Japanese Form Poetry by SB Wright
We tour the region north of Goyder’s line and it hits me that here is a foreshadowing of the climate crisis to come; townships that used to house 600 were reduced to a couple of aged and cracking official buildings, monuments to human hubris. For sure, technology ensured that the regions were populated again but I’m not sure if we learned anything.
cracked ashphalt
a pepper tree sprouts
in centre court
©️sbwright2023
beside the creek bed
the meandering course
of mated ringnecks
©️sbwright2023
among the tussock
the calls of the spotted grass frog
hidden
©️sbwright2023
fleeting autumn
between each laboured breath
the maple sheds a leaf
©️Sbwright2023
She’s hidden her egg sack in the needles of a pine branch, a pale yellow susuwatari. A few golden strands of her web have snapped and congealed into a larger, tangled one. The larder appears full, two strings of “black pearls”.
the orb weaver
sitting motionless for days
nothing gold can stay
©️sbwright2023
Right now, my wife is teaching herself to play Keane’s, Somewhere Only We Know, on the concert grand. She’s probably frustrated she’s not getting it perfect, but something in that imperfection, in reaching for the right notes, generates an overwhelming sense of yūgen.
love’s labour
between the notes a single tear
rolls down my cheek
©️sbwright2023
The millipedes are on the move again. We live in an old farmhouse, so there’s no sense in trying to keep them out. This variety are a pest, the Portuguese black millipede, accidentally introduced in the 1950’s. Our kittens have fun using them as hockey pucks when they curl into a spiral.
late autumn rain
the new kittens discover the taste
of millipedes
©️sbwright2023
One thing we kept noticing when we moved into our 120 year old farmhouse, was the little odd jobs that seemed to be jerry-rigged or a least done by someone with questionable experience and qualifications. Light switches were the most concerning. We thought it might be the “mend and make do” attitude common amoung a certain generation. We soon found out, however, that tradesmen didn’t want to turn up for “little jobs”.
fixing the leak
I call the plumber
with a big job
©️sbwright2023
South Australia’s Mid-North is littered with monuments to colonial hubris, skeletal settlements that proved the addage, “Rain follows the plow”, wrong.
last drinks
the old hotel floundering
in all directions
©️sbwright2023
roadside shrines
at each town a tank listing
football premiers
©️sbwright2023
鵲の歌 / Magpie Song 