The Tropics888 lives and works in the Parramatta LGA. Here are two poems.
Purple plumes of petals bloom
the jacaranda season,
I go outside
and walk around
down pattered paths put feet on.
The sunrise blooms
its colours too
drenching from horizon
in royal dyes and like a crown,
the earth wears
while it’s risin’.
THE LOCAL CREEK
The local creek is muddy, shallow,
wide in parts and others narrow,
tendril tears the willows weep,
by coiling banks as waters creep.
From below a fish appears,
mouths the surface, disappears .
Pairs of ducks float dunking heads,
tranquil above river beds.
The creek moves slow, unless it’s rained
then several metres may be gained
higher up this lowest ground,
threatening homes where they surround.
I used to cross by fallen tree,
nature’s bridge provided free,
further on there’s one man made,
cement and steel, that work was paid.
There’s paths nearby on either side
one worn, one laid, nearby reside
snails, worms, and slugs, and grubs,
amongst the grass, plants, trees, and shrubs.
When crossing paths some meet their end,
though not what most paced feet intend.
Tortoises that swim the waters
wearing homes with shells for quarters.
Human homes back beyond bush,
as ever on those waters push.