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Latest 5 Poems of Anthony Burge
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(4/8/2013 4:30:00 AM)
Hello fellow scribes, I'm new to this forum and look forward to exploring and expanding my creative writing skills through immersion.
Saltwater observations inspire me to write, wether on, in, under the ocean or in country by lands edge.
I am lucky to be living in the remote north east Arnhem Land region on Aboriginal Land having relocated with my family from the eastern suburbs of Sydney, Australia.
I was raised with the ocean as my playground and I'm never happier than when I have the land at my back and the sea out in front.
This new chapter in my life sees me living alongside Australia's traditional indigenous land owners.
Living with the Yolngu people, aka the Saltwater people has been a truly spiritual experience that has given me further insight into my heartfelt connection with both land and sea.
I try to engage the full gamut of emotions in my writing and feel equally at home exploring both light and the dark.
I wish to explore new genres in this forum and will add to my works from time to time.
'I wrestle with words be they spoken or inked.
Happy to share and hear what you think.'
Looking forward to reading your works.
Regards; Anthony Burge
(4/6/2013 12:37:00 PM)
The fog crept twixt the stick straight trees
rolled low across the ground.
The yellow moon shone frosted grass
and nothing made a sound.
A low-slung Dingo slunk in the shadows
propped at the edge of a clearing.
His tattered ears swivel fore and aft
alert to the sounds not hearing.
Trotting across the glassy grass
beneath the smoky haze.
Weaving between the fallen trees
by scent through well trod maze.
Tall crosshatched shadows cast moonlit trunks
across the sodden earth.
Pandanus palms dance eerie light
knee deep in dewy surf.
Propped stopped again, ears pricked, eyes sharp,
Paw raised, held breath, breaks into a gallop,
hunting on the hurry.
A panicked fluster of night bird feathers
flees upon the wing.
Caught between the Dingoes teeth
no longer will she sing.
The mournful cry of a lonesome bullocky
like a ship through the thickening fog.
Answered by another
from a distant wetland bog.
Frozen Dingo feathered mouth
stands silent in the mist.
Till all is clear and fog bound sound
is hushed in natures list.
Head dipped low, cross rock, twixt trees
beneath the slippery fog.
He trots a wary traveler,
to his lair the wild bush dog.