Banksia Poems | Examples


Premium Member Into the Ultramarine


"Into the Ultramarine"


barefoot along the path down to the beach
the memories follow me like seagulls
either side the honour guard of scarlet coastal banksia
and the sharp green scent of Bribie Island pine 

wave over me 

The wide expanse of a life 
like the wild side foreshore
now vastly eroded, 
the space between, much shorter 

the tides in time 
have taken 
the sands further out
dissolving the childish past

past the dissolving 
further out 
the Ocean deep 
calls me further in

shedding skin 
like a Selkie 
diving head first
bare feet the body slippery
 
into the Ultramarine

the Ultramarine 
like a possessive lover
takes me



Candide Diderot. ‘24

Premium Member Pressed Flowers

You come back
with your mind
full of treasures.
Today, there was a leaf 
plucked from a tree still coated
in whispers, a shard of sunlight
and a bird call you managed
to extricate from the sticky
strands of a banksia.

Yesterday there were
shadows rolled up 
like rubber matts,
a butterfly wing
and the crystallized tears 
of a child who was weeping
for the moon.

What will they do
with the pickings
you've piled up over years.
Will they empty 
all the boxes
and throw away the dried
remnants of a life
kept between the pages
like pressed flowers.
And who will return 
the tears shed 
for the moon.

Premium Member Ode To Banksia Floribunda

What is this flower perched like bird on stem
With tiny feathery florets in pews
Aligned along rows on cylinder heads?
Tis Banksia, native of Australia.

Named after botanist Sir Joseph Banks,
Who sailed on "Endeavour" with Captain Cook
To unearth Australia, the Great South Land
With shores bedecked with Banksia flowers.

Not a rose with its gaudy petal flush
Nor a daffodil or iris pendants
Nor ring of daisy petals stuck to sun
But hundreds of small flowers pinned on heads

Plethora of colors, earthy and rare
Red, yellow, brown, cream, white and orange hues
The colors of dawn and dusk and the moon
The colors of soil in the dry parched land.

Flower candles on candelabra bush
Arise like flames from sharp serrated leaves
Lighting the Australian bush with color
A pleasure, joy, delight to see in bloom

Enjoy Banksia flowers in gardens
As picked in vase they look so out of place.
Better still, see them in their native scrub
Outback of Dwellingup and way beyond.


Premium Member My City

From Banksia Grove to Alfred Cove
There are lovely sights to see
Sorrento Quay is on the way
To where my children love to play
Elizabeth Quay is a brand new place
That puts a smile upon my face
Oh Perth is such a lovely place to be
South West Australia is for me
Then Midland lies there in the East
And Fremantle lies in the West
But every part of our grand city
To me, she is the best

Bushfire Above Labertouche

Thunder rolls in the distance, lightning jags across the sky,
all around the heavens are angry … a fiery strike becomes the eye.
 
With little rain, and tinder forest, flame reaches out for what is near,
rising through gum and wattle, as undergrowths all disappear,
hell rises up to the heavens; fear on four legs run or die,
sparkling ash swirls to the forefront; smoke quickly fills up the sky.
The roar is a warning to all. Don't hesitate! Run, crawl or fly -
When confusion has ended; destruction and shattered there lie
leaving all eerie; blackened! Scarred! A lifeless bleak charcoal waste,
with layered ash casing the soil. Each living soul has been displaced …

Listen! … The birds are returning. New green appears on blackened tree.
The forest floor is changing; sweet new growth swarms abundantly,
There's movement ahead in the distance - returning is the kangaroo!
Where lush picking is for the taking, as this forest returns anew …
The circle of life is completed. Banksia, grass tree will soon return.
Clematis and orchids will show their heads ... 
… and thrive ‘til the forest - is once again ready to burn.

Lyrebird

I passed by Old Man Banksia, a wonderfully gnarled tree,
While trekking through the Jamison, a bushland pedigree,
I saw the broad leaf of the Geebung, with its yelow frill,
The distant sounds of Katoomba Falls with its water spill.

Suddenly excitement grew, new noise, a whipping sound,
Its shrilled call pierced the air, the unbelievable was found,
A lyrebird with all its beauty, elusiveness personified,
Stood before me tail flared,my mouth was open wide.

It was clawing in the leaf litter, with insects being found,
Its ornate, opaque tail swished on to the ground,
It hopped around in the mulch, paused then moved on,
I was waiting in anticipation for another whipping song.

My encounter was a brief one, for as soon as I got near,
It decided to fossick elsewhere without the risk of fear,
But I had seen this ancient animal with vocal chords unique,
The world's greatest mimic, its repertoire so complete.


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