The two poems this week, shining light on the cycle of life and family, are both from Adelaide Hills painter and writer Robin Sinclair.
Inheritance
The twinkling eyes, perceptive and amused
have come down from his great-great-grandfather.
The family nose and chin,
famed in art for starring in the portraits of the past
have likewise left their mark,
making their entry from the other side.
As for the sense of humour,
who’s responsible for that?
Or the resilience,
or love of words and fear of heights?
How many generations has this smile survived intact
and can you trace its DNA?
Elizabeth
At ninety-one sleep comes too easily
or not at all.
Daytime in her chair
come lamb’s-wool moments of oblivion
a drifting in and out of consciousness
dream to reality…
but which is which?
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Late at night
the neighbours all asleep
she walks the friendly dark.
The roadside grasses stir and breathe.
Her soft old tread shuffles the moonlit dust
her stick taps out the time
and as she walks she chants
low to herself
the poems of her youth.
Robin Sinclair was a contributor to Poet’s Corner’s in its early Independent Weekly print days. She is a painter and writer and lives in the Adelaide Hills.
Readers’ original and unpublished poems up to 30 lines can be emailed, with postal address, to [email protected]. A poetry book will be awarded to each contributor.