Long Dreamtime Poems
Long Dreamtime Poems. Below are the most popular long Dreamtime by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dreamtime poems by poem length and keyword.
"Black Cockatoo"
I was white
as pure snow cotton
thread through the eye of God's needle
Black
he was,
not Egyptian, more ancient
he walked
in the Dreamtime
with the forgotten people
obsidian
We swam the
well known swan song
like a diamond river snake long
Swimming naked in a billabong
Light I was, white watching black
He shone, glistening a white freshwater pearl smile
He wrote the song
in Ochre, eyes black ink
slow lines feather light fingers along
the curves of my body
powder white
painted against his shadow
our hands
entwined together
against a grey granite wall
native bush plum ripe
on my raised lips
I stroked white lines
against his walk about hot fire opal skin
lost in the Dreamtime
somewhere found
metronoming
black fingers
stroking a ghost white heart
language running lost in meaning
along a lush sweet breast those fingers ran
towards the long legged
cross road torn apart
emu running
evoking
bushfire burning
lizard tale fingers shorthand painting
scorching the place where
the creek born runs
spits paint all over
charcoal stone heart
a wall beckons
a throat to flow like a river
where the words are trapped
and damned,
he stands
I have delivered
the ransom
caged minds in silence
speak and glow
hard lips kiss
Tongues speak
Love knows
Black Cockatoo Sings
White girl
walking Black Mountain
lost in the Never Return
In the Demons' Land
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2020)
There are times when the spirit just needs a decent rest;
the grinding of a city’s wheel upon the soul, leaves
dusty debris in its wake. Peace of mind seems elusive
at that point. I seek the solace that is nature.
nature has her way
of soothing the soul
serenity trails
Just one tranquil hike along the lakeshore, listening to the
birds upon the boughs, the trickle of traveling waters and
harmonic bliss has reduced the blare of horns to sweet music.
a croaking frog
sits by the lake
wildflowers
Night sounds sing me to sleep beneath crystalline stars;
a shimmering sky overhead plays out its night scenes across the
stage of the dreamtime. Nature’s children are safe in their slumber; nocturnal ramblings build their memories.
oak and ash
are safe havens
hardwood homes
Peace is every single step when you are in harmony with Gaia. Down that wooded path lay the passionate play of Elysian existence. I come here to find me.
3-11-2020
STRAND CHOICE C,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
For weeks
I have been followed,
they mirror
my every move …
and now
I’m dreaming them
they drifted in
and separated me
from my bed,
whisking me from my sheets
they fly me,
to curl the other place
soaring on dreams
brushing just enough to touch,
my feet stroll medieval turrets
and like walking ripples
across a lake, I glide
I swept my hand through stars
that floated in fingers of memory
all held,
in a gondola of wings
(dragonflies,
big as dragons)
they call me in wimples
serenade me to cathedrals
within canopy’s of weeping willows,
I am gobsmacked
in their phantasmic enchantments
that undulate vapoured mist,
with feeling
(I’m mesmerized
and burning)
as I,
sucked into vortexes of spinning visions,
and splayed out on magenta clouds,
leaning over
I tore it off,
like cotton balls
and floated it to play
on whiskers of wind
and when sliding over
this light phantastic,
winged cavaliers cradle me
and feather me back to earth …
I awoke to curtains
dancing through mosaics of light,
transforming to spread wings
and lay lace wreaths
over the arms of time
but in the reality of dimension,
in the unknown that is the surreal
swaddled in the wings of a dragonfly,
I’m whispering sleep
to the Dreamtime
"Whoever in writing a modern history, shall follow truth too near the heels, it may haply strike out his teeth" Walter Raleigh's preface to his 1614 'History of the World'
We had all been told via emergency transmission (how annoying is that intro alarm!) to drop everything and get in the busses that were arriving on the street. Already weak from months of food, fuel and other shortages, compliance was a forgone result. Exiting our homes was shocking, no one could prepare themselves to see such abhorrent desolation everywhere taken place since lockdowns had begun weeks earlier. Many had already died gruesome, asphyxiating deaths, those of us left had no choice but to submit. Trust? that became a non-factor long ago... resistance was futile, massive UN troop deployments had secured all major cities, with avenues of escape futile. Enormous military and civil equipment and resources had already destroyed and cleared large swaths of territory, seemingly funnelling humans towards most-likely, extinction. What everyone thought were life saving vaccines actually were injections of 'striker-cells' targeting our respiratory and immune systems. Aboard the busses, rumors were, aliens had orchestrated this entirely, intent on occupying our oxygen-rich planet for their own purposes...my conclusion...
