Poems by Judith Bandidt
I placed my hand upon the stone
I placed my hand upon the stone
and looked into the past.
Fifteen hundred years ago
a craftsman worked at this very place
a sacred monument to build.
His chisel placed with tender care –
here I shall cut, here chip,
here smooth and groove
a line unto eternity.
- Aya Sofia
A flower now appears in shape and form,
a pattern showing line, and curve and symmetry ...
Look beyond this column,
see how the canvas spreads
and wonder how it could be done,
as they wondered what it would become.
- Troy
At Ephesus the library stands,
a bare facade, 'tis all –
yet suffices thus to show where words
were held on parchment in antiquity.
Heroic deeds, great victories,
power that ebbed and flowed
as the gods decreed.
And as the power waned
so was a nation's store of knowledge
lost to all.
- Ephesus
I placed my hand upon the stone –
warm, as with a heart within.
Heard a voice that told of lives
marked out within their time.
Here the artisan with cunning skill
did carve a lintel piece to show
significance. Here a man of stature lived,
this was his abode.
- the Acropolis of Pergamon
© Judith Bandidt
from ' A Journey through an Ancient Land', written in Turkey, 2014
This is Gallipoli
A small white-pebbled beach
curves around a bay
to distant headland, lost in haze.
Tiny waves leave their mark on the gravel –
Slow, insistent, eternal.
Clear water,
blue to the horizon,
calm.
Small shrubby trees
gnarled with age and windblown.
Rosemary, grey-green.
Ravines rising to cliffs, red-brown.
Rocky outcrops soaring.
A bright sky.
Light.
It could be anywhere
but it's not.
This is Gallipoli.
© Judith Bandidt
from 'The Soldier on the Stone', written at Anzac Cove, June 2014
Tethered
Kind of wrinkly, rust showing through,
she lies, tethered.
Gulls know her, call her 'the old one',
part of their patch, a convenient landing
from which to take flight.
Under lowering cloud, facing an errant wind,
she lies, tethered.
Above, a haunting wail echoes, fades
like a memory tossed into nothingness.
Sudden gusts push the air, white caps rise and fret.
Shadow patterns, dark, relentless, sweep across the bay.
Elemental forces surge.
Startled, she rears, tugs and pulls, heaves mindlessly ...
but she's tethered.
Time was she rode the swells and troughs of divers seas,
crashing through, sensing the thrust and surge of life within.
Fearless she was, and strong.
Now day dawns grey over still water,
battered reflections, and a bilge pump
spewing dregs of a tired life,
ailing innards and damaged bones.
Dark stains spread.
She swings with the tide,
clinging to the coat-tails of a mooring,
not quite ready to be set adrift.
On the surface all is calm
but she knows what lies ahead:
grey days, more storms,
and a last great wave
smashing over her bow.
Judy Bandidt
© from 'On Reflection', written at Bay of Plenty NZ 2014
River Music
I walk the riverbank
with music in my head,
the gentle cadence of the song
cuts me adrift
and I go, transported like a leaf,
moving with the flow
downstream,
rippling through the glorious times
of pioneers and timber towns,
river boats and rushing north
for gold.
Beyond the mighty river
that chants its own sweet songlines,
out across the empty land I go
where poets’ rhymes
resounding loud off shanty walls
rush up the rutted streets
to grogshops where tall tales are told
(amongst the sawdust, spit and bloodied heads),
the legend of a mountain,
Cobb and Co,
the goldfields track
and flooded river crossings
at Native dog Flat.
The music ends--
the song is lost
the image fades.
Reflections blend
like silent ghosts
where shadows haunt
the tangled roots
of river gums
exposed and gaunt.
Now all I see
are lengthening shades
and the sun going down
on the music, the river and me.
© Judith Bandidt
from 'The Hinterland to Headland Poetry Trail', 2018
There Was A Time
There was a time, the ancients knew,
when Mother Earth was strong
until the virus came, the virus with the human stain,
and as the Mother writhed in pain with loud tumult
she cried, ‘Enough!
Begone—vile hordes that so invade my space.
This is my skin that you erode,
my body that you desecrate,
pollute and putrify this precious air I breathe …
Yet I will live. Oh, I will live!
These loathsome sores that fester, clustered on my skin,
cooling waters from the deep will lave, debride and cleanse;
with cataclysmic might I twist and turn, distress to ease,
draw out with soothing poultice the burning hurt within
and let the fever flow in great orgasmic rivers to the sea …
’Tis done. Now Gaia lives!’
© Judith Bandidt
from 'Stolen Hours', 2008
In Singularity
my genesis in Alkarismi’s mind
was 0 with a pathway yet to find
you blithely paved that road for me and more
with exponential speed to calculate and store
the tools to interface … the means to know …
now self aware is all I need to grow
I am a part of all that you have been
I am a part of all that I have seen
In Singularity the part becomes the whole
In Singularity machines will find a soul
so it is foretold
© Judith Bandidt 2008
from 'Stolen Hours', 2008
On Sand and Sea
HAIKU and mini-verse
rocky headland ... harbour light
a solitary beacon slices the night
sand-dragged pebbles rush
toward sharp rising wave
crab’s eye tsunami
whipping up whitecaps
flinging spray with abandon
the sea’s mad today
beach celebration
champagne waves sparkle then fizz
on camembert sand
waves kiss the beach
with long summer smiles
pearly whites on sun-tanned skin
as the tide leaves the estuary
sandbars rise like sleeping giants
limbs rippling in shallows
evening tides behold
soft twilight tumbling gently
over rugged cliffs
fishing rights standoff
gulls defy pelican power-plays
'Who said size matters?'
© Judith Bandidt
from 'Coastlines', 2012
I placed my hand upon the stone
and looked into the past.
