PATERSON RIVER RISING

 

 

 

PATERSON RIVER RISING.

 

She is my river.

Not controlled.

Not tamed.

When will they learn she is nature.

Learn both her of her beauty and anger.

She is, and always will be.

Natures chaos in her best debutante dress.

 



MISTY MOUNTAINS

 

 

 

MISTY MOUNTAINS.

 

 

One does not just see the mist through the mountains.

One breathes it.

Feels the coolness upon the skin.

It penetrates the spirit within.

It carries you in flight into ones own self.

For a period you linger to discover your being.

Then disperse into the warmth you feel secure in.

Into the spirit of the Misty Mountains goes ones deepest thoughts.

 

 

 

 

 



EVENING AT PATERSON

 

 

EVENING AT PATERSON

 

Evening has past through Paterson.

The trees sigh lightly as the heat from the last rays of sunlight disappear.

A lone Plover stood in call to its mate, and upon its return took to wing in chase as if to chastise for its absents.

Egrets, as with the arrival at dawn, skimmed the ever changing  mirrored, shadowy river on return to roost.

Ducks had taken to flight, and flew in the direction of dawn to wait in anticipation of sunrise.

Lights on the horizon begin to appear giving some hint to civilisation.

All is grown silent from human encroachment.

 

The night comes alive.

Frogs begin to call, as do crickets.

A singular moth is drawn to the light through the kitchen window, and continues to brow-beat itself into insect counselling, in the fruitless attempt to die warm by the light that would be its killer.

 

 

There is nothing but ones soul now.

Yet there is everything.

From silhouettes of late birds in flight, to the stillness in the half darkness of the river that is still flowing with life.

To the stars that seem to beat in the night sky.

I feel I am home.

 

 



 

 

 

I STAND FOR NOW.

 

 

Upright.

Erect.

Without assistance.

There have been days of faulter.

Days of arising to the occasion and finding there is a stiffness where it should not be.

Or where one would hope it was.

 

I stand for now.

A lot better.

No longer afraid.

Embraced by death through the years.

Standing for now.

 

Did I stop for love?

 

OH YES.

I stumbled through it then.

I had a stiff upper lip when you were gone.

FOR GOOD.

And.

I became stiff without you.

 

I stand for now with a soft on of heart.

A stiffness of mind.

Yet as I age, a ache and stiffness.

It is yours.

Mine,

Others.

 

I

WE

Have stood.

Stand for now.



 

 

TIRED.

 

 

Yes I am tired.

Not sleepy.

Not in need of shut eye.

Not even from the toil of work.

Just tired of heart.

 

Blessed of life.

Cursed of loss.

 

You should be here.

You should be laughing with me.

With us, our friends.

You should be here in every line that we etch in our foreheads.

In every tooth missing and denture glued in.

You should  be here to bitch about it was happening to you.

The wrinkles.

The dentures.

Or at least gained another wrinkle from the laughter that it didn't happen to you but someone else.

Gee.

 how tired I am because of missing you.

How blessed of life of knowing you.

How cursed that we can not bitch together at someone else.

Each other.

And know of ageing.

Together.

SO TIRED.

I WALK NOT ALONE.

There is a memory in every footstep I have taken.

From my first interment encounter with a male.

My first indentation in the sticky carpet in the Star Hotel.

My first encounter with my brother Shane.

My first.

Life long journey into family.

I have set foot in the past.

Walked through a sunrise and sunset into an unknown future.

I have not done so without the indentations of my footsteps and others upon my heart.

AGAIN.

As I travel in the first footsteps of my time.

Our footsteps shall meet.

A nexus of novocastrains.

Walked not in others footsteps but our own.

Those that have past and those present by our side.

This is what......

Lost Gay Newcastle.

Means to me.



NOVOCASTRIAN GAY

There is nothing greater that binds us.

Makes us NOVOCASTRIAN GAYS.

The memories recalled are endless,

walked through every day.

Personal.

Group.

Community.

They are held within our hearts,

in the music, hairdo and fashion in its way.

The LOVE

The LAUGHTER

The LOSS.

The LIFE.

The NEXUS of the NOVOCASTRIAN GAY