manna...
But his gaze lingered with me…

Very still…I stayed very still…
Only the eyes noticed…
More reality was watching me…

The walkers were mainly in black and white…
But I’m glad I wore deep sapphire blue…
~

NOTE: Swanston Street is in the heart of the city of Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
~




The Poetry Pantry is hosted by Poets United

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Arthurs Seat Dreaming

Drove around Arthurs Seat area on the weekend. The drive down the mountainside to Dromana below is awesome. Wrapped in clouds encircling the mountain top and then an amazing vista all along the coast of Port Phillip Bay opens up. This particular morning, the waters of the bay were many auras of sapphire blues, softly reaching away to the headlands. Weekend boaters crowded the shoreline. There are still crowds of holiday campers by the old bathing boxes. How do they live in such cramped surroundings, just to savour a taste of blue for awhiles? But from Christmas on, they come. And they stay till Easter at least.

I wish the Arthurs Seat Hotel retained its old name...Mountains of the Moon.
Wonder why it was changed?

Thursday, April 19, 2007

A 'Stormy' 24 hours...but now the waters are calmer

The man I love has been in great pain. At last, after massaging and just being there, he is more at peace. Work was kind, giving me time to be with him. And while he slept, I felt moved to write a poem on storms...'Storms-in-Waiting'. You can find it on Helium. No, it is NOT a wallow in misery. But it is challenging!

Somehow, writing saves my spirit.

'I needed that quietness today' my love just said.

He is one of those guys who just won't go to the doctor. It is so frustrating. But, I told him, as I am home from work keeping him company, I must get a doctor's certificate...as a carer. Would you believe, that worked!!!! He is going to the doctor's at midday tomorrow!!!

There is a fragment of hope!!!

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

The man I love is dying

Perhaps I shouldn't be writing this post. But I need to stay calm. Writing is always great for the spirit. I am supporting a man who loves me - as I love him. We have taken a lifetime to find each other. But now, cancer is slowly taking him away from me.
He hates not being able to work. There is no way he can maintain a steady job.
So, even though I lost all in Tasmania, I long to have my own house again and get off this suffocating, frightening rental merry-go-round. I am probably too old to get a house needing a mortgage. I keep telling myself I still must try. I must keep trying and hoping it may happen. Just sometimes I am not so strong. Like now! I just want him to feel safe. He worries so much about what will happen to me. Don't get me wrong. I do have a full time job. But it is hard supporting both of us. In short, I can never retire. It is just not an option. He cooks for me to keep me going. He does all he can in the house. He is just so wonderful. I feel life has drawn us a heavy card. I wish I could see a way to do more. I dream of just a small cottage on the Mornington Peninsula. I don't want much. I just want to give the man I love all I can. He deserves it. He is so special. I have never been so loved. I wish there was a miracle out there for us; some way I can get the medication he needs and some way I can give him a home. Perhaps there is a miracle for us. I MUST just keep believing. This is not my best writing. Fragmented thoughts...

Sunday, April 15, 2007

My last day for creative writing...Just stolen hours for a little while

It is now just on time for sleep. I have savoured my last day of writing when the impulse moves me. My last article on Helium tonight was ''How to dress business casual and still look like an executive'. No!!! I'm not desperate!!! I am just challenging myself to write to a wide variety of topics!!! Great experience!!!

But it is back to work tomorrow!!! Just stolen writing moments for a while!!!!

Longing for the Isle of Light - Tasmania

Even though the Mornington Peninsula is a wonderful world for the spirit, I still have moments of longing for another world...northern Tasmania. I imagine the Peninsula reaching out across Bass Strait and keeping me in touch.

Perhaps someday, the dream may yet happen. I will live and write in Tasmania. Meanwhile, I will just keep writing to get there!!!

A magic carpet ride with AuraGem!!!!

Saturday, April 14, 2007

Greyscale Territory + Gemma Wiseman + AuraGem

Why have I chosen 3 names? I like the enigma of the Greyscale Territory nic. It represents the freedom of wandering scattered thoughts, without needing to walk the highway of popular labels. Greyscale Territory interlaces genres and maybe even creates new ones. The AuraGem nic represents the sparkle of my creative inner spirit. Gemma Wiseman is the pen-name I must adopt for political correctness. But there is still a hint of "Gem". Yes, I know a very greyscale argument. But that is the nature of my spiritual territory.

Friday, April 13, 2007

Creative Writing on Helium

What a week!!! I have been churning out article after article ( mostly poetry) for the Helium website. All this flurry has to happen before I go back to school next week. No time to add more thoughts to this blog...yet!!!

I am still debating whether to make this 'a blog of many colours' - poetry, comment...wherever the fancy takes me. If nothing else, it will be unique!!!

All I hope is that somehow I can get my writing out there.

I am now considering real estate ads and travel brochures!!! There should be more hours in the day!!!!

DON'T FORGET!!! IF YOU WISH TO VIEW MORE OF MY WORK ON HELIUM,

I AM AURAGEM.

Monday, April 9, 2007

A Leunig Moment


Leunig is our guru of the 21st century. Not all agree. Few find his teapots, Mr Curly and ducks offensive. He is the little voice of the little people and the voice some 'big' people should never ignore. But many feel his political journeys are narrow crusades. The Greeks understood. Their gods were not perfect, high moral clones performing in perfectly repetitive bland allegories. Once in a while, their gods 'came down to earth' and dabbled in ungodly 'nitty-gritty' life. Hence, there were many stories of the gods. They were alive, lovable and almost human. They reflected the many faces of the Greek world. Sometimes, in reaching an exreme few, they rattled the many. How newsworthy!!! How delightful!!! How Leunig!!!


I have used Leunig in my senior English class. He is a wonderful means of exploring satire AND developing an opinion. This particular cartoon helped a rather average class of students experience satire. There was no need for a complex definition of the term 'satire'. There was just the thrill of the adventure. We all loved it!!!

Sunday, April 8, 2007

Spirit Renewed

It is Easter.

The world is simply the wrong shape...I wrote some years ago in one of my crazy, romantic moments. Today, I wanted to post a poem to celebrate Easter. I barely opened my poetry bank savings, and, somehow, this poem seemed just right...There is a sense of the spirit crucified and then rising again...

May your Spirit find new joy this Easter.

Society is simply the wrong shape...for some

SOCIETY IS SIMPLY THE WRONG SHAPE FOR SOME

(The Friday Forgotten #003)

A season to dance
A season to dream
While some huddle close to the flames of log fires

Others wander cold sands
Etched by pounding winter waves
But the longing is the same


Sands of time
Sands of the hour glass
A magical kingdom in a grain of sand

He was a traveler
Seeking the frozen secrets of a land long forgotten
He was different
For some
Watching the flames is not enough
For some
Wandering the same shoreline is not enough
Just to watch a cricket game
Zaps the spirit

For some
The world is simply the wrong shape

This time
His journey consumed weeks of time
Time out
Or perhaps really
Time in

Finally he returned
Dusty
Jagged
Unironed
Some would say wild

The day was windy
The air was chilled
And he found her lingering by the tiny waves
Tumbling on the shoreline

I will bring you back a hand full of sand
On a windy day.
Some will go into your hand
Some will drift on the wind
Like I think it should.
We shouldn't really own anything which belongs to the earth ey?

Hands gently reaching
A little sand for the dance and the dream

A little sand for the winds of time
A little sand for the soul
~

Saturday, April 7, 2007

FIRST THOUGHTS - The Internet for a Grey Nomad




Fingers trembling, I wander into the caverns of the mysterious internet world. Just a few years ago, I fought passionately against ever feeling a need for a computer. And now??? Well...It's the most exciting research library...an armchair traveller.
I love to explore new skills...trial and error style...
Right now, I barely know how to begin this blog.
But the thought of maybe airing some of my poetry
and perhaps finding a miracle for the dearest man in my life...
Finally, we found love...we found each other...It's never too late...
We are battlers, but we love...hmmm
The picture was taken down Mornington Peninsula way in July, 2006.
The sea...a wonderful breath of freedom...

CALENDAR

Tasmania

Tasmania
A place of beauty in the Western Tiers

Tasmania

Tasmania
View near Blackwood Park Cottages, Mole Creek

New Landscapes

New Landscapes
New Worlds

Archive of Blog Quotes

  • A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken. ~James Dent
  • Autumn is an introspective season when stray thoughts of the mind dive into the mystique of the soul - Gemma Wiseman
  • Autumn is the bridesmaid of Summer and the flowergirl of Winter ~ Gemma Wiseman
  • Autumn whispers the tones of yesterday in a minor key ~ Gemma Wiseman
  • Love is born / With a dark and troubled face, / When hope is dead / And in the most unlikely place; / Love is born, / Love is always born. - Michael Leunig's Christmas Song Cycle "Southern Star"
  • Spring paints the stars of heaven in Earth colours ~ Gemma Wiseman
  • Summer sizzles with a sibilant hush / Broken by dreams of / Clinking ice ~ Gemma Wiseman
  • The object of a new year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul. - G.K. Chesterton
  • Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. - Stanley Horowitz
  • Winter is the fire, simmering lonely in the soul ~ Gemma Wiseman
  • Winter is the shadow, the etching of the seasons in the mist ~ Gemma Wiseman

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The Inner Light of the Spirit

The Inner Light of the Spirit
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