Poetry on the Moon.

 How exciting! Two of my poems are going into the Lunar Codex, i.e. will be in a time capsule to be sent to the moon, on the initiative of my online friend and sometime mentor, Sam Peralta. (The person who taught me, among other things, not to be afraid of attempting sonnets – and then, the variety of sonnets one may attempt.) Further details of this project at the link below.

The #LunarCodex inducts into the Polaris time capsule the authors of dVerse Poets Pub's CHIAROSCURO anthology, edited by Björn Rudberg and Mary Grace Guevara
Polaris is targeted for the 2023 SpaceX / Astrobotic Griffin lander / NASA VIPER rover mission, headed for the Lunar South Pole.
* * Now indexed in https://www.lunarcodex.com/poetry * *

My poems in the book are:

At Mariner's Café

We like to call in here
on the way home from Kingscliff
or even Tweed Heads (a detour) to catch up
with our friend, the new manager
– and the coffee’s good.
So is the view of the river.

In late afternoon sun,
we sit back, leaning on the wall
of the antique shop next door.
I peer inside at nets and creels, ropes, 
huge balls of deep green glass
and steering-wheels in dark, polished wood.

I want to meet him, the shop owner,
to yarn with him and sniff the salty air –
this man who so loves boats. Our friend
wipes down our table. Another customer,
loud-mouthed, at last vacates. ‘That’s the man
from the shop,’ our friend mutters. We all grimace.


My Home River

Ah, river, river, silver river!
Island-born, I lived inland;
loved you, river,
even more than I did the foaming ocean.

Floated and swam in your slippery-smooth embrace: 
your delighted daughter
sunlit or shadowed, under trees overhanging the banks, or among         reeds,
or out in the exposed middle.
Each patch of river had its own 
separate, boundaried temperature: shiver-chill
or warm in a way that relaxed and expanded the blood.

River, river, my childhood river,
winding through my years, the first fifteen,
before I was moved too far away – 
pouring down the gorge, erupting in rock-punctuated torrents
or else spread like a lake, underneath fleets of little boats ...
you are my home, my love, my heart, 
if only in memory, still forever –
real river, dream river,
never lost, 
never forgotten.


Tamar river (Tasmania) from Brady's lookout (near Exeter). 
Original uploader was Kyle sb at en.wikipedia - 
Transferred from en.wikipedia
Released under the GNU Free Documentation License.