Tuesday, September 3, 2013

My Dry Bones from Australian Author John Holland

 Chubb Illusions


My heart is a lead balloon.

Grey and empty as the world
on the coffee-coloured afternoons
when light strikes my eyes at odd angles.

Helping chubb illusions chase their tails
amongst the leaves.

While light in dappled splashes
stipples the bare brown table

under the trees.

Later.

At night.

Near to my window curlews scream
like nothing you’ve heard before.

In my dreaming
the woman with eyes like wild fruit
dances on the taut strings of a huge guitar.

As she dances she sings
with sweet sickness
of her lost love.
  
Her slim feet kick the notes
up into the warm air.



*******************************

Closed For Cleaning


She wondered what he had to hide.
So she ripped him open and slipped inside.

Looked around with half a smile.

Said,

no one has lived here for awhile!


She dusted, cleaned and made the bed.
Took up residence inside his head.

Peeped in the mirror and pulled a face.

Thought,

look at all this vacant space!

She painted over with rainbow tones.
Even the guts, blood and bones.

Considered her work and it made her glum.

Screamed,

this place is nothing but a slum!

So she left with a grimace of discontent.
Didn’t even bother to pay the rent.

Just grabbed a bag and hit the van.

Away she ran.


*************************


Going Down?


I have fallen through
the barrier once more.

There I go again.

Floating in a space
that is contained
on the tip of a
madman’s tongue.

Drifting down

to yet another
plane of existence.

Past crystal structures
glinting in the light of twin suns.

Beneath a sky spray painted
on a silver backdrop.

Swimming through
indigo nights and
persimmon daze.

To light as soft as
a feather on a bed of flowers.
Where sleepers doze on
pastel sheets of music and
guitar pickers pluck
notes from trees.

To read to sweethearts
during the soft lilac afterwards
of a scarlet noon.




About the Author:

John Holland grew up in outback
Australia. Living on cattle stations his father Jack Holland managed in Queensland, the Northern Territory and the Kimberley.  He has been a stockman, miner, road worker, speech writer/media officer for a Queensland state member of parliament and a newspaper columnist.  John now lives in Townsville, tropical North Queensland and writes full time.

John started writing poetry at the age of 14.  Introduced to the genre by his Father - who would read or recite from memory - poetry to John and his siblings who didn't have TV or computer games to entertain themselves with.

John has two poetry books trade published.  Dry Bones was released in November 2012 and Under The Dog Star recently.  Both books reached #1 on the Amazon Kindle bestsellers list for Kindle Editions > Poetry >
Australia and Oceania.

Holland is reclusive writer who belongs to no writing groups or clubs.
His writing is widely received internationally.

Both books were published as ebooks by Hammer & Anvil Books of the USA.


Under The Dog Star:  http://amzn.com/B00E64XY2M

John does sell autographed print copies of both books through his own website.



5 comments:

  1. Thank you for allowing me to "appear" on this page at The Cherry muse. It is an honor!

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  2. I love these three poems. There is a crisp hard rhythm to your words and vivid imagery. My favorite is Closed for Cleaning, which strikes a funny bone with me. I own both these books but your poetry is something I love to re-read often and it's interesting to see selections from your different books here in one place.

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  3. Love both of Holland's books. Poignant poetry.

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  4. ... the soft lilac afterwards of a scarlet noon ... so beautiful.

    ReplyDelete