not drowning waving

JUNE 13, 2012 11:10PM

Lane Cove River

Rate: 37 Flag

IMG_2169 

Heron was the first to see,

around the southern bend they came ... click ... click ... click ...

Water dragons dropped from logs, swimming into shade.

... click ... click ... click ...

Among the deep cool greens along the bottom platypus, 

eels, perch, turtles paused ...

... click ... click ... click ...

Up above the banks in caves, sand extinguished fires,

Turramurra eyes and ears turned south, louder now :

... Click ... Click ... Click ...   Click .... Click .... Click ....

The heron flew, a parrot screeched a baby cried, suckled quick,  

Muskets readied, click, click ... click.

 

...  CLICK ... CLICK ... CLICK.  

CLICK ... CLICK ... CLICK .....

 

For forty thousand years we flowed, these people and I ...

 

The clicking stopped. A hollow, wooden rattle

of oars on the floor of a boat ~ a sound I've come too well to know ~

echoed in my valley, the boat swung circles in my current.

It was very quiet, just the lapping of water on chines, and then :

"Blimey. Place gimme the chills," the boat was rowed away again ...

... click ... click ... click ...  click ...   ...

O, they came back ... O. They came back.

 

 

lanecoveriverpic:kg

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Bravo, Mr. Gamble! A fine addition to Kate's challenge roster.
It's like I'm there. for some reason......
Really quite eery, actually.
rated
Kim, this just thrills me no end. You write beautifully of the discovery/surveying of the river not long after the First Fleet arrived. I love the references to the Aboriginal people on the banks and our native wildlife and marine life. But I love more how you became the river ...

The clicking stopped. A hollow, wooden sound,
of oars on the floor of a boat ~ a sound I've come too well to know ~
echoed in my valley, the boat swung circles in my current.
It was very quiet, just the lapping of water on chines, and then :
"Blimey. Place gimme the chills", the boat was rowed away again ...
... click ... click ... click ...
O, they came back ... O. They came back.


Yes, they came back ... and here we are.

This was special, Kim. Thank you.
oh lovely. I love your stories and poems. I can feel the heat in them. and I can see.

....a platypus!!

(my freelance studio was named platypus. :D)
Came back again to read and sit with this ... and the river that saw and heard it all ....
It feels timeless and enduring what comes and goes, separate but a part of all the life around it. Really lovely, I feel soothed.
Hi Poor Woman, & thank you !
Your current wildfire post reminded me how often the Lane Cove River valley has gone up, right in Sydney, along with the houses people built close to the edge.
There's more on this river here ( my second-ever OS post ) :
http://open.salon.com/blog/kimhunterg/2009/11/09/so_i_bought_a_canoe

Thanks, Kate, & thanks for the 'challenge.'
If you're wondering where the name of the river in the poem is, it's Turramurra, a little further north, but the source.
Europeans called it Lane Cove after somebody back in England.

Hi monkey ! Great name for a studio too :-)

Thanks Bleue. Timeless is the word. The part along the river where I grew up is called Killara, which means 'permanent, always there.'
I'm glad you enjoyed.
Such beauty, annihilated by:

"Muskets readied, click, click ... click.

... CLICK ... CLICK ... CLICK ..."




It went that way on this continent too. Sometimes I woder if it could have played out some other way, but then I reflect on the nature of my race and realize probably not.
wonder, not "woder." Christ, my eyes are giving out on me. I see perfectly at anything beyond about 4 feet, but anything closer is all fuzzy. Getting old sucks.
It wouldn't kill you to get some glasses.
I use the cheapo ones from the chemist ~ what you call a "drugstore."
Pie floaters are good too.
Yes about the muskets. I don't know if it's a race thing ~ Eora were pretty efficient at killing people too, but they had well-established boundaries. The English didn't. I think it's a cultural thing.
Yeah, the Iroquois and the Sioux and the Apache and lots of others of our native folk were accomplished killers too. They took torture of captured enemies to a level of refinement that makes Europeans look like pikers, but that doesn't excuse the hypocrisy with which we exterminated them here. Manifest Destiny? Pure blathering propaganda, never mind that we really did believe it at the time.

