Bora born
The pen moves on _
Oh! what a place
downtown cairns on a potent afternoon.
His cafe of choice at the Art Gallery
open to the birds and afternoon sun
throws patterns of dappled shadows
across the bench where he sits.
Flakes of troubled light chase each other
across the page
as the pen moves on.
He can smell you Trinity, the inlet
off to the right.
Salt air loads the scented breeze
with a seasonal message.
He listens as it wafts around their bodies
chasing tassels of hair across his face
and a whisper in his ear.
Truck bodies
fast light tight bodies move
past the big apple
over the road.
Cheap mail, internet outpost.
The whole world moves through here
he reflects, as the pen moves on.
‘How are you today,' she asks
as the kleenex wipes to the left
of where he sits.
The girl of frangipanni light
moves by. She works here
the aura to be seen at night.
Then the crash.
The noise of dead silence as time slowed.
Oh God! ever seen, ‘ Meeting Joe Black ‘
He was here before their eyes
cartwheeling through the air
end over end, arms spread eagled.
Head first into the road
then still, with right leg twitching
as the pen moves on.
‘He's dead,' he calls out
as he landed in a coma position.
‘I'm gonna be sick,' cries another
The bike written off into the front of the Camry.
Head on, oh shoot.
People race in
mobiles go crazy.
they nearly caught him before he lands.
‘Don't move him,' the shout
as authority moves closer
Just leave him alone
as they wait for the help
while the pen moves on.
Five work on him
Head straight, she talks to him
paramedics now work on the legs.
Why do they always
want to get up from the stretcher.
A nation of idiots, guides the way as
the driver stands by with
blue lights in his head
as the pen moves on.
- O -
 
© Oct 2004 _ Nhawrr yirrpa
downtown cairns on a potent afternoon.
His cafe of choice at the Art Gallery
open to the birds and afternoon sun
throws patterns of dappled shadows
across the bench where he sits.
Flakes of troubled light chase each other
across the page
as the pen moves on.
He can smell you Trinity, the inlet
off to the right.
Salt air loads the scented breeze
with a seasonal message.
He listens as it wafts around their bodies
chasing tassels of hair across his face
and a whisper in his ear.
Truck bodies
fast light tight bodies move
past the big apple
over the road.
Cheap mail, internet outpost.
The whole world moves through here
he reflects, as the pen moves on.
‘How are you today,' she asks
as the kleenex wipes to the left
of where he sits.
The girl of frangipanni light
moves by. She works here
the aura to be seen at night.
Then the crash.
The noise of dead silence as time slowed.
Oh God! ever seen, ‘ Meeting Joe Black ‘
He was here before their eyes
cartwheeling through the air
end over end, arms spread eagled.
Head first into the road
then still, with right leg twitching
as the pen moves on.
‘He's dead,' he calls out
as he landed in a coma position.
‘I'm gonna be sick,' cries another
The bike written off into the front of the Camry.
Head on, oh shoot.
People race in
mobiles go crazy.
they nearly caught him before he lands.
‘Don't move him,' the shout
as authority moves closer
Just leave him alone
as they wait for the help
while the pen moves on.
Five work on him
Head straight, she talks to him
paramedics now work on the legs.
Why do they always
want to get up from the stretcher.
A nation of idiots, guides the way as
the driver stands by with
blue lights in his head
as the pen moves on.
- O -
 
© Oct 2004 _ Nhawrr yirrpa
Comment On This Poem ---
The pen moves on _
The pen moves on _