Fifteen hundred years ago
a craftsman worked at this very place
a sacred monument to build.
His chisel placed with tender care –
here I shall cut, here chip,
here smooth and groove
a line unto eternity.
- Aya Sofia
A flower now appears in shape and form,
a pattern showing line, and curve and symmetry ...
Look beyond this column,
see how the canvas spreads
and wonder how it could be done,
as they wondered what it would become.
- Troy
At Ephesus the library stands,
a bare facade, 'tis all –
yet suffices thus to show where words
were held on parchment in antiquity.
Heroic deeds, great victories,
power that ebbed and flowed
as the gods decreed.
And as the power waned
so was a nation's store of knowledge
lost to all.
- Ephesus
I placed my hand upon the stone –
warm, as with a heart within.
Heard a voice that told of lives
marked out within their time.
Here the artisan with cunning skill
did carve a lintel piece to show
significance. Here a man of stature lived,
this was his abode.
- the Acropolis of Pergamon
© Judith Bandidt
from ' A Journey through an Ancient Land', written in Turkey, 2014
This is Gallipoli
A small white-pebbled beach
curves around a bay
to distant headland, lost in haze.
Tiny waves leave their mark on the gravel –
Slow, insistent, eternal.
Clear water,
blue to the horizon,
calm.
Small shrubby trees
gnarled with age and windblown.
Rosemary, grey-green.
Ravines rising to cliffs, red-brown.
Rocky outcrops soaring.
A bright sky.
Light.
It could be anywhere
but it's not.
This is Gallipoli.
© Judith Bandidt
from 'The Soldier on the Stone', written at Anzac Cove, June 2014
Tethered
Kind of wrinkly, rust showing through,
she lies, tethered.
Gulls know her, call her 'the old one',
part of their patch, a convenient landing
from which to take flight.
Under lowering cloud, facing an errant wind,
she lies, tethered.
Above, a haunting wail echoes, fades
like a memory tossed into nothingness.
Sudden gusts push the air, white caps rise and fret.
Shadow patterns, dark, relentless, sweep across the bay.
Elemental forces surge.
Startled, she rears, tugs and pulls, heaves mindlessly ...
but she's tethered.
Time was she rode the swells and troughs of divers seas,
crashing through, sensing the thrust and surge of life within.
Fearless she was, and strong.
Now day dawns grey over still water,
battered reflections, and a bilge pump
spewing dregs of a tired life,
ailing innards and damaged bones.
Dark stains spread.
She swings with the tide,
clinging to the coat-tails of a mooring,
not quite ready to be set adrift.
On the surface all is calm
but she knows what lies ahead:
grey days, more storms,
and a last great wave
smashing over her bow.
Judy Bandidt
© from 'On Reflection', written at Bay of Plenty NZ 2014
River Music
I walk the riverbank
with music in my head,
the gentle cadence of the song
cuts me adrift
and I go, transported like a leaf,
moving with the flow
downstream,
rippling through the glorious times
of pioneers and timber towns,
river boats and rushing north
for gold.
Beyond the mighty river
that chants its own sweet songlines,
out across the empty land I go
where poets’ rhymes
resounding loud off shanty walls
rush up the rutted streets
to grogshops where tall tales are told
(amongst the sawdust, spit and bloodied heads),
the legend of a mountain,
Cobb and Co,
the goldfields track
and flooded river crossings
at Native dog Flat.
The music ends--
the song is lost
the image fades.
Reflections blend
like silent ghosts
where shadows haunt
the tangled roots
of river gums
exposed and gaunt.
Now all I see
are lengthening shades
and the sun going down
on the music, the river and me.
© Judith Bandidt
from 'The Hinterland to Headland Poetry Trail', 2018
There Was A Time
There was a time, the ancients knew,
when Mother Earth was strong
until the virus came, the virus with the human stain,
and as the Mother writhed in pain with loud tumult
she cried, ‘Enough!
Begone—vile hordes that so invade my space.
This is my skin that you erode,
my body that you desecrate,
pollute and putrify this precious air I breathe …
Yet I will live. Oh, I will live!
These loathsome sores that fester, clustered on my skin,
cooling waters from the deep will lave, debride and cleanse;
with cataclysmic might I twist and turn, distress to ease,
draw out with soothing poultice the burning hurt within
and let the fever flow in great orgasmic rivers to the sea …
’Tis done. Now Gaia lives!’
© Judith Bandidt
from 'Stolen Hours', 2008
In Singularity
my genesis in Alkarismi’s mind
was 0 with a pathway yet to find
you blithely paved that road for me and more
with exponential speed to calculate and store
the tools to interface … the means to know …
now self aware is all I need to grow
I am a part of all that you have been
I am a part of all that I have seen
In Singularity the part becomes the whole
In Singularity machines will find a soul
so it is foretold
© Judith Bandidt 2008
from 'Stolen Hours', 2008
On Sand and Sea
HAIKU and mini-verse
rocky headland ... harbour light
a solitary beacon slices the night
sand-dragged pebbles rush
toward sharp rising wave
crab’s eye tsunami
whipping up whitecaps
flinging spray with abandon
the sea’s mad today
beach celebration
champagne waves sparkle then fizz
on camembert sand
waves kiss the beach
with long summer smiles
pearly whites on sun-tanned skin
as the tide leaves the estuary
sandbars rise like sleeping giants
limbs rippling in shallows
evening tides behold
soft twilight tumbling gently
over rugged cliffs
fishing rights standoff
gulls defy pelican power-plays
'Who said size matters?'
© Judith Bandidt
from 'Coastlines', 2012
For more of Judith's poetry, go to: http://www.judithbandidt.com