Author: martin (Page 17 of 31)

Neither this nor that
A perfect in-between

Spirit breath
Cosmic stance

The compression of a universe
Into one indivisible point

An expansion of a universe
into all points

A noun for oneness
Unanimous stillness

The experience
Of now

MChallis © 2015

Great heart lives
In the sea of dreams, where
The gentle soul knows
The wonder and power
Of even the smallest ripple, and to
Touch just one
With love’s caress
Is testament profound
To a life well lived.

MChallis @ 2015

They have a ball here,
their backwardsing
their forwardsing;
the rainbow lorikeets, the pink galah, the dove.

Along and up and down
the ridge line of this hill
like an airway
a real high-way upon which they fly;
the joyful chattering squawks and squits
of sheer intent,
to move
quickly to the next excitement:
a blossom, a floral, a pod
a nectar.

And then again to
dash about,
to go together
to make this urgent
to make it all such essential fun.

MChallis @ 2015

The un-discovered country;
in his eyes
when he praises you.

He attempts to hide the nervousness.
The rate of his breathing increases.
His father never gave him praise.
Never gave him glory.
Never it seems, made him the special centre of the moment.

And yet now he works this gift for you;
does it with no experience.
Is motivated by the desire to see you grow.
To see you swell with growing.
He stumbles over foreign land.

A son: your father.
Not measured by calibration.
Not perceived in weight or wonder but
as hard stone,
the slow carved mark
sharpening on
unborn generations.

You walk with him.
Your hand in his.
The path new, yet well worn with wishing.

This image is an invocation:
Father and son, two friends like fire,
like kindling, like warmth.

If we imagine this for many sons and
for many fathers
perhaps
it will not be
so much further off.

MChallis © 2015

Crumbs of heaven
fall wing-soft
yet you and I
know nothing of manna or prophecy.

In the midst of
well trodden, unbidden
inner indivisibles,
habit’s anvils weigh us.

Yet attest this to one small place of untouched bliss
where we may grace the light
now and so often
extinguished
in barren land.

The foreign treader
of a dawn held wish
unfurls from our robes,
hangs us at an altar,
and no-where attempts to keep secret the name of commitment
from the carol of lip or tongue.

Silence the two-headed voice beyond the shroud,
hear this life and the secret of light.

Entwine and wind
anticipate the suspence of l imitations
and the future of what will be possible.

Hold off
hold off,
stir, sweet one
nurture our convergence.

MChallis © 2015

take rain from sky
take the way tall men straighten your stance
take the students of dance
see the little ballerina stretch her toes
see her mother warm with the floodlight

take your plea to the judiciary
take your eye to the statue of David
smear on the dust of Somalia
rub raw the frost of Croatia
refresh your aim in the heights of Angola
but do not stop only at this

take every impediment
trust every promise of clemency
stumble if you will
fall under cease-fire
take it all

take the watchmaker
bent over time
with fine tools
clasp each second

take the sculptor who
chisels and scalpels for the grandiose

later in your armchair
fold creases in your newspaper with care

be with every nourishment
be with the cloth of your nakedness
make sail for your harbour of origin

remember the milk of your mother
warm or cold or sweet if it is so
appease hunger
with the ambidextrous mouth
of a soldier
fed with death in his jungle

be the bystander, be the bi-partisan,
the cripple, the timeless,
the dancer
be it all

take each increment
the infinite
possible present
take it all

MChallis © 2015

Cedar Creek
a moonlit evening
looking up into sparkling eucalypts

After rain
The moon is reflected
In every droplet
On every leaf,
Simplicity has sent her messengers

With the brush and rustle of an evening breeze
These celestial missives begin to fall

To leave
the moon more eminent

MChallis © 2015

There were painter’s clouds that day;
broiled and tumbled,
moving inner silence across an easel.

Beneath them
a concrete mind mixed and etched
one long brush-stroke;
the tarmac before us.

Excited engines carried us along
and carried by us
an air befriended…

with the convertible top thrown down
your hair streamed behind
olympic colour; a spectrum of extraordinary.

Your head held back a sunrise laugh
and all the wind
belonged to exhilaration.

Ahead of us, the horizon captured another sky,
a mist-green hail filled sea; that ominous litany.

A pallet knife scratched its lightening
and the danger of no potential
that kept us moving on.

MChallis © 2015

when there is nothing left
but the need for sleep
all the body can do
is close the eyes
it will not need
for a time
and find the hollowest
part of a calming memory
to tuck away into
releasing the need
to hold anything
save the desire
for peaceful
slumber

from deepest rest
there can be a return
to the world where
possibility re-awakens
and with morning
the opportunity to
go again
to attempt what had
the night before
been unimaginable
and unknowable

MChallis © 2014