A Poetry Page - Renga

THE DREAMING DOG - a Renga by Chris McLean and John Wilson. 

(Though the classical form is not strictly adhered to here, its more renga than not, in my opinion.   In the first section Chris writes the haikus and John responds;  the text makes it clear when this pattern reverses halfway through.)

 

 

the dreaming dog;
on its nose -
a fulfilled mosquito

in the dreaming
the fulfilled soul

 

in the swollen river -
leaves, logs, plastic bottles
and a grey sky.

all returning to the sea
yet again

 

seeing my face -
for the first time, last time:
the mirror is getting older.

i we
live inside this frightening stranger.

 

lovers in the park,
the pigeons are cooing again:
winter - fading so soon?

so spins our lives ever faster
love dissolving time

 

the transport:
a black hole, ocean-bound,
in the harbour dawn.

drawing me
into the sun

 

along the lines
beads of glinting seawater
run home.

dancing the timeless dance
to love's song

 

awakened by the currawong's call:
my breathing belly -
rising falling, rising falling

i sit;
while lying down

 

pulling the blankets up
while lowering my back -
under the Milky Way!

laughing;
and thinking of chocolate

 

reaching upward,
sagging nappy,
she takes the biscuit.

my old friend gone
in the child reborn

 

an old drunken man
stops to say hello,
to the schoolchild.

an empty sherry bottle
lies covered in spring blossom.

 

her skin dry and wrinkled
today grandma sees
the pink apple blooms

bent to the ground
so heavily laden with blossom

 

reading a letter,
my tears and laughter
on the same breath.

the pinpoint, on which dance
the angels of desire

 

(Now John's haiku, Chris' response.)

in his every movement,
life merges with death;
the dancing master.

around this peaceful hollow
cliffs and clouds dance.

 

wherever i look,
the one pattern.
there a mountain awakes!

the mists are rising,
cows are grazing freely.

 

a grey cat
rubbing against my leg;
mist among the trees.

white beard tickles
the cuddling child.

 

lead to gold
force to laughter
i am tickled

steel-grey dawn
seagulls bathing

 

the starlings nest
loudly cries.
a parent has arrived

a fluffy currawong
wobbles on a wire

 

magpie feathers waving
from black bitumen,
the spring kill.

cold Spring rain:
Winter too is lingering?

 

building dams in gutters
the man
wistfully remembers the small boy

the one pattern -
in-breath, out-breath

 

time stilled,
the river still flows-
an insect in amber.

In finding the silence,
I hear the voices.

 

a joyful chorus of frog calls
i cough
silence.

no frogs. ah, but..
listening again: frogs!

 

wild animals
outside my window -
frogs!

pissing on everything -
a cat's tail quivering.

 

making puddings on my chest
and purring -
a dreaming cat.

Under a full moon I waited,
in my hut -  and waited.