Petroleum
Petroleum
windswept leafy autumn chill
fuel that warmed machine's internals
now drained
tanks vapour filled
hollow booming - signage an empty promise
abandoned a day and already unkempt
fenced, dug up and replaced
the land given a new life
and on future warm summer evenings
when myriad people sip and gaze
from fresh balconies
a faint waft of petroleum
hangs sweetly in the air
-May 2012
Our local service station has finally closed. It marks the end of an era for this little suburb. One of the last small servos to go. The bicycle shop - it was handy having one just down the road - closed up months ago. I was on my way back from a family shoot on Sunday and saw that the place had finally closed ... so I stopped and took some photographs. The signage came down yesterday morning. I know all things must change and the world moves on but I was sad to see it go. Soon it will be as though nothing was there. Units will be up in a year. Nothing will remain except the faint waft of petroleum hanging sweetly in the air.
What about you? Do you document the things that change before they change?
'The Hotel' by Rudi de Jong
Picked this up in town from Rudi ...who wanders the town centres with photocopies of his work. I quite like them and happy to give him some exposure. I'll get a portrait of him one day and post that too...
'The Hotel' by Rudi de Jong
The oasis
the home away from home
old friends
the beer flowing freely
the publican
the weary pilgrim
music from the juke-box
the visitor
the cry
"Drinks on the house for everyone"
everyone filled with joy
troubles forgotten
problems solved
the beer glass raised high
the final word
Christ himself
a friend of publicans
and sinners
the Hotel
'The Hotel' by Rudi de Jong (20/3/2012)
Picked this up in town from Rudi ...who wanders the town centres with photocopies of his work. I quite like them and happy to give him some exposure. I'll get a portrait of him one day and post that too...
Condensed
Condensed
The cool skin, attractive
pulling my eyes
pulling the very vapours from the air
loving dappled and blue
condensed.
With These Hands I Will Make The World
With these hands I will dig
and hold
circle
and fold
shape
and grow
caress, create
with these hands I will make the world
Out in the backyard, playing in the dirt ... the simple joys of finding a creature alive in the soil. Then crushing it and loving it until it's alive no more ... I hope that if there is some kind of spirit guardian of the invertebrate realm that they perhaps look the other way when small children play with their kin.
'The New Year' a poem by Rudi de Jong
I see this poet in Civic standing tall and somewhat dishevelled asking passers by if they'd like to buy a photocopy of one of his poems ... yesterday I did and I liked it ... here it is....
The New Year - by Rudi de Jong
Time passing
the old becoming new
new hopes
new visions
a royal tapestry
old ways
resolutions forgotten
home, sweet, home
the golden handshake
the spoken word
prayers said
midnight joys
the economy in trouble
friends hard to find
the word spoken
another year
the future unknown
"Sufficient unto the day the evil there of"
the New Year.