poetalmanac.blogspot.com

A Poet's Almanac

Monday, 17 August 2015. I watch people undertake mindless rituals. They do these activities which define them,. For no other reasons than habit. Or perhaps a promised ticket to heaven. I ask them why? What is the purpose? They don't seem to know the answers. Yesterday a Koori Uncle explained a practice of his people. Build up the camp-fire before you retire for the night. To me it served no purpose in the laws of cause and effect. Tomorrow we would need to gather more wood,. What all rituals are about.

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A Poet's Almanac | poetalmanac.blogspot.com Reviews

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Monday, 17 August 2015. I watch people undertake mindless rituals. They do these activities which define them,. For no other reasons than habit. Or perhaps a promised ticket to heaven. I ask them why? What is the purpose? They don't seem to know the answers. Yesterday a Koori Uncle explained a practice of his people. Build up the camp-fire before you retire for the night. To me it served no purpose in the laws of cause and effect. Tomorrow we would need to gather more wood,. What all rituals are about.

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A Poet's Almanac | poetalmanac.blogspot.com Reviews

https://poetalmanac.blogspot.com

Monday, 17 August 2015. I watch people undertake mindless rituals. They do these activities which define them,. For no other reasons than habit. Or perhaps a promised ticket to heaven. I ask them why? What is the purpose? They don't seem to know the answers. Yesterday a Koori Uncle explained a practice of his people. Build up the camp-fire before you retire for the night. To me it served no purpose in the laws of cause and effect. Tomorrow we would need to gather more wood,. What all rituals are about.

INTERNAL PAGES

poetalmanac.blogspot.com

1

A Poet's Almanac: Resolution

http://www.poetalmanac.blogspot.com/2015/08/resolution.html

Monday, 17 August 2015. Despite my meltdown,. Sometimes only an action from me,. Will break the stalemate. The time goes on too long,. The distress too great. The rescuer requires rescuing. Even when things seem hopeless,. There can be a brief moment,. When a small crack,. Lets in a splinter of light. I seize the opportunity,. Rip the grey sky apart,. To let in the light. Feel the warm sun on my face. Reach for your hand and we go out in it,. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). The Snowy River Men. Stuck...

2

A Poet's Almanac: Catharsis of Tattooing Flesh

http://www.poetalmanac.blogspot.com/2015/08/catharsis-of-tattooing-flesh.html

Monday, 17 August 2015. Catharsis of Tattooing Flesh. Searing and imprinting,. Self defining symbols on flesh. Ideas, convictions and ideals,. An anchor to maintain mindfulness. In inconspicuous places,. The scribing of my body,. Is for an audience of one,. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). The Snowy River Men. Aboriginal culture. land. Red fergie. zen. Simple pleasures. gratitude. View my complete profile. Looking out at Postman's Spur. Another Grey Wet Day. Sometimes you just stop. They go in Threes.

3

A Poet's Almanac: Delayed Gratification

http://www.poetalmanac.blogspot.com/2015/08/delayed-gratification.html

Wednesday, 5 August 2015. I mourn for the loss of delayed gratification. When life was simple and choices few. When waiting for the next ball or picnic races,. But we can no longer wait and we needn't. Our pace increases with the loss of each local service. No longer doing the weekly shop in the local village. Time is spent travelling the hundreds of kilometres. To the doctor, dentist even the supermarket. Local sport, entertainment gone. Wait for the next blockbuster movie to wend its way to the bush?

4

A Poet's Almanac: The solemnity and reverence of falling snow

http://www.poetalmanac.blogspot.com/2015/08/the-solemnity-and-reverence-of-falling.html

Wednesday, 5 August 2015. The solemnity and reverence of falling snow. The slow procession of flakes,. Dropping daintily from the sky,. Like a choreographed ballet,. Fills me with a sacred awe. The forest quietens,. As the birds and animals,. Speak in moderated tones. Their home has become a light-filled cathedral. And they demonstrate respect for its majesty. I become mesmerised by the passage of single flakes. And feel my soul cleansed and nourished,. By the freshness of this pure modest spectacle.

5

A Poet's Almanac: Made by Hand

http://www.poetalmanac.blogspot.com/2015/08/made-by-hand.html

Saturday, 8 August 2015. My son is dismissive. Why waste your time? You can pick up slippers at Aldi. Your're just 'Povo'.". Poverty is not seeing the workmanship,. The care and love,. That went into his little brother's moccasins. A goat pelt I tanned,. From a kid I raised,. That fed our family. The little foot I measured,. And the leather I softened and stitched. Little brother was out playing,. With his head band of cockatoo feathers,. His wattle bow and arrow. The timing was serendipitous. Shame is a...

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Monday, 17 August 2015. I watch people undertake mindless rituals. They do these activities which define them,. For no other reasons than habit. Or perhaps a promised ticket to heaven. I ask them why? What is the purpose? They don't seem to know the answers. Yesterday a Koori Uncle explained a practice of his people. Build up the camp-fire before you retire for the night. To me it served no purpose in the laws of cause and effect. Tomorrow we would need to gather more wood,. What all rituals are about.

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