Poetry There are a number of poets among the Ovi team, so we have gathered the together here.
| ||Your life against mine|
You wake up at dawn,
your eyes adjust to the pale light.
I wake up in the middle of night,
| ||The Burial of the Dead|
The cenotes led The Fathers of Us All to it:
at the bottom of the waters there is a cave,
with land one can walk on, and breathe.
| ||Alexandra David-Neel (V2)|
She edits her life from a room made dark
against a desert dropping summer sun.
A daring traveling Parisian adventurer,
| ||Apprehension |
I do not argue with the wind
And rain may wet me if it must.
Random events leave me chagrined.
There's not much more to be discussed.
| ||Concrete Jungle |
The neighbour next door was beating
A worn red coloured Persian rug
With a tennis racket at the back
Of his unit and clouds of dust
Rose up into the air.
| ||Heaven is My Horse Fly (V2)|
A common horse fly
vacationing in my world
into my bathroom,
| ||Once upon a time|
I've been living underground
like graffiti, the grunge scene,
gravity and volcanic rock for
the longest time. I've been many things in my life.
| ||The Dream, Again|
Oona was in it, as she is in all the ones I remember.
Why I was lying on the ground in front of the house, hiding my face
In that gigantic cushion mom and I used to use when we watched the old roundscreen Zenith T.V.,
I'll never know.
| ||Ruminating in Bass Strait|
A different beach hedonism decorates these days.
Early fog burned off, wetsuited kite-surfers ski waves,
deftly dodging tinnies, rocks, and bathers.
A canopy eclipses the sun, a looming prehistoric bird
above my shadowed nape, this familiar waterline.
| ||Dismissed by tomorrow|
I scrape the dreams I chased with my own blood
I banish the lies with the carmine drops
My eyes follow the sky and I run;
I run as fast as I can to catch the horizon.