~ Eunice Perkins ~




Click or scroll for Eunice's poems:

Song of the Nor'West Wind

Blackbird

Myna Bird

Still Lake



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Song of the Nor'West Wind



An aching wind, heart-breaking wind
That moans across the plain.
A lonely wind, an only wind
Sobs solitary refrain.

A sighing wind, a crying wind
That bows the sunripe grain.
A yearning wind, a burning wind
That mops up summer rain.

A wistful wind, not blissful wind
That calls to days gone by.
A longing wind, sad songing wind
That drones across the sky.

A gusty wind, a lusty wind
That wafts the scent of hay.
A haunting wind, a taunting wind
Goes searching on its way.

A wearying wind, soul-searing wind
Hums melancholy song.
A restless wind, a nestless wind
Forever moving on.



© Copyright 1971 Eunice Perkins


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Blackbird


The sun shone on his plumage
As he soared the paddock edge,
Black feathers shining, glossy,
As he flew across the hedge,
And from his happy wing-beats
The joy of living flowed...
But he left the field of safety
And he ventured o'er the road.

I was travelling on the highway,
I was driving there at speed.
I had no thought of slowing
For I did not see the need.
Quick as a flash I spied him
From the corner of my eye,
And I heard the blow that struck him...
Little blackbird of the sky.

From my mirror looking backwards
The reflected image showed
Feathers glistening in the sunlight,
Plumage black upon the road,
Little body lying broken,
And my heart within me cried
That I should have been the agent
Of the pointless way he died.



© Copyright 1992 Eunice Perkins



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Myna Bird



Myna bird, myna bird,
How could you so malign a bird?
You'll never see a finer bird
On either land or sea.
Note how regally I walk,
How nobly bear your cruel talk.
You'll never hear a raucous squawk
From such a bird as me!

Myna bird, myna bird,
There's no one could design a bird,
Not one that could outshine a bird
As ravishing as I.
My plumage is so beautiful,
So gloriously suitable,
A fact that's irrefutable
To a discerning eye.

While other aviators do
Lie down and die in front of you,
Leaving their remains in view
In inconsiderate mode,
When you in your motor ride
I stroll genteelly to the side.
Your by-laws I have not defied
By littering your road.

Myna bird, myna bird,
There is no diviner bird,
I am the Rex Regina bird,
The sovereign of the sky.
As of right I take my place
As ruler of the feathered race,
Who bow to my majestic grace
And from my presence fly.

There's no bird that is cheerier,
I am so far superior,
Those starlings are inferior...
Who'd want to hear their song?
I am the graceful myna bird.
Your hurtful slander is absurd,
And so, to have the final word...
Your prejudice is wrong!



© Copyright 1994 Eunice Perkins


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Still Lake



Deep alpine, cool lacustrine
Emerald chameleon
In whose arms lies the mirrored skies,
An ever-changing ceiling.
Around the lake small ripples break
Amongst the swaying reeds,
Hem of its shores, they grow in scores,
A mass of water weeds.

The sun seems dead as overhead
Deep blankets spun of mist
Laid 'neath his feet deflect his heat,
His solar rays resist.
A sombre day of weary gray
Peers down with brooding face.
The still lake its reflections make,
Heaven's contours trace.

Then thick clouds part...a stabbing dart
Of gold streaks through the skies.
Straight as an arrow through the narrow
Vapour tunnel flies
A golden beam, a molten stream,
Borne by an aerial porter.
The burnished light that glances bright
Dances on the water.


© Copyright 1992 Eunice Perkins


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