Paul Fearne

January 1, 2011 / mascara / 0 Comments

Paul Fearne is a poet and philosopher working and residing in Melbourne, Australia. His poems have appeared in a number of journals including Westerly, Stylus, Unusual Work and verb-ate-him. His philosophical work has appeared in journals such as Consciousness Literature and the Arts. He is currently undertaking a PhD in Philosophy and LaTrobe University, and has completed a Master’s degree from the University of Melbourne.

 

 

 

A Dream of Coral

let the light of our hesitation bend around the moon
                           and clothe the sea in memories
             let the sound of the morning
sweep this cloud of butterflies
             into the uncertainty of tomorrow

there is a pause in the turning of the sky
              it marks the sorrow the birds feel
that the winter has forgotten its home
                            and the snow is reticent to melt

              a sea horse searches for its past
but the future is all it knows
                                        and in time
it will become a dream of coral
                           and wander further
             than it ever has before

 

The Regrets of Dragon Flies

a clothes line whirls in the breeze
                          on it
              sway pegged dreams
and the regrets of dragon flies

              a rustling catches our ears
it is the litter of autumn
              and the wandering of our fears

in a rain that has not fallen for a thousand years
              the simplicity of our forgetting
                             curls in a gentle mist
              and reminds us
that the last wish of a starfish
                             is all the dawn needs
to chase away the morning’s cobwebs
                            and their gentle intransigence

                            a nervous pride of clouds
(a fellowship that has never known a moments rest)
               gather up our best intentions
and scatter them throughout  the sea
and into the hopes of time
                             as she whispers the trembling names
                of all those lost silences
that have kept us searching
searching for the dust of the night’s companionship
                              and the kind wisps of longing
that sleep in the ancient abbey
we once knew as our home