Welcome to Eureka Street

back to site

ARTS AND CULTURE

Sharpen your ears to soul

  • 11 December 2017

 

Selected poems

 

 

We are as leaves

We are

As leaves

In flowing water

 

Compost

Given

Reprieve

 

 

The black cockatoos

You sat

In the young forest

Of eucalypts

And slowly emptied out

Sandstone boulders breathing

With the setting sun

 

You heard them first

Calling, some distance off

Prying at the veil as they do

Peeling boards from the floor

 

And then you saw

Moving in slow motion

A gang of rowdy thieves

Lifting your grip

On the concreteness of it all

 

Black against the sky

Shadows cast by shadows

From the other side

Waking you to the bigger dream

 

 

The wind

The wind

Taps me on the shoulder

Like an old friend

Gesturing towards the natural world

 

 

Shit and bliss

You were writing

And needed to shit

 

Your heart was full to overflowing

With the first whispers of spring

The bees, the birds, the blossoms

 

Passing by the old tree

You looked up

To the hills

To the West

To see

 

Two eagles hunting, circling, soaring

And you stopped

And you wept with joy

 

And then you went

And took that shit

 

 

The stone Buddha

The stone Buddha

Is wearing his water coat

Over mossy tan

This morning

 

 

On poetry #5 

The words are wings

To the lost one

Inspired to flap

Destined to glide

Perhaps even soar

 

He starts

In a darker place

Unfamiliar, haunted?

Each step an act of faith

A prayer in search of ground

 

The words are little gods

Morsels of will

Carrying contracts

Seeking signatures

Or partners in crime

 

He longs to belong

Follows the scent of bosom

A place to call home

Each breath announcing quietly

I am here

 

The words are orphans

Disconnected and afraid

Each alone defiant

Each a snarl of instinct

No possessions, other than being itself

 

The words are wings

To the lost one

Inclined to flap

Destined to glide

Perhaps even soar

 

 

Sharpen your ears to soul 

Sharpen your ears to soul

And hear

God dropping pins

Like tropical rain

Torrential

 

 

Sing me your song

There is no escaping it

You'll be mud before long

So spare me your theories

And sing me your song

 

 

Flesh

Flesh is both doorway and boundary

Mind the hall of mirrors

Time a way to hold infinity

Peace: death with a view.

 

 

Letting God listen 

Some distance from the crowds

Amongst yesterday's containers

You found solace

In a darkened place

 

Far from the gaze of

Mummy and Daddy and

Far from the pulse of progress

You gave away your weight

 

On an upturned apple box

By a stained brick wall

You came to rest

You closed your eyes

 

And your prayer was to be

In unremarkable silence

In this unremarkable place

Letting God listen

To your listening

 

 

Sean O'Carroll lives in Melbourne, Australia. He works a psychotherapist and academic. His research and writing are driven by a keen interest in the relationship between human psychology and the natural world. Lucid Nature is his first book of poetry.