The needle of time

Stable and unchanging, the needle exists

To form our history's inimitable fabric

Random raw material rolled into a ball

Sensations silk-fine to prickle-coarse.

In even strokes the needle works

Rhythmic, hypnotic, row upon row

In, round, through and off

A single thread, countless connections.

Minutes pass, the needle knits

We see only entangled loops

Emergent patterns of stitch and hue

Substance of a textured life.

Hours vanish, the needle flies

Even sleep brings no reversal

Perfectly balanced with time's opposite

The needle of eternity.

This poem was inspired by my own passion for knitting and written as an exercise in image and abstraction for the Sharpened Visions poetry course.

 

Individual perspective

An argument has arisen,

About crossing provincial borders during a pandemic.

On a more intuitive level,

It is at times like these in the past,

That I've begun planting some new perennials.

What aligns with your understanding,

When you think about effectiveness?

For me it's around adapting to blindness,

Which happens to correspond closely to,

A big task.

The above is an experimental poem based on a workshop exercise. From my journal for the month of August, I copied and pasted every twelfth line into a new document, from where I selected a short section to play with. After omitting lines that contained names of people and places, and adding the second line to give the poem context, the only alterations I made involved punctuation and one verb form. The result isn't exactly profound but I do think it provides surprising insight into what was on my mind at the time of writing.

 

Going about

Forbidden seed, restricted source

Of soothing counterpoint to stress

 Your changing status from harmful to hopeful

Has assailed our craft, tilted our deck.

 Consensus has moved to the other end of the boat

Threatening to capsize us on the next strong swell

I who once stood surrounded by the righteous majority

Now look around, perplexed and disorientated.

Gusts of wind grab the sails, white-caps form at starboard and port

Wetly I cling to the rail, hair stuck to my face

Cleats clatter, lines whip and snap

And still the dancing crowd in the bow call for more.

Quick, grab the sheets! Throw the anchor overboard!

Watch the boom come over with a crack

Unexpectedly, we've changed our whole direction

Different tack, novel pressure, strange new footing.

This poem was written in response to a report on the publication of South Africa's draft marijuana bill and the reaction by certain sectors of the public to its anti-entrepreneurial restrictions.

Deadwood

Stark, gaunt, damaged, dry,

Crooked branch that once reached high,

Missing from the papery sky,

Blight upon the perfect eye.

Good thing it didn't block the way.

No place for deadwood as we play

Our high-speed games, but it's okay.

It's out of sight so it can stay.

Downed amidst the dirt and dross

The bough is sprouting mats of moss,

Filaments as fine as floss,

Breaking down the hulk of loss.

Sterile tarmac melts and breaks,

Diverted traffic swells and snakes

Through thirsty parks, past slimy lakes —

Clear the deadwood in case it takes.

Hack back the ferns, remove the thorn,

Rip up the shaggy, emerald lawn,

Mankind will ever be forlorn

For lack of understanding.

This piece was inspired by a podcast that featured a garden in summer, where birds, ants and all sorts of other invisible creatures were found to be inhabiting a dead tree.

Endangered Space

Space

An open tract

An empty region

A vast expanse.

Spaciousness, yet bounded

For the purpose of protection

From the threat of occupation

In the name of good intention.

Space is valuable for itself, I say,

Not just to fill, not just to use,

A spacious place is a place to breathe,

To open up to nature's ease

And find the natural lines of flow,

Where fresh ideas and talents grow.

Respect my space and I will yours,

A world less cluttered is a worthy cause.

This poem was written first thing in the morning in response to the thought of a whole day without interruption or intrusion.