Ancient Modern

Reflecting on ancient and modern legacies and wondering what they will be?

Ripple Poetry

(I)

In the seventies

old souls with young faces

went looking for revolutions’ places

found heroes called Bob Dylan

looked in music for something

more than melody

danced with metaphors deep

and blue.

Now young souls with old faces

say, ‘Who on earth was he?’

and one wonders is there any

such thing as

legacy

to the old and young set in stone

are they open to change?

When will young faces have

young souls

and old souls have old faces

Or is it all a dreamer’s mask?

And a distraction to the true task

as we all face the fading of our bones.

To live the poet’s life

let the words

find the souls they belong to

doesn’t matter old or young

look beyond the face

listen to wisdom from every voice

keep alive the questioning of youth

and in the silence after sing

the open door.

(c June…

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From Prose to Poetry: Reinventing ‘The Bubble’ part 2: Morning Vignettes

I’ve decided to workshop some old notebook pieces from prose into poems. Here is the journey of one such piece, ‘The Bubble’. (There are two posts so far on this).

Ripple Poetry

Blowing Bubbles, by June Perkins

Before applying some ideas from yesterday, I decided

‘The Bubble’ needed to be examined for its observational strengths.

I took a different approach by trimming excess words and shaping them into stanzas.

Then I did a little bit of work on developing the bubble metaphor.

I added a new title  ‘Morning Vignettes.’

I am also thinking about ‘bubbles’ of memory such as in the photograph above in this post.

Draft 2 # The Bubble

Morning Vignettes

Lavender princess chats to her sister.

Mother, whose vigil is her third child

the baby in her pram, turns around to

makes sure they haven’t disappeared. 

Her protective gaze surrounds them

a bubble of protection

that could be broken.

School boys with ruffled shirts

caps tilted sideways

soft drinks in hand, call…

‘John, Josh…’

Friendship is their shield

and their challenge.

Their bubble is boisterous and loud.

Girls, with…

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A Cry of Art

A recent poem.

Ripple Poetry

Image Credit: Milada Vigerova

Whose Broken Window is a Cry of Art

Whose name do I speak when thinking of the
Broken, but the brother I lost
Window to his childhood
Is a photograph
A portal for mother and father who
Cry for this young man
Of bravery and beauty – crushed, then separated from the
Art of his life

By June Perkins inspired by Gwendolyn Brooks.

My first golden shovel poem 

This one inspired by Boy Breaking Glass

For more on a Golden Shovel Poem

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Looking forward to a day

In a time when identities can lead to

tribalism and nationalism

my blood is not thicker than water.

 

I choose to be a world citizen

celebrating unity in diversity and

the full diversity of

all my cultural heritages.

 

World Unity Day

that’s a celebration worth hoping for.

 

Love you Mum and Dad

Tasmania,

Queensland, Papua New Guinea,

Papua New Guinean Australia,

Oceania, France, England

and any other culture that wants to claim me.

I will be yours.

 

By June Perkins

Threads

Ripple Poetry

Time threads me
into you

Stars salt me with
the blue

Time traps me in
your silk

Stars sweet me with
your song

Fish threads me into
net

Ocean salts me with
your loss

Song sings me into
sorrows

Time hooks me into
blue

It threads me into
you

It leads me toward
you

(c) Words and image June Perkins (From my notebook)

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