The canal poked like a finger
into the wrinkled abdomen
of the Port. Along its length,
ketches once bruised
wooden wharves unloading wheat
shipped from outports across the gulf.
Pigeons stalked the spill of grain
from hessian bags torn
by wharfies hooks. Port Adelaide’s
pigeons were kept well fed.
I can remember being harnessed
to a pole and taught to swim
in the cold, dark waters of the canal.
I thrashed and kicked but could not float.
I did not have my fathers dolphin grace
whose aquatic triumphs were engraved
on a silver trophy that stood proud
atop a fireplace shelf.
In its final days the canal slowed
to a halt. Wharves were empty
and gave way to rot. In the end,
dump trucks cascaded fill down
embankments until it choked.
A car park now seals its grave
where plastic bags sail endlessly
across an asphalt lake.
A shopping precinct recalls its name
in gaudy signage.
Memory still has me dangling
on the end of a pole, flailing arms
desperately searching for something
solid to hold, suspended
like a lead weight
above a cold abyss.
Categories:
wharfies, father, memory, water,
Form: Free verse
I glide along
Black river
In that hour
Before the morning dawn
To meander
The maze
And gaze
Upon
Stumbling walks
Silent
Long grass stalks
A vision
Two universe
That merge
And swell
Yet
Continue on
Disrupted
As this
Is how it is
Here
In this city
Between
Desert
And sea
I find
Myself
Out
On the East Arm
Enjoying
Kaleidoscope
Reflections
Of city
And industry lights
On a
Blue Gray sea
Tis here
That dwell
Dragon Lady
Come Hell
And high sea
Strikes fear
Into sailor
And wharfies
That happen to be
Cut you
In two
With a glance
As Talons sink in
Wounded chest
Of masculine
But stupidity
Is his
I look down
At the outgoing tide
And realize
That arrow
Had fallen
Fell away
Like a
Hand let go
Set
Free
Categories:
wharfies, appreciation, beautiful, celebration,
Form: Free verse