creative writing.
Being a Melbournian, like many… in addition to having a coffee order with more than six syllables… I endured the ~joys~ of quite a few lockdwns in the event that chant be named.
During ‘lockd*wn numba five’ I discovered the beauty of the city’s botanic gardens.
I perched in a different themed garden each week for five weeks and penned creative pieces inspired by the vegetation and natural features of each location.
when a violent volcano erupts.
i never really cared for volcanos myself…
the moment when it all erupts around you
in a thick plume of smoke
streaks of charcoal filled embers
flattening everything in its path
crushing even the strongest structures
when a violent volcano erupts
you’ll be lucky, if you can kiss your mother goodbye
stomachs sink deeper than a scoria cone
bleed for longer than a river of lava oozing from the core
up
there is no way
there is no way out
when a violent volcano erupts
you can run as fast as you can
or stay to take the hit
but that volcano will catch you
and you best be ready for guilfoyle’s prickle
take the bite from the red cactus thorn
swallow your pride
and face the violent volcano eruption
finding the arid garden.
part I: the bloom of death
“many succulents are monocarpic”
mono = single
karpos = fruit
they flower and they die
what a sacrifice, what is it for?
when they commence reproduction
they direct their succulent energy
away from their own roots, leaves
they challenge their succulent energy
to the next generation
producing “plant pups”, “plantlets”
to guarantee the survival
of the next generation to come
it seems to me like the ultimate sacrifice
to live, to live, to die
the agave americana sits
on a rocky garden bed
aging like a tortoise
in the hot sunday sun
ready to hand over
a baton of life
to the next generation
ready to setup a sustainable future
for its turquoise succulent spawn
what could be more anthropological?
is this really an american aloe…
or an american human after-all?
if only we were all as benevolent
as this wise old cactus
i suppose there’s a lot to learn from
the agave americana
a turquoise succulent baking in the arid garden
under the sunday sun
waiting, for the bloom of death
part II: the queen of the night
“for some cacti flowering is a dangerous business”
you know, some cacti only flower at night
under the cover of darkness
for one night only
selenicereus grandifloras
is stealthy, swift, serene
if you want to catch her
you better be quick
or the ‘queen of the night’
will…
…slip
right through your grasp
it is rare to catch her
gracing the arid garden
with her musty scent
designed to attract
a powerful pollinator
even if it is just for one night
he wanders through the arid garden
with the taste of a sour vodka drink on his lips
looking for the right place to perch, admire
he turquoise ‘queen of the night’ cactus
corrected: cacti
selenicereus grandifloras
and her flower in all her glory
not knowing if he will be there
for one hour, one week, or one month
with legs numb on the pavement
he patiently waits for the first sight
of a grandifloras flower
to appear between the sharp cacti prickles
at night in the arid garden
a guide: how to survive a waterfall.
how to survive a waterfall: a guide
they say when it rains, it pours
well, i was caught in a bit of a current recently
a touch of precipitation
how can something so peaceful
be so destructive at the same time?
as I sit by a still pond
i reflect on what guided me back to the safety
of this mossy green rock
where i sit still and alone
perched like a swamp frog
waiting for his lunch
on a crisp, sweet apple instead I crunch
“like a single, double chromosome,” echoes through my mind
competing with a stream of rushing water -
the trick to surviving the downpour
is to take responsibility for your decisions in life
but don’t hold onto every single drop,
or you’ll drop dead just giving it a try
you can let the hard days wash right over you overnight
or they will throw you into the ground
with a waterfall you can always choose:
1. the monsoon in the middle
2. or the delicate spray flickering onto my face
“Stay close to your family,” and just
let
it
fall.
water will do what water does
it will flow where it flows
and hopefully it will help the rainforest grow tall and strong…
“you cannot control it all,” he said
and just maybe, you will emerge
from behind that curtain of water that today is all yours
a little bit happier than you were before the fall…
how to survive a waterfall: a guide
rainforest growth.
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
there is a quiet place to sit and admire
to breath in crisp, clean air without restraint
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
there is a place to lose myself in my once tangled mind
to find a path that’s finally clearer
for the first time in at least a year
and pair back twisted, overgrown vines in need of care
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
the only sound to hear
is a slow creek trickling through my ears
nothing thing to do, nowhere to be but here
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
i look up at a space between the canopy above
finally there’s a little clearing, with a little bit of sun
it’s peaking in and touching my dewy skin
a little gap in the rain, before it starts again
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
crisp raindrops falls on my defrosting face
thawing out in the humid air
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
i sit here alone
shrouded by the safety of my rainforest fern
in the middle of the C.B.D
and reflect on lessons learned
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
i trade grey concrete stumps
for tall timber and bark
a place to breathe
a place just for me
a place to find peace
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
i hear them say:
“it’s all good for the soul and mind you know”
“get out into the trees and watch them grow”
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
maybe some chemistry will emerge
from within these leaves in time?
there might be a bit more light to find
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
these trees are – there – for – me
when I’m in need
these trees have helped me breath
at a time when I began to choke
these trees have helped me sleep
when I thought I was going broke
these trees helped me find my voice
when I was drowning in silence
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
i now speak for the trees
and they speak for me
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
i hear them say
“you have to pay it forward”
“and keep going forward”
i guess, it’s kind of like the bees
and everything little thing that they gently touch
“you have to hope it at all grows back”
at least, half as much
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
i’m like the fern spiral sprouts
shooting up from the rainforest floor
regrowth is good for the rainforest
so I regrow a bit more
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
i hear her say:
“the rainforest can give us all the supplies”
-to build a home for you and me-
“but we won’t take too much”
“we’ll just take what we need”
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
i hear her say:
“if I have a house it will need a few trees?”
“not too far from work, can you make that work for me?”
under a fern
nestled in a tangled green rainforest
he says:
“yes, of course miss Bee”
x
a pink porcelain lady.
an elegant pink porcelain lady dances
on one leg in the middle of a pond
gracing the morning with a supple smile
since [1934]
she has stood stronger
sturdier than this man
lying with arms crossed
half alive on the cobble stone pavement
ready to join to the 27 club
as she balances just above the water
skin and all, in all her elegant glory
he muses amongst the pink petunias
“when will she crack”, if at all
against the beating weather
“never” the winder whispers
bending pink petunia stalks
she stands for:
- love
- light
- strength
- pleasure
- pain
- those who can’t stand
- for themselves -
- mother nature
- bringing new life
- stark outer beauty
- soft inner beauty
she stands as pink petunias bend in the wind
behind a pink cherry blossom tree
- she stands for equality
in the middle of a bustling city
she balances in a quiet garden
hidden by a horseshoe of green hedges
between pink petunia florets
and tiny cherry blossom litter
on one leg in the middle of a pond
gracing the morning with a supple smile
he smiles back
because just like the pink petunias that trace
the garden of the pink porcelain lady
he has grown.