Grass Skirt

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Kilt clan patterns
Mother’s hands twisting string for homemade
video to keep tradition strong
Once made from plants now plastic too
Scratching identity from legs to ankles
Calling out for head dress and for beads
Bare feet beating dance on earth
Sway and swish
Past, present and future steps
Given by my mother to say
You are grown

By June Perkins

 

This poem appears on Australian Children’s Poetry.  March 27 2018

Art Class

I have been delighted to have some work published at Australian Children’s Poetry blog.

blurred

 

Art Class

For Vincent’s  ‘The  Starry,  Starry Night’

 

Outlines crash into swirls

Miss Del Amico asks, what do you see?

Is that a sky of blue curls?

Outlines crash into swirls

Time to dive for some pearls

Will I find this painting’s key?

Outlines crash into swirls

Miss Del Amico asks, what do you see ?

June Perkins
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #8

poetry-prompt-8

 

 

 

June said: This is a triolet using the prompt ‘Blurred.’ The first words that came into my head were, ‘outlines crash into swirls’.

The trickiest thing with this poem was picking the artist.  Would they be someone I personally knew who painted, a fictional small child, or someone who everyone knows that paints?  I thought of a famous artist who used swirls, Vincent Van Gough.

I added the dedication to help with understanding of the poem.

I imagine this poem is an art class for early childhood with a teacher who likes to introduce the children to great artists, and likes to encourage them to look beyond the surface of the painting, into what it means to the artist who paints it.  I decided to name the teacher after my favourite art teacher at high school.

 

(Published March 3rd at Australian Children’s Poetry Blog)

Shoeful of Rain

From my Blog Vaults . . . A post about a Shoeful of Rain

Following the Crow Song

PIC00759.JPG Shoes and Blossoms – June Perkins

“A shoeful of rain. a heart full of friendship: imagining a world connected with strands of love.”

Above are some thoughts after meeting up with a friend at a cafe to talk about life, art, dreams – in our extremely busy schedules.

It was meant to be for one hour, but was two.

I never had sisters growing up, so friends who feel like sisters are very precious.

Going home I stepped in a puddle, but my heart was too happy to notice it much.

Life has been busy, working on a video for the kick starter, meeting up with friends, having friends not seen for over 14 years reconnect.

Stories wait to be edited, whilst one book is about (I sincerely) hope to be brought into the world.

And now a week after seeing my dear friend, who has such courage to follow…

View original post 27 more words

Mother Made it So

To celebrate Mother’s Day.
 Mother Made it So
 

I was a well groomed young lady because my mother always made it so.

She stressed ironed clothes, well brushed hair, and the best selection of hand-me-downs and St Vincent Wear, with the occasional new bargain thrown in.

Early photo albums always show her well dressed, but not conventionally so.
Sometimes she’s in saris, other times she’s in mini dresses with bee-hive hair.
Sometimes she’s in a grass skirt with a bikini top (because it’s Australia) ready for national dress events.

Make-up carefully applied, long lashes, now she looks like a Supreme.
Later there are leopard print clothes and bright vibrant purples and blues.
She’s usually slim, sometimes a little well- rounded, but only for a short time, then she’s slim again.

She moves (on a budget) with the times.
She moves with new geographies, Australia, not Papua New Guinea now.
She was generous with everything, including my time.
I was often the unpaid baby sitter for her friends and an old lady who once lived next door.

She was adopting the old ones to remind her of her mother.
She was making sure I knew how to clean, wash and cook and care for the old and the young.
She was taking me charity collecting for Red Cross, and we were running from big dogs guarding houses that don’t want charity collectors or anyone else at their door!

I was making mistakes, putting sugar with rice, wearing clothes that were out of fashion plus drawing on my sneakers.
I was trying to learn.
Patience has never been her strong point. Generosity has.

I didn’t know how to absorb what she was trying to teach me so, often I learnt something other than what she intended.

I learnt some people take too much from generous souls;
you can make a young boy leave his wheel chair with sheer will and lots of physical and emotional therapy and
you can change your future no matter how life begins.

She never gave up on the underdogs.
She was and still is critical, caring, and ferocious, all in one day.
She is my mother and she made me so.

My latest contribution to ABC Open.  A new project begins  Who Shaped Me

Image Credit: Mum from the Family Archives

First Published on my blog in 2012  https://gumbootspearlz.org/2012/11/02/mother-made-it-so/

Also check out Motherhood Sky on Pressbooks

Alphabet Father and Son

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(c) June Perkins

Alphabet father and son
pram wheels in late afternoon breeze
symbols of something
the poet thinks
‘perhaps they’re keys
– transfigured new age men.’

Robed in garments: peace and love
beaming virtues of transforming light
into actions of might
– guiding generations on their way.

(c) June Perkins

This poem may develop further or into series. There is so much discussion of domestic violence at the moment and what may stop it. I think of heroes like Rosie Batty who are bringing it into the spotlight of the media with their tireless work.

Sometimes I see signs of change – little seeds where there is no violence, only love. There’s a place for fathers, husbands, brothers, mothers, sisters, and children, to move beyond old habits and embrace a world that will be free from violence.

Sometimes it begins with the simplest transfigurations.

This poem first appeared on my Ripple Poetry Site. I am still experimenting with its final composition.

Visit my Ripple Poetry posting of it and let me know which version you prefer? Alphabet Father and Son: Ripple Poetry Site.