Red Moon at Night

 There was a Red Moon tonight over Paradise.

Of course I didn't take a picture. 

A. I have always had dodgy eyesight, so it was enough to attempt to see something, let alone capture it in a meaningful way to make it recognisable in the future. My clay is words. My sense is ears.

B. I have been surrounded by visual people who delight in the art of photography. There is no need for me to swell their ranks.

You will just have to imagine the tiny porch on the top of the stairs, wind howling, Paris beside you and a starry sky to the South Eastish direction.

It is hard to tell if the misty blur across the bottom third of the moon were cloud, eclipse or the natural sheen of distance.

The sky behind is reflecting the lights around - tiny bulbs spray the wall of a neighbour and the street lights near the intersection.

Night birds know there is something up and are voicing the rejoicing of the dark red hue anticipated.

Image - not a picture of the scene described above, rather a very uncurated look for the sunroom - its natural state for the majority of the nearly two decades we have lived here

Edit - oh, and Eddie. RIP beautiful boy

Oh, and if you zoom in to the second window, there are two beautiful creatures and their humans 

The Sun Room

 

Image: Sunset in Paradise 

As GZ often laments, Blogger has a habit of reversing your pictures (probably inherited from Word - an obscure admin geek joke - never mind) - I'll just have to work with what I've got.

Image: Rain Scene in Paradise 

For nearly 20 years I have paced this Sun Room, posing theories, created poetry and watched the world.

Image: Kangaroos Grazing in Paradise 

I have seen through it in love, in baby haze, in disasters, in the pandemic.

Image: Just One of Those Days in Paradise

In an earlier lifetime, it was the windswept open deck of what my father called The Retreat.

Image: Void Kitten in Paradise 

We have watched little ones grow out to almost full-size

Image: Red Sky in Paradise 

There have been times that I have been lost for words,

Image: Sunset Streaking Across the Sky in Paradise 

sometimes too many words that couldn't quite grasp,

Image: Kangaroos Enjoying the Afternoon in Paradise

And sometimes just too lifed out to pay enough attention.

Image: One Bombproof (but unfortunately not ant-proof) Mailbox in Paradise 

But this lofty view on life has a timeframe.

Image: Clouds Over Ocean in Paradise 

All sorts of dates happen in the next 10 days and the next few weeks and months.

Image: Dusk in Paradise 

Sunday selections

River is my main connection to Sunday selections - as usual very ordinary pics with a waffle of words on offer here.

Picture of a piece of timber at my parents place with many extended family brands - Dad is third generation Australian and basically over 90% of his heritage is agriculture and livestock.

I did a search but apparently I have only done one real branding post (way back in May 2007) - and earlier in the week Ms Moon confounded me by having to Google what Marks and Brands were.

Isn't it weird, what one person grows up knowing innately and other never encounter?

We were in the saddle before we could ride bikes, learned how to drive before we hit high school and got paid in child labour by getting a calf branded for us each season.

I always chose the prettiest one for mine. We were only ever allowed to choose steers and only from commercial paddocks but that was preferred anyway as they were often the prettiest in my eyes - brindle or spotted with a twinkle of non-conformity in their eyes.

Image of a magnificent silver-leafed Ironbark (I think) on a Queensland country road

I have just come back from a trip out to visit Mum and Dad - 'Salina was with me. We always drive past this tree and made the decision to stop on our way home today. This isn't even her best angle but it was raining and the side of the road not conducive to more than a cursory click. That and the rather ordinary photographer on this side of the phone.

Image of proteas from a friend's garden delivered for Mum while I was there 

Yes- even though I am not the level of nearly blind that I was using as an excuse prior to cataract surgery, my skills as a photographer didn't get any better!

Poetry society

It was wear a jersey to work today (to support your favourite team #) but I forgot. When reminded I explained that I would be wearing what I had on to poetry tonight which is sort of a sport, isn't it?

The first poet's night of the year was held this evening.

'Salina and I attended.

The regular hostess is taking a few months off because baby (π) so instead we had the awesome pairing of compere J---y and softly spoken Z.

First was the lady from the potter's guild with an invitation to offer artistic inspiration

Then G with an apologetic recitation of witty brilliance aired before. (§)

Y had found a very gentle and calming recitation she sourced from a play.

K spoke of death and the beauty surrounding it.

(¥)

I can't remember if next but a first time reader was in the next few and oh, a funny and punchy poem regarding NDIS.

(∆)

Oh that's right, the amazing and brilliant T was next with her Mistake poem, and it was a ripsnorter. We all went on her journey and recognised the landmarks.

R in his beaten up hat was in there too with a charming poem about a housemaid and a jackeroo, a fishing yarn and a bikini.

I had edited a version of Morass Mess and a very old poem of mine (about 1993) Lament for Lost Chance at the Last One Night Stand.

I must do that one for you one day.

I can't remember the order of the ones after - I think j did one about yoga - a very funny rhyme - and a beautiful one in honour of her Mum, passed on 31 years ago this month.

D did a marvellous Cat poem. There was also a God one not sure if in this set or next.

D (D's partner) had us up a mountain.

We went on a nostalgic trip to grandparents during summer as well.

I am not sure if that is all before the break.

After the break was a few new performers and a few of the first round also had another turn.

New girl with another brilliant poem about recovery, U had a couple of turns with soft lilting charms, J honoured Banjo Paterson's A Bush Christening (~) - and a T recited the words for Five Years by David Bowie (+)

I got to finish the night so I did a new one - Sounds a Bit Like a Country Song - and a relatively old one - Bottling Kisses (%)

Footnotes

¥ Yes, it got a little heavy

∆ One thing about a room full of poets is odds on the majority of us got our social skills from the back of a cereal packet if we were lucky and had the 3.95 postage and handling.

That and working in finance. Or with computers.

Anyhow. That's an aside. (Or rather, a footnote)

% I went to see where I need to link so you can see Bottling Kisses but you can't because apparently I have never shared it before.

$ We might have bought the citrus house 

# as this weekend is opening in Vegas for the NRL - N at work is a bleeds maroon Broncos supporter

π I get it - although sometimes it takes nearly two decades

§ Nobody should ever apologise for working on your favourites. Seeing performers get into their work is part of the process of poetry for me

~ A favourite of Dad's to recite.

+ When I mentioned that to V he knew the song immediately and stayed while I looked it up for the link

Morass Mess

 Don't go out there tonight.

Don't go wandering into the cesspit that is

The multi-fonted opinions of others 

You cannot hear your own thoughts let alone voice them

Without being over typed and whited out

Control.

Alt.

Delete.

How easy to become pixilated with distress 

At the mess

Of the world 

Through this Lens.

We need to stop.

Step away.

It is so convenient,

Nestled there in our hands 

Offering an

Avenue to

The outside -

But it tricks 

It slithers our minds into 

Places that grasp the eye

And mesmerise.

The magic a sleight of content 

Designed to drown distrust no matter

What flavour discontent we drink.

It holds the door firmly shut

Every service 

Every transaction 

Every interaction in life

A tendril holding us in its embrace.

I remember records playing 

Books read 

Recipes torn from magazines 

Dinner guests 

Playgrounds and pizza parties and

People mingling with people 

I also remember watching others 

Interacting 

On the outside holding platters 

Or giving readings

Or being listener

Ears alert 

Eyes focused yet

Behind 

yet behind 

portrait painting poetry the scene from afar.

Perhaps it is not the phone mine own enemy

but a new frame for an old, old pose.

Stay within tonight.

Stay here and stay safe from the them and their hum 

Humour me

Put it down.

And escape.