Regarding floaters, please reference my latest comment on Marjie's post.
I meant pie floaters are good for your eyes.
They don't help you to see any better but they're very warm.
Thanks, Kim. I had wondered ... I knew the river was in the title and I know Turramurra as the town. I learn something every day!

: )
I have some peas in the freezer, am now applying them to my eyeballs...
The chanting, then stilled silence, is mesmerizing. Well done sir.
I can get a picture in my head. Beautiful place. Do you have plants that need fire to grow? Ex. There is a flower in Virginia, I think, that was presumed to be going extinct. It turns out that it needed fire to burn the husk off of the seed so it could germinate, which they found out after a fire when the flower burst forth and covered the forest. Now they do controlled burns in the area.
Eerie and beautiful.

I've never been to Australia, but I imagine this place is just that, eerie and beautiful.
Lovely...
click...click...click

~r~
A liquid and flowing piece here Kim. Nice rhythm in the oar stroke. :D
Very fine Kim, visual in the best way.
Blimey, indeed. Y'all get on outta here with your clickclickclick!
I think without your knowledge and feeling for your land it would be difficult to compete. I prefer, in this case, to observe.
Done to perfection. r
Beautiful as always, Kim. ~r
We see river as the metaphor for life, and you do it exceptionally well, Kim.
L'Heure's comment almost exactly. Loved this, Kim. Felt as if I was floating.
Reminds me of home -- and that's always a good thing. That photo could have taken right up the road from me on the Tellico River, save that I don't see any mountains in the background.
I love the sound of "Killara", as well as its meaning. Somethings are just so in our lives, even if we aren't. That's what gives strength and a sense of belonging.

R♥
And, why are you not published as a poet/author?
The "click click click(s)" lend an air of foreboding to this poem, Kim. The humans are returning with their muskets, I presume . . . Rated.
dianaani, thank you.

Hi Phyllis'
Plenty of plants here need fire/smoke, even, to germinate ~ banksias, grevilleas & acacias mainly ( spectacular flowers ) ~ I think you'd like this site :
http://www.wildflowersofaustralia.com.au/Home/tabid/37/Default.aspx
Controlled burns & even wildfires have been used by indigenous people here for millennia ; lately we're getting the hang of it too.

V.Corso, you must visit.
If you go down to Chile, & cast off on a balsa raft, the current will eventually land you here.
Eerie & beautiful in places, but over-all friendly. Comfortable, too.

Heidi hi ~ thank you :-)

Patrick,
thanks,
I'm glad you enjoyed.

Hi tg.
I'm glad you caught that rhythm.

Thanks, Rita.

Chicken Maaaan,
That's the sound of rowlocks, not beaking-shears, relax.

Thanks Ande. I hope you enjoy. Looking forward to other poems in this challenge too.
Came back for another relaxing read-through......
R
Thanks, Joan :-)

John it's a beautiful metaphor ~ Pandora ( above ) picked up on it too.

Hi fernsy,
I'm glad. Thanks.

Tom,
I knew I'd recognise you on some river somewhere ...
Cordle/Sawyer, what the hell.
We don't have mountains here ~ they all got worn away. True.

Fusun,
Such a beautiful comment. Thank you.

Razzle,
I'm too busy being a Illustrator :-)

Erica,
I'm glad you got got the foreboding ... in the end, the English didn't need muskets. The diseases they brought proved sufficient.
I see your picture and I simply want to love it ...
I read your words and ... I can hardly breathe ...
A while longer ... with this ... with all of this ...
holding thoughts of ... forty thousand ... years ...
hearing ... hearing ... the river's ... your river's ... voice ...
the sounds that snuff out life and even me thinks at the end in the swirling boat but then....a memory(?) I can hear it echo in the caverns...
Thanks, anna1liese.

& Anne, thank you.
Try thole pins Kim, or unpin the oar from the oar locks ( so you can feather them)... much, much quieter and more pleasurable to row that way. In winter, (when I lived up north anyway) in strong winds and choppy or breaking waves, it was the only way. A fixed oar and you'd be awash in the icy grey.

