Mark Scrivener Poetry Blog No 137 Two Poems from the Gold Coast - May Day on the Bay, Marine Parade

TWO POEMS FROM THE GOLD COAST - May Day on the Bay, Marine Parade

Surfer's Paradise from across Broadwater

These two poems are both set on the Gold Coast of Southern Queensland in the region of the Broadwaterway. The Broadwaterway is a 19-kilometre (12 mi) foreshoreway along the foreshores of the Gold Coast Broadwater. Wikipedia.

They are based on the idea of the "Chinese Sonnet" - each verse of four lines and four feet or beats being one.

The usual Chinese poem is four lines. The first line contains the initial phrase; the second line, the continuation of that phrase; the third line turns from this subject and begins a new one; and the fourth line brings the first three lines together. Quote from http://deoxy.org/koan/88

They are also examples of lyric poems written at a particular time and place, "snapshots" from life, without any set dogmatic meaning. Nevertheless I think they convey certain "meanings" through atmosphere and image.

Broadwater with Surfer's Paradise in background

MAY DAY ON THE BAY

Now bright-winged gulls are near on breezes,

but pelicans take peaceful distance,

to stand in state on sands beyond

this humming crowd of holiday.

Beneath a zenith autumn blue

some, passersby, on footpaths pass,

while some sit gazing from bay wall,

perched on the concrete edge of day.

In east, past afternoon-sunk cloud,

a chopper glints in sun, above

white, bobbing masts of boats upon

the rippled home of hidden fish.

Far stony scrapers stand so close

to southward bay’s blue that they seem

designed for vertical descent,

to sink within the sea of time.

Yet here for us beyond is silence,

sounds drowned by waves of dining babble,

as we take lunch while, stroller-bound,

the child lies eyes closed, sunk in sleep.

Straw-Necked Ibises among picknickers - Labrador on Broadwaterway

MARINE PARADE

Light clouds and haze above the bay

drift slow as dreams, though breeze on ground

is fresh enough to swish palm fronds

and wrinkle waters in the sun.

The tide is out. Past north-east sands

the morning ripples coruscate

in shallows where boats sit. On shore

spring’s rainless weeks leave park grass dry.

And on a stretch of yellow-brown,

short lawn round swings and slippery dip,

white ibises seek hidden food,

and probe with long black bills.

And all about a breeze of beauty

blows through the bay to dwindle in

the blocks of flats and lawn-set houses,

the city web of road and street.

But still the breeze speaks through the leaves

with whispers, soft and cool,

arriving from wide, neighbour ocean,

still wild beyond all human rule.