we were screwed
for Kungkarangkalpa
Sisters, scattered starlight,
Songline stretching sunward,
Stalking, tireless shadow,
Sudden leap, skyward bound,
Stars, seven silver flames,
Silence, seventh, hidden,
Still they rise, slow and bright.
Note:
Kungkarangkalpa, the Seven Sisters Dreaming, is one of the oldest and most widely shared creation stories among Aboriginal Australian peoples — its songline (a sacred storyline tied to the land) stretches across more than half the Australian continent. It tells of seven ancestral sisters fleeing an unwelcome suitor across the desert; to escape him, they leap into the night sky, becoming the star cluster known in Western astronomy as the Pleiades. Their pursuer follows and becomes the stars of Orion — which is why, each night, Orion appears to chase the Seven Sisters across the sky. Traditionally only six stars are visible to the naked eye, and many tellings — from this Aboriginal songline to Greek and Lakota myth — explain the mystery of the hidden seventh sister. This poem is written in tribute to that story, and is dedicated with respect to the Anangu Pitjantjatjara Yankunytjatjara people, the traditional custodians of the Kungkarangkalpa songline.
Many place names in Australia reek of notoriety and oppression
Where massacres took place, involved first nation native population,
men, women and children, demonstrates gross inhumane expression
Many of these place names remain, Bones Knob, Murderers Flat, Skull Creek
are mapped in a university publication
The area where my family resided
may similarly have followed, same infamous identification
My paternal Scottish ancestors, original settlers on our family farm from eighteen sixties,
a time of many massacres
With axes sweat and labour cleared the timber, populated the land with sheep
Were they involved in a massacre? And if so, my father, was it a secret he did keep ?
Existing on the nearest road a signpost declaring Butchers Ridge
only a couple of hundred metres from the old original family home
Allegedly named after a horse called Butcher
far and wide he purportedly did roam
When I was young, the story I was told about this horse
he repeatedly escaped from his owners farm, crossed a bridge
Was always discovered on a sloping piece of land,
hence the area was given the name of Butchers Ridge
A different story of the naming of this area which makes more sense
was revealed by mother after father passed away
A massacre took place giving this area its name, about which my father never spoke
did my father bear inherited shame ? It's history now no one can really say
One full moonlit night, around the time of one unable to sleep
decided to arise, some teenage pleasure I would seek
Go fishing catch a big bag of speckled brown trout
from the stream there known as Butchers Creek
Halfway between the house and my intended destination
an eerie whooshing sound right above my head
Look up !! Nothing visible on this very still clear night
Very quickly reverse my fishing decision !!! Hastily run back to the safety of my bed !!!
