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Poetry

- Poems by Suzanne Ortuso -

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Hobart Town Hall - 62 Hobart Eisteddfod 2012

Splintered shafts of winter light glisten on Town Hall chandeliers

The room is quiet.

Reverend in its memories of past performance

Legacy of great artists

Amy Sherwin was a ‘Tasmanian nightingale’

Singing on the Town Hall stage in 1887

To an overflowing audience of four thousand admirers

Midst fireworks, cheers and peals of bells from Trinity Church

Splintered shafts of light glisten on chandeliers

The grand room lies in readiness for childish voices to grace its stage again

Waiting in hope of unveiling a new ‘Tasmanian Nightingale’

To join the legacy of great artists.

2012

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Margate

I love to live inn Margate as seasons come and go

When winter comes there’s misty days and hillsides capped with snow

Spring brings forth new gifts to share, and sounds of bird song fill the air

Sun kissed meadows glistening streams, Stars at night chase golden moonbeams

In my tree house way up high, I watch sweet summer passing by

I wish these days would never end as autumns round the river bend

And yet it too brings special days of rustling leaves and morning haze

Reminding all that winter soon will come one snowy afternoon.

2010

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Audition

I remember well that beautiful spring day,

An ordinary day, A Saturday, no school

Just endless hours perched high in a backyard tree with my poetry book and Birdsong

Sometimes I joined in singing their calls and trills,

If I kept very still pretending not to notice

One or two would quietly fly into my folded arms,

Content in morning sun

‘Come down now’ mother called from garden path

‘It’s time for a bath and pretty dress

I’ve a surprise – you’ll never guess’

It was a beautiful spring day,

An ordinary day, a Saturday no school

A train trip, a grey stone house, a greeting by tall gentleman with long white hair

‘Are you aware Madam, I accept students only by audition?’

‘To be fair’ mother cried ‘She has ambition’! My eyes grey wide, I wanted to hide

‘Can you sing something’ the old man muttered

‘Bird song’ I stuttered

It was a beautiful spring day

An extraordinary day a Saturday no school

The kind wrinkled face of a singing master seated at grand piano

Guiding me through scales and tones as high as birdsong

And mother’s eyes full of hope and delight

As the teacher arose from his stool

Quietly took mother’s hand in his, kissed it and announced

‘Madam, All’s to begin’

2009

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Ghost

Theatre lights dimmed as the curtain arose

A chorus appeared singing ‘Anything Goes’

A musical evening starring ‘Aunt Mavis’

Our family seated with tickets she gave us

I’d given good reasons not wanting to go

‘A cultural evening will help you to grow’

Said mum, as she dressed me in black tie and suit

At least she excused me from practicing flute

As I blissfully dozed in my comfortable seat

I felt something prodding and grabbing my feet

Gently lifting me up in the air

A ghostly figure cried ‘come if you dare’

All of a sudden he said ‘Fred’s my name

Ghost of the Royal I’m not new to fame

In ‘84 with the theatre ablaze

I saved what l could, I was famous for days’

‘I ran to the stage and lowered the curtain

It’s firewall saved the hall- that’s for certain

Now for your pleasure please be my guest

Hold on and enjoy the ride, I’ll do the rest’

Into the circle and up to the dome

Past sculptures and cupids he showed me his home

Then backstage we ventured and into the pit,

Past sconces and music stands, piano and drum kit

‘Aunt Mavis was marvellous’, mum said with elation

As everyone rose for a standing ovation

Fred shook my hand as he whispered ‘good by

Its been fun my friend but now I must fly’

Theatre lights shone as we entered the aisle

‘I really enjoyed it’ I said with a smile

But safely at home and tucked warm in my bed

I felt something pulling and prodding my leg

2008

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I belong to the world

My heart lives in many places faces

In my mind’s eye span continents

Faces from the past are etched on a myriad of emotions

I live to learn, to give comfort and peace

A moment of joy in a wilderness of sorrow to borrow

From great minds words that bind humanity in

Goodness, sincerity and love

2008

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Eisteddfod

Melodic scales, vocalize, lows and highs, teacher’s wise

Breath support, you’ve been taught, concentrate, emulate

Vocalize, teacher’s wise

Feelings count, tensions mount, emotion first, endless thirst

Use your eyes, teacher’s wise

Perform your best, forget the rest, works been done, battle’s won

Bare your soul, achieve your goal

Through lows and highs, teacher’s wise

2001

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Dog

Mum said I couldn’t have a dog. 'The backyard is far too small

And ‘who’ll take him for walks and play ball’

