Luke Davies Poems
Comments about Luke Davies
Poetry And Flowers
Lark and rose go mad, even with winter
coming on, the garden beneath the verandah blooms,
the park is dense with sun and soccer balls.
By lark I mean generic bird, God knows
the names for all these things with wings. Ditto
the rose: the garden drooling colour and bloom.
Lavender I recognise, and jasmine climbing
the concrete wall, and a real rose in the corner,
red as blood. I meant to say: birds and flowers
go ballistic, even with winter coming on.
Carrying on their own life. The earth drowns
in the blooming. Even when there is no wind there is
Reading physics in the Charger
at North Bondi; after a while
it gets hard to concentrate.
All that sunlight.
Clouds moving just fast enough
to be boring if you watch them,
totally different the next time you look.
All that wind.