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March, 2004 ~ Kathy Earsman ~  This month I was delighted to present the work of Kathy Earsman, another talented Australian poet. Her poetry comes alive with vigor, compassion and unforgettable imagery. There is also a poem by her beloved late husband, Peter. Hidden Things This morning's rosy dawn has warmed the sand, a sea-bird holds the air; its feathers blush with sky. Cool tones fold into warmth, it lands where lilac ripples underlie the rush of gentle surges on the shore. The tide is out. The beach is hushed, a little boat lies nodding, bobbing, sleeping on its side. A filigree of lacey bubbles floats a moment, then is gone. The sea-bird strikes down viciously -- it knows where molluscs live: their tiny breaths betray them. Now he spikes them in his bill. He takes what nature gives. I gasp for tender things I'll never tell -- in silence, secrets live inside my shell. © Copyright Kathy Earsman Honorable Mention Net Poetry & Arts Competition October, 2003 Brisbane at Nightfall As dusk approaches, gulls have gathered here behind a fishing boat, their bodies white and shining as they glide before the sheer metallic-coloured river banks. Tonight they'll rest upon the quiet waters, drift in silence like the Lady of Shallot. The city holds its breath. Now there's a shift of light: the sky is palest apricot... and there against the backdrop of the sky the flying foxes lift upon the air. The pulsing of their wings as they go by has quickened every heart-beat. Everywhere above us sooty shapes whirl ever higher, like bits of blackened paper from a fire. © Copyright Kathy Earsman Forgive Rondeau Redouble Forgive yourself, my son, for errors past, for weaknesses are only strengths reflected; mistakes that seem so glaring, when recast may bring solutions if they are respected. Adventures led to outcomes unexpected and some were bound to leave you quite aghast. In light of reason, do not be dejected, forgive yourself, my son, for errors past. Oh hold your self-respect and hold it fast! Your tender heart deserves to be protected, and self-recrimination cannot last, for weaknesses are only strengths reflected. Your strengths are vital, let them be directed, for deep within you lies a wisdom vast; you?ll see how inexperience affected mistakes that seem so glaring, when recast. And when the benefits you have amassed, when all the stepping-stones have been connected, be proud my son that journeys unsurpassed may bring solutions if they are respected. Then when your future course has been selected, please know that strengths and weaknesses contrast; they complement each other when inspected, there never was a need to be downcast. Forgive yourself my son. © Copyright Kathy Earsman Silver medal winner Net Poetry and Arts Competition, January 2004 Bubble Reputation by Peter Earsman ...seeking the bubble reputation, even in the cannon's mouth... Wm Shakespeare A hero's act that takes his life implies a selflessness, that by this gallant deed he's willing, almost anxious to concede his own life and so happily he dies. How clear is thought when conscience tells one lies in situations dazzling in their speed, with friends dependent on perception's need to take an action common sense decries? So what is left to say when he is dead? His will-to-live was for that moment shed? The sadder ones perhaps are men who chose to balk at rash acts - and of course there's those who'd say they'd welcome dying's fleeting fame; but I suspect they'd sooner live with shame. © Copyright Peter Earsman Honorable Mention Net Poetry & Arts Competition, December, 2003 Sadly, on April 5, 2004, the world lost Peter Earsman... "Soldier poet, philosopher, musician, man of shining wit and humour..." His family and friends mourn his passing, but his words live on. Peter's page in the International War Veterans' Poetry Archives More of his poetry ~ Te Awamutu Online ______________________ From a Soldier's Wife Whatever noble selfless thoughts may lend you courage in the glory of the day, however strong the impulse to defend, before you give your life, my love I pray remember, I depend on you to live; I wait in anguish while you are at war; more than my own, I love the life you'd give; my heart is with you now and evermore. Though greater love hath no man than to die in sacrifice to principle and fame 'tis nobler far to live, than rotting lie in foreign field beneath a hero's name. Without you I am beaten, broken, torn; come home to me and children yet unborn. © Copyright Kathy Earsman Peter and Kathy published in Dermanities journal Kathy's Haiku bonsai - all you could be imprisoned rain-dark wood; white lichen tufts our fence a slip of sky hangs ashimmer - new dragonfly shadows chase their birds into sunset darkness a frog calls I am white blossoms star the dark wet earth thunder a fat moth sleeps in my letter box bruised ribs - abandoned surfboard gathering leaves Oh! a leaf jumps up flicker flicker butterfly pink crepe murtle touched by bee feet shivers damp forest mulch a red feather still warm © Copyright Kathy Earsman |
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