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Robin Dale Poems

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21.01.2022 Two of us. Through the long strand of this knit life... there have been two of us never coming apart there has always been this big shadow of someone someone else always in a room a car a café a paddock - he has been there bending my thought to me things bending my presence into the air around me always hanging over me like a white shadow like a bottomless clear pool he has taken my tears he has bent them toward me he is sometimes like an old fashioned diving suit giving me air in murky water sometimes a father a threatening presence bending the light into my eyes there have always been two of us I would like to shake off this clear bubble or let it expand into nothing It's like another head of hair long and well combed and intent on making me think about myself when I die I suspect it will remain after my body is cremated and will push my ghost into being me but what will that be?

18.01.2022 The Next Farmer. I was swimming in the dam on a hot day in late spring a cormorant circled... then flew off the brown water was warm on top and cold deeper friesians fanned out across the night paddock six o'clock, milking done I was thinking of my dead uncle and how he had had a good weather eye and knew his piece of earth and how when he died the next farmer built a huge automatic rotary dairy on his land and could explain everything. See more

18.01.2022 Home? As a seeded sycamore in the bush like a monster of deciduous... yellow I feel alien here like glass in the sea or a shopping bag high in the sky unable to root as if growing in a crevice in the mountains and I imagine I would feel the same in the land of my birth if I returned there oh where is my home? but you where is yours? When coming into the café on a Monday morning there you are and I recognise you. See more

13.01.2022 Old. You don't know you don't know you young who want me... to be like you full of the future and hope and its energy and lust and its energy You don't know how the world pales and begins to groan and like a popular tune heard for forty years it loses its stars and its mysterious power You don't know you don't know young ones who want me to be young at heart and as if I hadn't been broken on the wheel and bled and as if I weren't where the path dwindles and the wilderness beckons like the pair of black cockatoos passing over and all the sided earth is sloughed off and deflated and the petals on the skin are blown away the white birds by the shore cry a language I understand now and as the waves running over each other hurrying in I must soon be gone to other life like the leaves of the beech flash in the autumn light fluttering down onto the quick river. Life hurries on without pause even in old age Oh you don't know how the once-full moon approaches the sun in half-knowing and the coats and frump of age cannot be shaken off and go with this crêped pelt for a short while of being a clothes horse in a dark yard under cloud like the world tattered and rage-bound crawling past looking for eternity.

12.01.2022 Mum. I sit a little drunk in a wonderful cold winter and remember other winters... the rain on the sill the shadows in the room the wind driving wet onto the last leaves of the fig tree planted five years ago by Stephen and I remember my mother how cold she would get in winter and have the gas heater on when it was sixteen degrees and she would feel my warm hands with her icy ones and sit and read Austen with a blanket on her knees and a glass of muscat. See more