I wanted to tell her I felt lonely sometimes, and needed a friend

But no matter how I cried and tried, mum just wouldn’t bend

One day an old stray wandered into our garden

He was spotted brown and black, I called him Zack

He came each day to play behind the shed with me,

In places where mum couldn’t see

When the holidays came, mum said I could fish in the creek

She packed lunch and ordered me home by three

We had great fun just Zack and me

All of a sudden the sky grew dark

Heavy rain began to fall down

We ran so fast I tripped on a log

I fell asleep there, guarded by the dog

When I opened my eyes, I was safe and warm in bed

‘An old dog dragged you home by your shirt’, mum said

‘He’s sound asleep by the fireplace,

We’ll look after him’ she smiled, with relief on her face

2007

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Gift

Have you noticed the rose bud, blood red on the mantelpiece, or the golden

glow from the hearth, or the laugh and melancholy of someone close

Have you explored the outer reaches of imagination or walked in rain,

embraced moments of struggle, endured their pain

Have you smiled at the old man, lonely in the park, or thrown a coin to

Sunday buskers, trying to impress

Craved solitude for creation’s sake, searched endlessly for its murmuring

Have you smelt the pages of an old book, or new book

Felt the unexpected touch of a lover’s hand and sand between toes on a winter beach

Where dreams are shaped as tides ebb & flow

Have you sang the last lied or the first, rehearsed life’s manuscript with a free mind to find meaning

Sat by the glimmer of candlelight through the long hours of evening

Waiting, waiting

2008

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Moonlight

Splintered shafts of light peep through the attic window

Stirring me from dream beginnings

Moonlight gleams

In this half light of memory and imagination

I see his old face, wrinkled, smiling, kind

He was my singing teacher, preacher of times past

‘The golden age’ of purity

‘Discipline’

Voices from the soul where sound begins and ends

He was master of solfege and inspiration

Shafts of light stream before me in a soliloquy of bewilderment

Flashlights of cameras, photos, interviews

Town Hall chandeliers, masterclass neons

Captured moments of grandeur

But I am a child

Moonlight pours onto my bed, at its foot a book lately read

‘Singers of renown’ Callas, Tebaldi, Melba

With heavy head of childish thoughts, glimpses of secrets

God holds dear

I revel in the moonlight of this moment and dream

2008

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Child song

Sweet charm of child song breathes life into spring air,

Music’s poetry and eloquence create soft moments to share,

No graces match the quiet bliss of youth’s refrain,

For a moment pause, feel music’s spell, it’s power to move

Music arouses every passion and inspires,

All who hear it, greater joy acquires

No graces match the quiet bliss of youth’s refrain,

Revere this moment, feel music’s spell, it’s power to move

2008

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For Jenny

Music

Living as softly hummed tunes or thought in the mind

Soothing, exhilarating, comforting,

Source of freedom

As a bird soaring

Music

Living in the sounds of child song

Unique voices, innocent, profound

Source of freedom

As a bird soaring

Music,

Alive from ages past,

When a shepherd panned his sorrowful lament

Blending music into time

As a sound soaring

1999

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Serenity

Through disappearing dusk comes serenity

Free form, shadow less calm,

Offers solace to the lonely heart where solitude resides

And Handel of a world long past

Asks ‘Art thou troubled’?

Who does not seek serenity

A spiritual place where pure thoughts pave a path

To ultimate change

Where Handel of a world long past

Writes of the plane tree

A returning ebb tide brings serenity

Sea birds fly home as light dulls

And moon shadows dance minuets on the glistening shore

Intricate patterns of night emerge

Slowly stars mass overhead as I rush home to watch a horror movie on tv

2000

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Mischa Burlacov 1884 - 1965

Founder of the first Australian Ballet Company

As recalled by my teacher

His studio was situated underground

Along the esplanade of Circular Quay

Down steep dark stairs sudden illumination

Disclosed candle lit glass enclosures

Displaying ballet costumes he said were ‘Pavlovas’

He sat in a fraying tapestry cloth armchair

A stocky figure clasping a long cane

Beautiful face, years etched in thick lines

Deep set blue eyes piecing bright

Long red scarf, waistcoat, worn black ballet shoes

The room smelt stale of sweat, moist hair, amongst other odours

Dancers crave, for belonging of place

Nearby a corner embellished with ancient piano, sat Eva, alert

Draped in long sequined cape, costume jewellery and black lace

Awaiting Mischa’s commands

The glow of flickering candelabra from the piano

Cast textured patterns on decaying whitewash walls

In quietude, no words spoken, class warmed up, stretching

Arm and leg beyond their strength preparing mind and soul

For a glimpse of ‘genius’ that was the old man

Mischa’s greeting came after first exercises at barre

Raising his cane to demand attention speaking softly

‘You are here to work to your potential to gain technique, pride

For the ultimate prize, personal satisfaction

Beyond that is illusion’

2009

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How

In what manner does love enter our being,

At first a conjurer changing dormant emotion into turbulent disorder,

A masquerade of heightened fancy,

An imaginary illusionist, an imperious intruder

Then, after a whirlpool of impassioned torment,

Love seeks definition, diffusion.

In what manner does love offer solace,

In it’s purest form, when acceptance of its reality and many colors

Elevate the heart to a special place,

Free of boundaries and conditions, a single majic,

That can lead us to a path of power to transcend

Even deaths embrace

2000

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Remembrance

Genius prone, that’s us,

Living in a chasm of life few understand,

The dwelling place of melancholy,

Once accepted, never the same.

