Image: ‘Darwin’s Tree of Life’ [from public domain image, drawn by Darwin]
Poems: (3.)
(i.) Their Massive God
(ii.)The Noble Love of Freedom
(iii.) To Inhabit the Fields of Time
Poems by Ian Irvine (Hobson), copyright all rights reserved.
Please Note: many of these poems meditate upon or, in some cases rework/recombine, random phrases appearing in the 2nd edition of Charles Darwin’s The Voyage of the Beagle. The first edition of the work appeared in 1839. I hope I have done some justice to the natural lyricism evident in Darwin’s relaxed prose style.
Their Massive God
Whether I killed their God,
one and massive.
book-tombed, with chiselled words
on granite—his puny reign,
mere millennia—
was not the issue.
Mine was the gambler’s fear, for
the mist-wrapped hull of the new
drifts only slowly into view
contrasts with the rotting hulk of God
(as slowly sinking).
How will they endure
this unbearable in-between?
The Noble Love of Freedom
In the forest,
with huge butterflies
that float
among horses and men
such brilliant colours!
– they flit
from shade
to sunshine
I find it dreamy
to think of her
and ignore the granite hills
steep and bare
They tell a story
steep and bare
of runaway slaves
and the moon was dim
(a few fireflies)
and we came upon a desert
followed by a wasteland
of marshes and lagoons
heard the sea’s sullen roar
off in the distance.
We tethered the horses
but they refused to settle.
We tethered the horses
on a sandy plain
next morning, more salt lagoons
and a few stunted trees.
The nights grew hot, and
a dim moon on white sand.
Became aware
(the exact moment is not recorded)
of a problem with the horses.
We bathed in lakes and lagoons
traversed pastures ruined by ants’ nests
passed forests with lofty trees.
Every morning more horses
bitten and infected
until one evening
I saw it in the gloom
suctioned to a horse’s back
a large vampire bat.
I found it dream-like
blatant in the gloom
(How could I ignore the granite hills?)
But then I saw it
suctioned to a horse’s back
a large vampire bat.
To Inhabit the Fields of Time
The more I observe
‘mother nature’, the less
God I see,
the more in need of a God
(or gods)
I become. Even as I
refuse to believe their
broadcast baloney.
The idea gnaws.
I came upon a parasite
in some distant jungle—
it gives me wild ideas, and though
the doctors work their alchemy
I still feel ‘inhabited’. Besides
my son in a coffin.
So many blind millennia—
and still they refuse to see.
But is my vision true—
unencumbered by faith
(my daughter, my daughter)?
The clear and terrible beauty
of aeons of methodical suffering.
He never did intervene. If
he exists, he’s a patient sadist
or useless as the carnivores
of all ages, thrive and
evolve.
***
Ian Irvine is an Australian-based poet/lyricist, fiction writer and non-fiction writer. His work has featured in many Australian and international publications, including Fire (UK) ‘Anthology of 20th Century and Contemporary Poets,’ (2008) which contained the work of poets from over 60 nations.His work has also appeared in a number of Australian national poetry anthologies, and he is the author of three books and co-editor of many more (including Scintillae 2012, an anthology of work by over 50 Victorian and international writers and poets). He currently teaches writing and literature at Bendigo TAFE and Victoria University (Melbourne) and lives with fellow writer Sue King-Smith and their children on a 5 acre block near Bendigo, Australia.
Links related to his work are as follows:
robin@artvilla.com
www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes
