Frangipani flowers free fall

Frangipani flowers free fall

Frangipani flowers
Free
Fall
Fragrant shower
Stars in the gutter
Five-pointed flutter
Wax-white
Drifting, summer snow
Urban pavement tread and trample
Glimpse of heaven
Scorned neglected
Quite rejected
Frangipani flowers
Free
Fall

27th February 2011, Bondi

The gift of a frappé

The gift of a frappé

The heat in here is Indian

Just before the rains

Alas no whirring fan

The coolest place? Tomorrow

Our cheery waiter quips

Waving of menus desultory

Dab where the sweat river drips

What bliss the gift of a frappé

Freezing in the throat

With strings on wings

The lovely Ella soars and dives

Major to minor, no love song finer

Sunday morning communion

Bondi breakfasting folk

20th February 2011, Bondi Trattoria, for the waiter who gave me the gift

Boy on a scooter

Boy on a scooter

See you fast forward fearlessly

Face to the future

Twenty-first century boy

Projection

A dream of all our possibilities,

Tomorrow's tomorrows

See your small feet

Modelled on my own, my mother's too

Genetic after-life and fast forward

Fearlessly

Twenty-first century boy

19th February, 2011, Bondi

Bondi gulls

Bondi gulls

Enacted on the canvas canopy

A show in shadow

Black starfish feet are dancing

Soft shoe shuffle

Seagulls in silhouette

But on the grass, in prose

( Not poetry)

They dart and skitter, flat on fingered webs

Pursued by boys with glee

Cinematic cliche

The silent movie chase

18th February 2011, Bondi

Will you little Bondi boy?

Will you little Bondi boy?

Will you little Bondi boy

Yearn for southern sun

Sound of the surf

Ever an ear, subconscious

For the fall and the rise

The cries unholy

Cockatoo and lorikeet?

Will you little Bondi boy

Seek the Southern Cross

By night, the sun-bleached days

The deep unbounded blue

Wish for the wind in the shoreline trees

For the gasp of an ocean pool

Hot sand

A land where a boy runs free?

13th February 2011,Bondi NSW, for Zachy with love

Perhaps we all were sleeping

Perhaps we all were sleeping

You ask, confused,
What sense there is
To pay one person millions
An annual salary, weekly
For someone with a simple skill
A talent in his feet
In hope of certain goals to come
Team victories, corporate riches

See here’s a case to ponder
Questions begged
A toddler’s stamped ‘Not fair!’
As millionaires evade their tax
Fail to condemn the fattest cats
All glossy coats and sleekness
But will not rest, will do their best
To trap those welfare scroungers

When did the scales of justice tip
Or was it always thus?
Now licence lent, unfettered
To monstrous grasping greed
No need to fret for poorer folk
An undeserving class
When was the fight for fairness skewed
Our value system twisted?

You ask, confused,
What sense there is
Perhaps we all were sleeping
When selfishness became the norm
And caring just a cause for scorn
So superficial matters most
And thin is good or thinner best
And winner takes it all

So pity then our populace
And all our blessed planet
If no one cares
For equal shares
And all our world’s distorted

February 2nd 2011, Brighton, for Jude, who asked, confused