Gedicht
Martin Harrison
Songs and Verses
Songs and Verses
Songs and Verses
The white table, the white chairs,there under the casuarinas —
flies circle it, buzzing, zig-zagging:
the eye’s blood-red cotton vein.
*
Back there, a small room’s packed up life:
silence reigns in this house. Street-sounds
wash in like ripples, lapping a fallen log.
Beyond them, tree-clouded lakes murmur.
*
We are on a journey,
a journey which is ours,
made of figurative moves
asking who made so many souls.
The journey goes on,
though you and I stay still:
mosquitoes swarm the dried-up creeks,
ghostly herons stalk bronze reeds.
*
Here a grub hammers away
at its world of sky and wood:
there’s day sheen, there’s day glimmer,
while warm gusts glint on bark.
© 1993, Martin Harrison
From: The Distribution of Voice
Publisher: University of Queensland Press, St Lucia
From: The Distribution of Voice
Publisher: University of Queensland Press, St Lucia
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Songs and Verses
The white table, the white chairs,there under the casuarinas —
flies circle it, buzzing, zig-zagging:
the eye’s blood-red cotton vein.
*
Back there, a small room’s packed up life:
silence reigns in this house. Street-sounds
wash in like ripples, lapping a fallen log.
Beyond them, tree-clouded lakes murmur.
*
We are on a journey,
a journey which is ours,
made of figurative moves
asking who made so many souls.
The journey goes on,
though you and I stay still:
mosquitoes swarm the dried-up creeks,
ghostly herons stalk bronze reeds.
*
Here a grub hammers away
at its world of sky and wood:
there’s day sheen, there’s day glimmer,
while warm gusts glint on bark.
From: The Distribution of Voice
Songs and Verses
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