Writing and Poetry PDF Print E-mail

Click here to view excerpts from some of Mary’s work:


The Clouds….

They gathered in the sky that day like photogenic portents of a thunderstorm,
A promise of cool change?
What irony that some who saw them thought as much,
So blistered were their brains by savage heat and thirst for rain.

The creatures of the air foretell the doom to come.
An eagle known to locals, swoops, soars in jagged angles,
Kamikaze cockies, screeching magpies,
Drop         Down        Dead.

And through an open window drift the silent butterflies,
Of one mind and in slow motion
Sailing down to seek some shelter underneath a desk:
Innocents hiding from a monster.

Now we know this is no ordinary day.

Barely time to grope for keys and stumble to the car
For beast’s black breath turns day to night
A stinking shroud of smoke robs those inside
Of breath and vision, both.

RUN

Outside the sky is falling down in flaming shreds,
The membrane of our world has ripped and earth must burn!
Wailing wind becomes a screech, spins round a treacherous 180,
Another sound starts underneath, a mighty roar,
Our earth is shaking like a leaf.

Later, Fireys tell of rippling orange wavelets racing overland,
A red tsunami rolls in, smoky breakers at the front
And at its heart (if fire has a heart), a hot and hungry beast.

Our enemy is faceless, eyeless
Beyond reason.
For it takes the solid and the precious,
Leaving worthless things behind:

A herd of cattle felled,
A family killed inside their home,
And yet, a swing survives.


Grandmother Platypus
swimmer between rock and sky

cool blue head, that father of mind
warm red heart, that mother of blood

when your eyes met mine
that afternoon
I was changed forever

you said
“I am your mother”

so I became that searcher
in a waterhole

as strange to me
as beak to fur
as egg to mammal

the hole I search for
is long gone

it’s dried up surface
turned to dust
it’s red heart lost
beats still
in time with mine

as strange to me
as beak to fur
as egg to mammal

half who?
half what?


She came to me with measured steps upon

The needles, cool and green of pine

I heard her invitation long ago, a song

Persistent chant, a pulse divine.


Her robe was forest green, her feet were bare

And she was tall and chiselled, woodland wise

With vines and flowers in her hair

She gazed at me, sweet fire in her eyes


And there appeared above her head a hawk

I knew at once that Coraven my guide

Had come from astral realms, a form, a thought

To take me on some fantastical ride


Ride across the water, still and green,

The Lady Bridget gave to me a sword

And we did sail upon that lake serene

An inlet wrapped a rocky cape, unspoiled


She held a golden sphere, an orb in her right palm

A sun of metal and of light,

Upon me poured a sheen, electric balm

A gift that held both gentleness and might

 

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