Clouds

Under altostratus clouds
on sandy bed recline,
Captive to the daylight's shrouds
frayed fractus underline.

Fine white ladies knuckles point
through gloves of blue grey gauze,
Choir of bass, far-flung, disjoint
resound with faint applause.

Altocumulus adorn
a northerly pelisse,
Freshly shorn, flayed and torn
the virgin side of fleece.

Air that's sated, drenched, replete
annoints with teardropp plash,
Daughter claimed by kiss on feet
then hand, then cheek, then lash.

[...] Read more

poem by Diane Hine
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Ephemeral Bloom (Acrostic Sonnet)

E ach day in cotton gloves, the artist worked
P erfecting gorgeous flowers made of silk
H armoniously hued and ever perked
E ternal, unlike fresh ones of their ilk
M eandering back home 'midst evening gloom
E ncounters in a sad neglected park
R etiring, non-attention seeking bloom
A nd feels a stirring of compassion spark
L ets dropp her wooly mitt and stoops to touch
B eneath the leaves, dropped petals slowly fade
L amenting tarnished loveliness nonesuch
O bliquely for a moment two lives braid
O ff hand there is no purpose for a glove
M ortality is tantamount to love.

poem by Diane Hine
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A Waltz

Our foxtrot wasn't good, but then again,
it wasn't bad before, alas, my heel
impaired that poor man's shin and yet I feel
that you were leading rather well ‘till then.

The Samba tempo's captivating thrall
seduced us to abandon Earthly care.
Our spirals had finesse and to be fair,
we only once collided with the wall.

And when I fell, I know you did not gloat,
that was instead, a sympathetic grin.
I swear, it was an accidental spin
which sadly brought my elbow to your throat.

And last, I lightly spun in blissful trance,
a waltz, goodnight and thank you for the dance.

poem by Diane Hine
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Sonnet 2: Mortal (Petrarchan)

The garden state of Eden soon proved stale
to plucky and inquisitive young Eve
So she decided she would rather leave
than have that boring status-quo prevail.
Now ever since we mope, be-moan and rail,
throw up our hands, tear out our hair and grieve
Pray fervently that there may be reprieve
from naughty-Eve inflicted mortal jail.
But may I say a word in her defence-
How could immortal life hold any charm,
when every game we play derives it's sense
from striving 'gainst the impetus of harm.
There could not be a purpose more intense
than racing to elude death's shrill alarm.

poem by Diane Hine
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Theory

Some vital aspect split our primate past
and heralded the rise of modern man,
The experts scan the intervening span
to pinpoint where exact the dice were cast.
An upright stance gave scope of spaces vast
and language lent ability to plan,
With strong-thumbed hands the use of tools began
and progress surged with fire's inflaming blast.
Yet these and more are surplus to our breed,
a single human feature formed our shape,
Dissatisfaction blazed us to the lead
and from a savage world we made escape.
Genetic restlessness and need did seed
triumphant man; The Discontented Ape.

poem by Diane Hine
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Sonnet: Ubiquitous love

U nless a living creature clones alone-
B esides the single-celled, it's rather rare,
I nherited biology has sewn
Q uiescent pairing instincts set to flare.
U niting every animal as kin
I n similar design, cells synthesize,
T ime-tested love concoctions made within
O ur cousins in their various disguise.
U ncomplicated impulse guides the small
S wift action's called for when one's span is short,
L ess hurried lives are swept by rise and fall
O f rhythmic waves which tip their paths athwart.
V ibrations shake the biosphere surround
E sprit of countless love affairs unbound.

poem by Diane Hine
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Some Clerihews

David Attenborough,
nature lover thorough
Intrepid explorer
of fauna and flora.

James Hansen
claims sanction
for future wealth,
grandchildren's health.

Richard Dawkins
grew four paw-fins
picked carte blanche
from ev'ry branch.

Julia Gillard,
duelling for bill hard
Save carbon tax
from Abbotts's axe.

[...] Read more

poem by Diane Hine
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Sonnet: Supercell Storm

S uppose two winds, free-flowing, north and west
U nruffled, one above and one below
P roduced a shearing interface which pressed
E ntrapping both in spinning vortex flow.
R otating updraft joins the spiralled pair
C louds billow, anvil-shaped in troposphere
E ffecting thunderstorm extraordinaire
L argesse of nature, tier on swelling tier.
L et lovers take the place of wayward winds
S ubverted by a touch and skyward thrust
T ormented in a maelstrom which rescinds
O bjective sense, tranquility and trust.
R egard with care a whirlwinds human form
M ercurial passions' mesocyclone storm.

poem by Diane Hine
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Sonnet: Transcendental

T he aliens appeared from some odd space
R esplendently from nowhere legerdemain.
A much enhanced adroit immortal race
N o longer plagued by wretchedness or pain.
S erene observers here to watch the play-
‘C haotic Earth', a tragedy by ‘Chance'.
E ntranced, they ached in some forgotten way
N egated by their consummate advance.
D o we detect a wistful backward gaze
E scapes their ideal eyes in last ‘goodbyes'?
N o mere immortal knows the way we blaze,
T ranscendent passions are the mortal's prize.
A mid the fear of loss, pure joy is found,
L ove's paradox to which all life is bound.

poem by Diane Hine
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Entanglement

A stream of photons hits a sheet of glass;
no reason some reflect while most go through.
A certain depth allows them all to pass;
the ones that go before must give a clue.
The photons harmonize, their gift is art.
They love to spread as waves and keep in touch.
Send two entangled photons far apart,
if one is read, the other knows as much.
Yet no communication goes between,
for nothing can exceed the speed of light.
And why do random photons trampoline
from glass, while random others last the flight?
Though Einstein thought that God does not throw dice,
seems Lucifer took contrary advice.

poem by Diane Hine
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