I have spoken to several first nation dreamtime elders about this weird eerie sound
i experienced on that distant fishing full moonlit night
They say its first nation native spirits venting anger
thus responsible for my fear. I think they may be right
Garden perfume
Plumeria fragrance;
Touch of good earth
~~~~~~~~~
Reading TS Eliot
Difficult transitions;
Brilliant mad man
~~~~~~~~~
Look beyond stuff
Enough is enough;
Turn within
~~~~~~~~~
Explore now
East and West;
Worldly pursuits
~~~~~~~~~
Misty moon glow
Alone waiting;
Luna meditation
~~~~~~~~~
Evening car ride
Homebound thoughts;
City lights twinkle
~~~~~~~~~
Abrupt darkness
Spreads heavy blanket;
Dreamtime hovers
~~~~~~~~~
Here we are
Two sixty-year olds;
Still holding hands
~~~~~~~~~
Through glass windows
Floor to ceiling;
Awesome sights
~~~~~~~~~
Misty evening hues
After brief rain;
Blank dark canvas
~~~~~~~~~
Full moon tonight
Follows me as I stroll;
Mystic smile glows
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
03 July 2015
Singapore
Evening star
Blazing bright;
Light in the dark
~~~~~~~~~
Dizzy dreamtime
Falling over;
Sleepy smudges
~~~~~~~~~
Workday scents
Fast interlude;
Check-in buzz
~~~~~~~~~
Poison words
Killer sting;
Violent rampage
~~~~~~~~~
Farewell chime
No more time;
Fade away glitch
~~~~~~~~~
Walkway commotion
Fuss and furry;
Foolish banter
~~~~~~~~~
Mall excursion
Jungle laws revised;
Black Friday rush
~~~~~~~~~
Hurts hurl
Choice curls;
Exquisite menu
~~~~~~~~~
Family reunion
Big picture moments;
Alone together
~~~~~~~~~
Seize cheer
Soothe edgy nerves;
Tangled hurts
~~~~~~~~~
Assorted loves
Bright blossoms;
Floral arrangement
~~~~~~~~~
Words limping
Broken whole;
No much said
~~~~~~~~~
Moon glow sky
Blue aura tints:
Strange glimpse
~~~~~~~~~
Journey ends
Temple bells tint;
Thanksgiving pulse
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
27 November 2016
Singapore
Great country rich, land of my birth, that cradled my childhood and taught me of
Worth.'
Land of struggles, and dreamtime lore.'
A country of invention, and of weathers raw.'
Do we have an easy history.? I must answer no.' I owe us; that much at the
least.'
In my mix of emotions, i shall try to so'
Well, to put a relief of our history in this
I'll tell.'
Of a crowns avairice, of some humans in
Chains, others free agents who came to
Make gain'
They came to Australia..with expectations
And dreams, some of great horror' they did
Create scenes.'
Then there were the existing, the Aboriginal
Mobs, living for millenia with their corroberee councils..
Hunters and trackers, survivalists and they paid their costs, leaving newborn infants, in
The open to die.' If the extra life would be too much? This was a part of their bush lives; to oft..
Then there were the guvenors, and officers of the crown, instructed to tame the country.'
With their own views.' As they built the settlements, and kept their convicts
Down.'
There were lashings and hangings, And genocide too.' All tasmanian Native
Peoples wiped out..Its quite true.'the decades advanced..
( The boomerang factor )
From the past collision of cultures, a new country was emerging..Herb Elliot was to become a champion, Lionel Rose Evonne Goolagong,
Shane Gould..We were really flying.'
In the 1960s and 1970s there was an atmosphere of change and hope.' A wish
To be more unified, and a regret.' I tell
No jokes.. I ask all Aussies can we
Go back.? And fix the wrongs we did not
Do.'
Or do we move forward on Australia day.'
And all the days that follow too.? Can we
Be free of trauma.? Yet refer to lessons past.? I advise resume in the ' true blue spirit ' and give the world a blast.' Avoid the
Forigen influencers who want to rake dead
Coals..' Only to enslave us all..!!! Now
get up' be your best; be really bold.!!!
"Golden Tapestry"
One day, that San Francisco way
My, oh my, like a rushing waterfall
This hopeless heart did fall.
Tinkling chimes, clinking glasses, music from the East,
Like rushing romantic stanzas swept me off my dreamtime feet.
Some are impressed by great authors or thinkers.
Me...one minute glimpse of your eyes, mesmerizing, godlike winkers!
Will I ever be able to go just one day without thee?
You, the creator of our lives golden tapestry!
Nay, we live in a fragrant field of fairy dreams.
You, forever, my king divine, in our eternal, castle of rainbow schemes.
Play on, instruments of limitless love and light.
An honor to be so bound by love's delight.
Forever your~ Panagiota
April 18. 2020
2pm PST