West from Fernleigh Gardens
Expands an eagles' vantage,
Weekday harbour, midday calm,
Ferry eases lee of Fort Denison;
All's quiet as a satellite suburb.
Leisure laden sails race to Bridge,
Deck's muted line ripples celerity,
Above the Cahill faint Blue Mountains
feign invisibility in swelling haze.
Power boats elbow fresh nor'easter,
Lance agape, scabbled grey blue green,
Trailing white wounds scab and peel.
Jets whine in fragmented cirrus,
Static city denies productivity,
Grinding truck din's boiling growl
Despoils, plumes and vanishes,
Ambient hum camouflages hide;
Russian Mafia resume their vigil.
18/11/2010
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Seems I've been to Fernleigh Gardens now, via this poem, well penned. I can almost smell the truck oil.....