*(¿nana; isn't that a Catholic punishment... frozen peas I mean?)
'' O, they came back ... O. They came back.'' ..Your work gave me some very strong feelings . Rated .
Interrobang, I googled 'thole pins,' then clicked on Images ~ what beautiful pictures !
Thanks for that ; I had no idea.

Thanks for the read, Olga :-)
Of they came back......and so will I!

Kim...loving the feel you emote out of me!!!

Nice nice work!
oh the ywill come back...and so will I

Darned fat fingers of mine.
Horrible stuff can begin so quietly. I liked how you had the animals bail. They always know first.
Thanks JD !

Heron, they know. Even the ants know.
"...It was very quiet, just the lapping of water on chines ..."

There have been many times I've been out on 'our' boat and laid back in the lounge ... let myself drift off with the sound of nothing ... but the water lapping against the side of the boat ... it rocking me ... lulling me ...

It's a beautiful sound that ... "the lapping of water on chines".
Seeds for sale! I had never considered importing a bit of flora. There is a link on the page for gladysclancy who has posted pictures of the Kings Park Festival. Beautiful. Thanks for pointing me at them!
Extraordinary - calling up such powerful images. I really liked "A hollow, wooden rattle of oars on the floor of a boat" because I could hear it. I also thought of Jefferson Airplane's "Wooden Ships."
Killara ... permanent ... always there ...
Turramurra ... its source ...
all that breathes ... our lives ...

Moving from your picture ...
to your words ...
the river’s voice ...
all the river sees ...
feels ...
as it flows ...
with all who love it ... so ...
how you help her ... speak ...
how you help us feel ...
what she feels for ...
those who have been near ...
flowing with her ...
honouring her permanence ...
her always ... being ... there ...
as still ... the heron ... sees ...
breathing ... with this river ... your river ... now ...
breathing ... loving ...
whole ...
permanent ...
always ... there ...
loving as she loves ...
aching ... as she ... aches ...
such is truly ...
love ...
Kate : " ... water lapping on chines,"
" ... messing about in boats." Echo, echo ...
:-)

Phyllis, do it. Leschnaultia & Paper Daisy in particular. You won't be sorry. Promise. Do it now.

Thanks nilesite ~ I only know CS&N Wooden Ships, will look for Grace now. Anything wooden or sounding like wood, I'm there.

anna1liese ... & the herons came back ... :-)
Is this the water you speak of at the end of your street growing up?
Reminds me of Eight.
This is the river, Rita, but Eight was set in Sugarloaf Bay, another of Sydney Harbour's reaches. I wrote 2 Cat Diary there.
That's saltwater ; Lane Cove River is fresh.
It flows still with them--and with you.

Don't know what the challenge was, but this is marvelous all on its own!
People.
We People.
I met a peasant.
She spoke English.
`
She ask me what you do.
She was a young child.
She studied English.
`
She said` You a worker.
You are thee `farmer.
Thanks for`Memory.
`
I was given a Sanskrit name.
It's a name I try to honor.`
`
Pure Intention.
I gave a chunk.
Honey Comb.
`
I handed Tai a pint.
Blueberries are good.
Thich Nhat Hanh said:
`
Your are very sweet.
I go walk near creek.
Why I cry as a baby?
`
I can't explain it.
'IT' is all good.
I tip my hat.
`
The hat is baby blue.

It reads in small letters.
`
Life is Good.
I stuck a poppy on it.
I found the hat on a beach.
The hat washed to the shore.
The red poppy has a black dot.
I think of blogger`Fusan A ` &
will walk along the C & O `River.
`
My o day . . .
Lovely ebb and flow to these words
~R~
Couldn't leave well enough alone, could they? Story of the human race.
This was ire. I felt like the Heron. Wanting to escape, but curious of the click click clicking sound until the end. Great tale.
R
Thanks, Mr Limb. Thanks for the read, & your comment.
“Timeless is the word. The part along the river where I grew up is called Killara, which means 'permanent, always there.'”

Pause ... breathe ...

May somehow there be a spell for all your words shared with us in this now sometimes open site ... so that they might for those who would come to find them and feel their freshness again ...
and again ... and again ...
remain ... permanent ... always there ...

Somehow ... as soon as you first offered them ... we cast the spell ... ourselves ... time only perhaps now ... for you ... to know ...