Luke Davies

(1962 - / Sydney / Australia)

North Coast Bushfires


Reverence. How the afternoon
comes down on you like that.
In a microsleep you can travel
hundreds of metres — into trees
and cars. I thought I would
just close my eyes. After that
it is all pretty random.
The universal joint, the bearing pins.

So I tried to focus on clouds.
They billowed just like anvils.
I smelled smoke long before the cops
closed off the highway.
On backroads the sunlight slanted
through dust and I pictured the roll
of the earth. The sky turned orange.
But everyone had the same idea.

At dusk a black soot filled
the valley where a lone tree stood.
It was like driving through fog, only
it burnt the throat. Then lightning
lit that tree which said, “I have
grown into a god.” And stray thoughts
were telling me how badly I needed
a motel. Because life is long.

Submitted: Thursday, May 03, 2012

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (North Coast Bushfires by Luke Davies )

Enter the verification code :

  • Veteran Poet - 2,997 Points Walterrean Salley (5/16/2012 4:58:00 PM)

    Quite an experience. This is very touching. I wish there were no such thing as brushfires, but they are real. And they disrupts and destroy life, and terrify everyone. Just another headache for humans, animals, plants -ALL. Very well written with emotions convered. 10 (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

Trending Poets

Trending Poems

  1. If, Rudyard Kipling
  2. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  3. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  4. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
  5. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
  6. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  7. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  8. Moonlit Night, Tu Fu
  9. Invictus, William Ernest Henley
  10. No Man Is An Island, John Donne

Poem of the Day

poet Tu Fu

Tonight at Fu-chou, this moon she watches
Alone in our room. And my little, far-off
Children, too young to understand what keeps me
Away, or even remember Chang'an. By now,

...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet Francis Ledwidge

 
[Hata Bildir]