Poems by Susie Faint
Once was a garden…
with a bush-house that leaned
screening paths weaving borders
haphazard between
a patchwork mosaic, tangle of green.
Mum’s vegetable plots with bulging side seams
hid a rickety fence with not much to do
but conceal next-door’s bananas from view.
To the right of the bush-house
not to be undermined,
dad’s toolshed did battle
with the neighbour’s pink vine.
Now, mum’s favourite password, albeit a phrase,
‘down to the garden for a minute or two’
undoubtedly meant, as everyone knew,
she’d be off with the fairies, into the blue,
perhaps tend a trellis of fragrant sweet pea,
squish grubs and grasshoppers anxious to feed
on beans or tomatoes destined for tea,
pick a fresh lettuce before it might seed,
and with luck find a pumpkin … if she followed the bees.
She might trim begonias, smell roses, dig weeds,
water the bush-house reclined ten degrees,
visit African violets, far planets of fern,
discover an orchid or re-pot a stray worm.
In a back-yard in Brisbane, now too long ago,
once was a garden where all of us learned
the purpose of pleasures in treasures that bloom,
the glory of green … with the snap of a bean …
Susie Faint © 2019
Re: Rod’s mother, her garden 117 Rode Rd, Wavell Heights, Brisbane,
and dad’s car-shed where he kept tools and painted furniture.
The pretty pink antigonon vine which I loved unfortunately disappeared.
quite early in the morning
I saw the pale light creeping
through the curtains of our van …
and while others were still sleeping
two notes pure yet fleeting
rose from the iron-barks outside…
so I stole out to ‘just be’
at the beginning part of day
to watch the soft greys gleaned by country glow
and while others were still sleeping
the breath of dawn, house-keeping,
swept the cobwebbed-dew to far-away …
it appeared there was no one else around …
till I spied in misty hollows, wild geese in pecking pairs
and in a paddock, spellbound
the chestnut and a bay …
but my reverie was broken by a wagtail on a rail
when his tiching drew attention to a riot of furry tails
all five were happy-wagging out of tune
to a melody ascending from those iron-barks close-by …
did I jump at my own shadow
or feel the sudden heat
when I turned to glimpse the birthing of that day …
the fiery blaze ballooning
orange-bright its silent blooming
and floating on the hilltop
it filled the sky …
Susie Faint © 2016
Rufous Fantail
Low in the undergrowth, when the forest is quiet
Listen for tinkles, fleeting but bright
A wafting of jingles in warm dappled light
Before Rufous Fantail darts into sight
Rufous skips, twirls, flicks his fan wide
Flits, twists, fans side to side
Until this synergy of dance and light
Ignites to a rich copper glow
More than a ritual- this is ashow
With Rufous ablaze in a fan-dan-go
Susie Faint © 2018
with a bush-house that leaned
screening paths weaving borders
haphazard between
a patchwork mosaic, tangle of green.
Mum’s vegetable plots with bulging side seams
hid a rickety fence with not much to do
but conceal next-door’s bananas from view.
To the right of the bush-house
not to be undermined,
dad’s toolshed did battle
with the neighbour’s pink vine.
Now, mum’s favourite password, albeit a phrase,
‘down to the garden for a minute or two’
undoubtedly meant, as everyone knew,
she’d be off with the fairies, into the blue,
perhaps tend a trellis of fragrant sweet pea,
squish grubs and grasshoppers anxious to feed
on beans or tomatoes destined for tea,
pick a fresh lettuce before it might seed,
and with luck find a pumpkin … if she followed the bees.
She might trim begonias, smell roses, dig weeds,
water the bush-house reclined ten degrees,
visit African violets, far planets of fern,
discover an orchid or re-pot a stray worm.
In a back-yard in Brisbane, now too long ago,
once was a garden where all of us learned
the purpose of pleasures in treasures that bloom,
the glory of green … with the snap of a bean …
Susie Faint © 2019
Re: Rod’s mother, her garden 117 Rode Rd, Wavell Heights, Brisbane,
and dad’s car-shed where he kept tools and painted furniture.
The pretty pink antigonon vine which I loved unfortunately disappeared.
quite early in the morning
I saw the pale light creeping
through the curtains of our van …
and while others were still sleeping
two notes pure yet fleeting
rose from the iron-barks outside…
so I stole out to ‘just be’
at the beginning part of day
to watch the soft greys gleaned by country glow
and while others were still sleeping
the breath of dawn, house-keeping,
swept the cobwebbed-dew to far-away …
it appeared there was no one else around …
till I spied in misty hollows, wild geese in pecking pairs
and in a paddock, spellbound
the chestnut and a bay …
but my reverie was broken by a wagtail on a rail
when his tiching drew attention to a riot of furry tails
all five were happy-wagging out of tune
to a melody ascending from those iron-barks close-by …
did I jump at my own shadow
or feel the sudden heat
when I turned to glimpse the birthing of that day …
the fiery blaze ballooning
orange-bright its silent blooming
and floating on the hilltop
it filled the sky …
Susie Faint © 2016
Rufous Fantail
Low in the undergrowth, when the forest is quiet
Listen for tinkles, fleeting but bright
A wafting of jingles in warm dappled light
Before Rufous Fantail darts into sight
Rufous skips, twirls, flicks his fan wide
Flits, twists, fans side to side
Until this synergy of dance and light
Ignites to a rich copper glow
More than a ritual- this is ashow
With Rufous ablaze in a fan-dan-go
Susie Faint © 2018
