An Aussie Blessing

I wrote this poem back in 2014 for my sister's birthday. It seems to be resonating with a few people. Since it's being passed around a bit, I'm putting it up here. (No, it's not tanka, just five-line stanzas with a common rhyme):

An Aussie Blessing

I wish you
a blue lapis sky
a sun-smile
winding through grasses
on a bushland path

a choir
of magpies singing
Christmas carols
a country kitchen
with blackened hearth

seventy
different scented roses
a eucalypt
decorated with threads
of a kookaburra's laugh

happy scraps 
of soon, now and past
a string of pearls
from psalms that chant
inside your heart

Hazel Hall 13.3.2014

The Last Rhino

This poem was published in Skryptic Magazine 2, 2017.

The last rhino

. . . came charging from the sky 

with coal-fire eyes 

skin thicker than belief

snorting poison till a cloud

of grey-white powder filled the air

more deadly than asbestos 

or mass-destruction rockets 

it trampled 

on apothecaries 

and store rooms holding 

caches of natural remedies

ripped libraries 

of wellness texts apart

then stopped in front of me 

as if it sensed I'd signed 

one of those on line-petitions-

shared posts 

with other bleeding hearts-

pressed like as if 

that might trigger action 

from some green politician

time joined in silently 

as I gazed down 

the bloody gaping hole 

where once a horn had been

and heard the cracks  

of gunshots 

from fellow human beings

Passage

This haibun appeared in the October issue of Cattails on page 72:

Passage

almost evening

jasmine and ashes 

make everything clear

             

We sit In a small shop in a narrow lane eating delicious saffron and pistachio lassi served in throw-away clay pots with wooden spoons. 

Every ten minutes solemn chanting is heard. First the wood-bearers hurry past. Then a procession. On the shoulders of four men is a mat attached to bamboo poles. 

The precious bundle is gilded with tinsel and marigolds. Behind comes a group of mourners, more logs and a cow that just happens to be ambling nearby.

They pass. So close you could touch them. Then they've gone.

that second

before emptiness

a light breeze

We dispose of our remains in the recycling pit. Time to look for transport home. 

charcoal sky

ending the journey 

before last light

Editor's Choice, Cattails October 2017

I was honoured to receive an Editor's Choice award in Cattails, October 2017,  p. 56, for this poem:

her degree
in microbiology
from Nepal
how carefully she cleans 

hospital bathrooms 

This tanka by Hazel Hall brings up so many emotions. It is sad and poignant, heartfelt. It aches with unfulfilled dreams. Yet it is also full of simple pride. The poem contains so much dignity and self-respect. All of these feelings can be found in this tanka, but they are never stated. Hazel expertly shows these through action, word choice and structure. 

It is an unassuming tanka that says so much about resilience and cross-border qualifications. About how we see ourselves. How we see others. Through Hazel's words we can visualise this woman, feel her values, and be physically moved by her plight. 

Hazel has structured this tanka to include a very effective pivot in line 3. And the tanka builds, line by line, to paint a vivid scene where we can empathise with this woman. The tanka flows gently, is unhurried, careful to unfold in due course. Much like the careful and unhurried approach this woman has to her cleaning. She takes care not to rush, to ensure it is done to the best of her ability. How "carefully" she cleans because she understands the nature of infection through her education. How carefully Hazel structures her poem because she understands the sensibilities of tanka. 

This is another outstanding tanka from the current journal that will linger with each reading.

David Terelinck