Marina, Motherina, Baba, Mum!
Reflect upon what your life has become:
Born in Harbin to refugee Russians,
Tossed out by Mao, with mild repercussions.
Aussie girl, country girl, raised by grandmas,
And grandpa and parents (both pains in her ****).
Small school, to high school with penguin-ed nuns,
Bespeckled and bikeless - childhood is done!
Went off to college at Melbourne Uni,
Made friends, stole a goat and earned a degree.
Entered the workforce for airliner doomed,
Later a teaching position assumed.
Married a beardy fresh in from Hungry
(also a Russian circuitously)...
Moved to the suburbs - East of the border,
Had a few children (not in that order).
Two in-laws out back, who helped with offspring,
Replaced by her mum, who started writing.
Son and two daughters, she raised to adult,
Some better than others - not all her fault.
Each offspring took flight, with their other half.
All but the youngest, who forged her own path.
Some grandkids were born, they grew up a bit,
Throw in some church stuff and that's about it.
His hands are worn smooth
they work in the soft ether of his thoughts,
only two fingertips
plunge to earth and peck
at a world he hardly knows.
His poetry is sea soaked and spattered
with English fishing villages
where he first learned
to interpret waves and the collected works
of kelp and rockpools.
As he grows older
he explores places he has never set foot upon,
Ulan Batur, Vladivostok, Harbin,
these are grey places that bloom
in summer when fur hats are taken off.
He was born in a grey ghetto
and knows the power of cherry blossoms.
He believes in spirit animals,
prays to owls
whenever a death wish visits him.
No doubt he was born into
the wrong time, but he makes the best
of all places that have survived,
He has come to terms
with situation and circumstance,
though humankind never fails
to disappoint.
Curiosity prevails though,
he still visits without invitation,
takes notes, and sneaks in
wherever a window opens.