as my time rolls on...

as my time rolls on
I find I'm giving
far less attention to
repetitive duties
and welcome
what I feel like doing

it's 2am + can't sleep
read
I have a fascinating idea
write

great weather = a great walk
wild weather = dare a great walk

my life's a barrel of fortune cookies

— 🇺🇦🌻Gemma Wiseman-on Wiradjuri land (@AuraGem) January 21, 2025

Californian fires...

For @aspenbrave.bsky.social our summer heat is invisible but wilting plants tell us life is weighty right now summer is the season of heat but your heat is fire anachronistic heat v. cold heat that destroys erases temporarily but even this heat cannot damn the stubborn drive to re-build

— Gemma Wiseman (@gemma77.bsky.social) 12 January 2025 at 11:43

mudlark soliloquy...

 

modelling a black and white number

is easy

but modelling a black and white number well

is quite another matter

I believe I am of the latter category

I practise

and practise

perhaps even in my sleep

that demonstrates how utterly addicted I am

to perfection 

but

I have not mentioned yet

that I model in many moods

there is the graceful glide in the air

with elegant speed

there is the catwalk strut

and then there is the

'get off my land' flash

alive with angry beauty

attested to by my accompanying shriek

I enjoy making my mark on the world

and enjoy keeping it that way too

a status quo

my way

no wonder I am honoured with a batch of names

magpie-lark

mudlark

and even

peewit and 

peewee 

in short

I am the very model of

feathered models

calling all angels for 2025...

just outside the door 

is 2025

at midnight

the door will unlatch and 

slide open

2024 will just be a shadow

cast by the self

2025 will be the new light

of hopeful wonder

it may be a universal door

but on opening, it reveals

many highways

many tracks

many mountains and valleys ahead

some visible

some invisible

all waiting to be owned

by choice

or by circumstance

all person specific

no matter race or age

to safely tread this testing wheel of time

to progress effectively

beyond the door

we need to simply keep walking

keep walking with our angels

our friendly angels of earth or spirit

our better angels

our personal

better angels

"...President Carter will never be far away – buried alongside Rosalynn next to a willow tree down the road, his memory calling all of us to heed our better angels." 

- Statement from the Obamas on the death of 100 year old President Jimmy Carter.

she surrounds herself with select people...

she surrounds herself
with select people
select people with arty intelligence

she hopes to tap into their skill
by osmosis
but arty intelligence involves
emotional intelligence
maybe wisdom
which sadly
she has none

her progress bows
to being
a victim of
others' journeys

— 🇺🇦🌻Gemma Wiseman-on Wiradjuri land (@AuraGem) July 31, 2024

you are going to find yourself again...

You are going to find yourself again
And again
And again https://t.co/8oQ62DzvS6

— 🇺🇦🌻Gemma Wiseman-on Wiradjuri land (@AuraGem) October 26, 2023

I may hear troubled times...

I may hear
troubled times
but may I keep believing
the beauty of roses
will bloom again
peace will reign in the street
and the welcome gate
can be open
with a smile#micropoetry pic.twitter.com/hh3WL7m0hE

— 🇺🇦🌻Gemma Wiseman-on Wiradjuri land (@AuraGem) October 26, 2023

silent angels...

so many fell

on the battlefields

of war

but so many

fell

later

inner scars

torments

festered

broke

the person who was

and left

the curse

of shrapnel

for them

the war was not over

it was far from over

but close by

there were those

who nursed

this shell of life

fighting still on a battlefield

only visible

to those who

tried to help

tried to understand

these were 

the war's

unsung heroes

bearing

untold stories

the war's

silent angels

P.S. This poem is in response to a moving story told today by a Temora woman of her family's experience with returned soldiers. 

For some, the war was not over, was not won...

For the silent angels, the battle had just begun...