My dog jumped in
with a cheeky grin,
my duck flapped his wing
and began to sing.
My hen scratched the edge
paddling on the ledge,
my frog leapt with vim
and began to swim.
My cow with panache
made a fearful splash!
My horse galloped in
hoping for a win.
My cat gave a yowl
hiding in a towel:
so I found him a boat,
and a coat that will float
and a sea-going hat—
for an Admiral Cat.
Julie Thorndyke
a snail shell
of grey concrete
round and round
this underground car park
on our way to the theatre
ferries rock
over gleaming waters…
when I was a child
pointed iron posts
lined this green sea-wall
people—
all colours and shapes—
our guessing game
who is local
who is sightseeing
peach savarin
with mascarpone
a last sip of wine—
these are compensations
for the grey hair we wear
brown curls
bounce above the cello
such a young frame
holding all that
polished mahogany
an oboe held
by a man, coy of smile,
neat of beard—
I’d like to share
a laugh with him
a handshake
with first violin—
the conductor’s fingers
dart and leap, a bird
making music from the air
hip-hop booms
along the lower concourse
this feeling
that ancient hordes
are at the gates of Rome
in a red rattler
my mother pointed out
the new opera house site—
all those years ago
when Sydney was ordinary
© Julie Thorndyke
this ivory hook
my grandmother held
in anxious fingers—
I use the same rhythm
to crotchet away my fears
© Julie Thorndyke
first published in
Spent Blossoms
Tanka Society of America Members Anthology 2015 p. 48
a tanka sequence by Julie Thorndyke and Jan Dean
August sweeps
over the demolition site—
broken walls, twisted pipes
the torn patterns of old
wallpaper and past lives
layers build
pattern upon pattern
making art
isn’t always so
the best comes easily
so much to do—
can’t find my way
back
to that quiet place
poetry comes from
how like reflection
to make something better
the wrong way up
some day the world will say
twist asunder and start again
I need new words
to populate a poem—
some fish to swim
in the lily pond where thoughts
hover like dragonflies
once the winds
were always in august
now they come at whim
darting here, unbending
restless, ever restless
if the wind
blows from another
direction—shall I
dance a different step
sing a different tune
is anything left
from those long dark days
when everything
was gratefully received?
for some nothing ever suits
on a creaky ship
that rolled and rocked
grandfather came…
and this old frock coat
is all that is left of him
some decide
recycling is warranted
others are happy
to forget the past, move on
saving the best for last
©Julie Thorndyke and Jan Dean
First published Kokako 14 April 2011 p.34-35
Julie Anne Thorndyke 