Wordplays

August Wordplays

Wordplay group meets on the first Saturday of the month, 12pm at Woolpack Hotel, Chalmers St, Redfern. All welcome.

Irene

(For Irene Doutney)

Irene, 1948-2018.

She was not the dates

but the dash in between.

From the moment her mother first held her,

from child to middling to Elder,

to the last breath exhaled

and everything in between,

that was Irene.

And the meaning of life

she saw clear,

Irene understood why

we are all here.

That it is in the service of others,

the supporting of our sisters and brothers,

the purpose we all share.

But in the haste of the 21st century,

it is easy to waste time and thought,

to be caught

up in ourselves.

But not Irene.

They say that which does not kill you

makes you strong,

and Irene, small and petite, was King Kong.

She fought for those who were

stigmatised,

criminalised by their life choices.

She spoke on behalf of the voiceless.

Where she saw injustice

she would call it out.

Not fearless, never fearless,

she knew fear, uncertainty and doubt,

but would still, defiant, glove up

for the bout.

No bravado, no bragging,

so pure of heart.

And now we must part,

so I say,

well-played, Irene, well-played.

  • Charmaine Jones

 

To Love Somebody

Look in the mirror a while

At your own face and smile

Uncurl your fingers to recall

 

Look in the mirror a while

At your own face and smile

Until your mask begins to fall

 

Look in the pocket of your shirt

Under the floor and in the dirt

Different tracks can look the same

 

Look in the pocket of your shirt

Under the floor and in the dirt

A rose to love by name, no name

 

I tried to love somebody

Drinking the tea and already

Thinking how thirsty I would be

How thirsty I would be

 

Look after the one thing

Your own way of praying

A need to run away, unwind

 

Look after the one thing

Your own way of praying

A face disappears in your mind

 

Hold hands, look at your thumbs

Any way the healing comes

The idols are absurd, of course

 

Hold hands, look at your thumbs

Any way the healing comes

The story’s in the broken glass

 

I tried to love somebody

Drinking the tea and already

Thinking how thirsty I would be

How thirsty I would be

  • Andrew Collis

 

Answering the question,

‘What would you want to be like?’

 As for me

I would be like

a green olive tree

in a sacred grove

 

there, from time

out of mind, but

tended sometimes

by the followers

 

of he who

walks back and forth

talking of forms

and pruning knives

 

and of souls

migrating like birds

from winter warning

to summer light …

  • Catherine Skipper

 

Forest

Leafy and luxurious,

she shades me

from the burning, summer sun.

A wonderful reminder

that God provides;

a celebration within

her branches that shield me

and create that comforting, dappled light.

I have no temptation

to climb this creation,

but am content to just admire.

  • Dorothy Blayney

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