Where challenge and obstacle are inseparable companions

Obscure thought demands obedient tolerance

No comfort zone to console, only a childhood remembrance.

Genius prone, that’s us.

Empowered with choices behind a comfortable surface

Invisible to all but the mind’s eye

Ceaseless encouragement to create a masterpiece

Where none exists,

Self sacrifice to achieve the highest ideals

No comfort zone to console, only a childhood remembrance.

2000

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Violin Man

He welcomed me in with words of goodwill

A gentleman introducing himself as Phil

A collector in the musical instrument sphere

I had come for a purchase to start my career

The room housed a piano covered with scores

Of operas and music in numerous drawers

Unstrung violas lay scattered around

Like unsung soldiers waiting for sound

Cellos like guards stood in corners upright

Polished and gleaming caretaking the sight

The ambience elevated this joyous occasion

Appreciative I felt to be in his persuasion

The ceiling was hung with brass coloured hooks

Each held a violin in various nooks

Covering the floor boards in uneven measures

Were numerous books housing numerous treasures

He offered me tea or a glass of red wine

Then proceeded to play for me what could be mine

The choice was onerous to say the least

Made even more so as his playing increased

Violins lined up - some new some repaired

All seeking an owner to love - one who cared

Who respected the mellowing tone caused by years

Being used to interpret masters love sweat and tears

I couldn’t decide I was not a musician

Of calibre able to make this decision

I asked him to choose I was still but a student

He grinned as he promised me he would be prudent

He fell deep in thought as we drank the red wine

Considering me for what seemed a long time

At last I was handed the one he selected

The case looked so old I felt quite dejected.

He refused any payment saying it was his duty

To pass on an instrument of infinite beauty

To be kept in safe keeping down through the ages

Loved and maintained throughout life’s many stages

I departed that day feeling none the wiser

Maturity and years have been my advisor

Now at the end of my brilliant career

I reflect on his wisdom - the duty is clear

Dedicated to Philip Taylor

2016

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Evening at Plenty

Left at the New Norfolk sign post

On through endless rolling hills, crimson peaks outlined in late afternoon sun

Quickly losing frail warmth, disappearing into distant ravines

Narrow winding roads edging around ancient jagged mountainsides

Damp earth awaiting darkness

Suddenly a valley stretches in front of me

Vast low lying river, ever flowing, rushing downstream carrying branches and debris in monotonous rhythm

Through distant fog I see the farmhouse. A lone yellow light flickering quietly through thick forest gums illuminate vague human outlines – waving welcoming family figures standing on the porch

A barefoot child greets me at the gate bursting with news “guess what’s for tea – Dad killed a lamb this arvo and it’s in the oven – Mum’s made treacle pudding, custard too and chocolate cake for supper”

“School bus wont come if it snows tonight – Oh please can we stay up” the children chant

A neighbor stops by, says the river’s high – stays for tea and a hand of cards

Too soon fire’s ember warns me of the approaching hour, laden down with eggs and country fare I bid farewell

Travelling cautiously I enjoy the dark and still, ready to stop for a dawdling porcupine, a stunned wallaby

Turning into the highway I merge with city traffic

Billowing grey smoke from the paper mill rises forth in front of me

My thoughts turn to the realities of the new week

2016

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Dedicated to Josephine

Pearls of glistening raindrops on my window lie

Clouds are gathering quickly, lightning flashes by

Birds are scurrying back to nest and safety in the eaves

Gentle wind turns westerly and rustles through the trees

Thunder rolls around the hills, the woods begin their sigh

Across the valley dark descends I hear an Eagle cry

Through specs of light hail smashes down the landscape turns to white

From my attack window I enjoy this wondrous night

2016

Da Angelo

The best place for pizza and a glass of fine red

On a trip to Hobart, the brochure read

A freelance reviewer as yet unknown

First stop da Angelo my new skills to hone

The ambience immediate as I entered the door

Past take away crowds and children galore

Licking gelato with joyous expression

In an instant I felt an enormous regression

He seated me quickly shook hands passed the menu

My pen at the ready scrawled ‘what a great venue

Atmosphere, music, smells could not be better'

In front of me promptly a plate of’ bruschetta

Piping hot garlicky olive pieces

One after one my great hunger increase- ed

My writing aside I ordered four courses

I’m thinking there’s something in alien forces

Gnocchi spaghetti veal dishes supreme

Each morsel a mouthful a gastronome’s dream

The merriment heightened as tiramisu’

Was served by Angelo, out of the blue

Offering thanks and explaining my visit

My review expressing ‘the place is exquisite

The pasta ‘al dente’ cooked to perfection

The menu holds pages of every selection’

I could not express what I’d felt in that place

Nor the genuine welcome I’d seen in his face

Whilst not a Michelin star to be seen

In my book da Angelo’s the restaurant queen

2016

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