MARCH 17 2011 : "On such a day each road is planned To lead to some enchanted land; Each turning meets expectancy. The signs I read on every hand. I know by autumn’s wizardry On such a day the world can be Only a great glad dream for me. Only a great glad dream for me!" Eleanor Myers Jewett, An Autumn Day.

http://www.egreenway.com/months/autumn.htm

WINDSOR 042

CHROMO

This old river town saw the
Early steamboats.
The line of wharf and houses is a faded chromo.
It is bleached and bitten standing
To steady the sunrises.

Carl Sandburg, Honey and Salt

http://www.siue.edu/OSME/river/RiverQuotes/RiverQ.htm

foto –  colonial cottage in windsor nsw

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MARCH 16 2011: Fallen leaves on the current scarcely move. But the azure kingfisher flashes upriver still. Poems written in age confuse the years. We all live, said Basho, in a phantom dwelling. Judith Wright.

The Shadow of Fire’

http://ninglundecember.wordpress.com/2008/04/25/australian-poem-2008-series-12-judith-wright-recycled-for-anzac-day/

WINDSOR 001

And slow things are beautiful:
The closing of a day,
The pause of the wave
That curves downward to spray,
The ember that crumbles,
The opening flower,
And the ox that moves on
In the quiet of power.

Elizabeth Coatsworth

http://www.siue.edu/OSME/river/RiverQuotes/RiverQ.htm

foto – the hawkesbury river at windsor where my ancestors worked in old government house as convicts march 2010

MARCH 15 2010: "Time will show as the Lobster said when they assured him he would become red if he fell into the boiler." Edward Lear. English (1812-1888)

http://www.foodreference.com/html/qlobster.html

DSCF4469

ROBERT GRAY.

 

Journey: the North Coast

Next thing, I wake up in a swaying bunk.
as though on board a clipper
lying in the sea,
and it’s the train, that booms and cracks,
it tears the wind apart.
Now the man’s gone
who had the bunk below me. I swing out,
cover his bed and rattle up the sash—
there’s sunlight rotating
off the drab carpet. And the water sways
solidly in its silver basin, so cold
it joins together through my hand.
I see from where I’m bent
One of those bright crockery days
that belong to so much I remember.
The train’s shadow, like a bird’s,
flees on the blue and silver paddocks,
over fences that look split from stone,
and banks of fern,
a red clay bank, full of roots,
over a dark creek, with logs and leaves suspended,
and blackened tree trunks.
Down these slopes move, as a nude descends a staircase,
slender white gum trees,
and now the country bursts open on the sea—
across a calico beach, unfurling;
strewn with flakes of light
that make the whole compartment whirl.
Shuttering shadows. I rise into the mirror
rested. I’ll leave my hair
ruffled a bit that way—fold the pyjamas,
stow the book and wash bag. Everything done,
press down the latches into the case,
that for twelve months I’ve watched standing out
of a morning, above the wardrobe
in a furnished room.

(Gray 1998 )

foto – nambucca heads mosaic 2010

MARCH 14 2011: Mookari, Old Man , the name for Real big rain. Looks like the old Man is going now but He’ll be back again. Dan Davis, Queensland.

http://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/arts/aboriginal-poems/mookari_aboriginal-poems.html

RED UMBRELLA

 

If you let this fella carry your umbrella

I promise you a life of bliss

BILLY CONNOLLY

LITTLE BLUE LADY.

foto – walking by the tweed river in march of 2006

MARCH 13 2011: The living cannot call the dead collect: They won’t accept the charge, and it reverts.

“Because” by James McAuley

http://ninglun.wordpress.com/2007/10/19/friday-australian-poem-11-because-by-james-mcauley/

STEPPING BLOCKS BILAMBIL 2007 MARCH

Remember that you have only one soul; that you have only one death to die; that you have only one life. … If you do this, there will be many things about which you care nothing.

St. Teresa of Avila

(1515-1582) nun, writer, and mystic

 

http://www.quotes-proverbs.com/t.htm

foto – garden at bilambil cottage in the autumn of 2006

MARCH 12 2011: I am a child of the Dreamtime People Part of this Land, like the gnarled gumtree I am the river, softly singing Chanting our songs on my way to the sea My spirit is the dust-devils Mirages, that dance on the plain.

Yorta Yorta woman Hyllus Maris (1934-86)

http://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/spirituality/

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

And my body’s moving wild

thoughts shoot through my mind

like electric impulses do

my arms flick around

and paint strange patterns into the air

the feet hardly touch the ground

I’m one with the melody

I am the melody

yet the lyrics read”Help”.

© by Jens-Uwe Korff

http://www.creativespirits.info/lyrics/tears/dancing.html

foto – bilambil blues club 2007 march

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