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face : poetry : day 2

black hair braided
pulled tightly back
severity tempered
by an explosion of flowers
the rainbow halo frames
a flamboyant madonna of sorrows

the camera doesn’t capture
her soul, her certain spirit
owns the lens
controls the exposure
we are her subject
suspended in time
exposed beneath
her intense attention
her focused scrutiny

her gaze gives life to her portrait
posed, poised and passionate
disconcerting in her directness
dark eyes defined
by darker brows

(and she is …?)

© Claire Griffin 2016

face : #introtopoetry : day 2 : alliteration

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trees of the long white cloud : part II

the native evergreens
do not rest in winter

kahikitea, karaka, kauri, kowhai
pohutukawa, ngaio, rata, rimu, totara

season after season
they weave and re-weave
their cloak of green
they stay awake, alert
through summer’s drought
and winter’s flood and snow
seasons the least of their concerns
as their roots reach for each other
in the deep underground
and they wrap their long thin fingers around hidden rock
feeling for the slightest tremor, sensing the slightest shift

guardians of the earthmother
they draw life from her tears
from her breath and body
sentinels standing guard
aware, attentive, vigilant
calming her dreaming
holding tight in nightmares
as she shakes and trembles in her sleep
they cradle her head and breasts and hips as she turns
sometimes losing hold
and falling
as she shakes herself awake

 

© Claire Griffin 2016

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trees of the long white cloud : part I

these trees are immigrants
keeping true to their long histories
continuing the customs of their ancestors

sepia, folium
tyrian, madder
minium, cinnabar
carmine, cadmium
saffron, sienna, ochre, weld

these colours are deceiving
unlike flowers, they are not an invitation
rather, they are a sign of loss
and of a turning inward

as the trees begin withdrawing into themselves
conserving energy, preserving life-force
releasing all non-essential elements
leaves lose green and fall

to protect themselves
from winter’s chill
the trees hibernate above ground
they stand naked in the cold
heart kept warm deep in their centre
beating slowly, barely breathing

they stand quietly, patiently
winter – one long meditation
until the sun rings the zen-bell
and branch tips stretch, buds open
and the trees shake themselves awake

 

© Claire Griffin 2016

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avebury

At different times
we came to this place,
to this circle of stone,
and we both felt the
mystery was our own.

There was no choice –
we could do nothing,
but reach out –
and lay our hands upon the stone,
reach out –
and hold the stone,
as if embracing.

Who are we,
that we can slip through time,
touch the past,
and be so moved?

Who are we
if we cannot?

© Claire Griffin 2016

(One of several pieces written over twenty years ago (!)
Looking back now I think that I was trying to create in writing
a connection to someone that perhaps I couldn’t find in any other way.
Still – I like some of these as poems in their own right –
and can read the “we” in a more universal sense,
extending beyond my intentions at the time)

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walking alone

walking alone
on the empty beach
through driftwood
piled up on the sand
sea-worn skeletons
of storm-torn trees

and the footprints of past visitors
crossing and re-crossing
disordered, cryptic pathways
indecipherable
and leading nowhere

it could be easy to start
worrying about purpose and meaning
to become lost in memories
and regrets

but I revel in places like this
the emptiness gives me space to breathe
I can expand into it
I feel lighter, pressure lifts

there is a change in perspective
as the natural world
goes about its business
and I am irrelevant
my worries are nothing

there is a calm excitement
anticipation
as if at any moment the whole world
could shift and become something new

I feel the past
the timeline of history
in every scrap of wood and sand
and dog-print and shell
and I sink into it
and becoming absorbed by it all is affirming and healing

a bird flies right past me
shoulder-height
I look up
sea birds fill the beach and sky

I watch one
repeatedly flying up
then down again
to the low tide line

I realise it is dropping
a shellfish
over and over
persisting until it breaks open
and it can feed on the sweet flesh

that’s life really

we keep going
until the work of living
reveals its secrets and rewards

and on days like this
in places like this
I have no doubt
my footprints join the rest
my pathway just as hidden
my dreams fly with the birds
my intentions just as clear

 

© Claire Griffin 2016

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attention brings connection : part III

I was leaving
and just as I drew away
three girls dressed in black walked past
and you approached them
in the same way
you came to me
head forward
purposeful

IMG_2300

they take your photo
discussing how to make you turn
so they can get a better angle

somewhere, sometime
you learnt to approach people
and now you still do it
even when we have nothing
to give you
though perhaps we do
is it too much to think –
is it our attention you seek?

I wonder if your curiosity
will be respected

I worry for you now
you have entered my mind
I carry knowledge of you
you inhabit me

you gave me your attention

I am not disappointed

I am not alone

 

© Claire Griffin 2016