Poetry Porch: Poetry


by Chris Wallace-Crabbe

        Grumble away, sweet ocean,
              Your surf comes rolling fast
            With such a lyric motion
                Your powers go to waste
        But the bluegum-shaggy mountain
        Ignores your breaking;
          Rosellas here are waking
                And slowly, very slowly,
                I too am waking.

                Now the bright sun rolls higher,
                Ocean falls to rest,
            Ideas have lost their fire
              And reverie seems best
          But the pulse of coastal music
          Grows oddly firmer;
                Thin creeks and gum-tips murmur
        And, pushing through the tea-tree,
                I, too, murmur.

Copyright © 2009 by Chris Wallace-Crabbe.