Roll, wind, roll by Tom Cannon

This week the wind’s been from the north, and the west. Here’s a reflection about wind from the south.

 

Watching the wind roll from the South catching sails and hurtling craft forward.

 Where is my wind that will fling me forward to dance across the waves of expectation

 Taking me to a safe harbour tied to someone’s heart not being torn apart

 The wind blows catching the salt bush causing the whistle through the trees

 My sails still furled

Tom Cannon

The Pink Dressing Gown Edition

Comedians Damian Callinan and Mickey D visited Willy beach on Wednesday morning 18 June, as part of their intensive research into their Road Trip show. They arrived in style, wearing pink (salmon?) dressing gowns. After introductions to the Willy Dolphins, Damian plunged into the shallows with much grace and flair. Mickey D, despite Andrew Featherston’s encouragement, barely dipped his toes into the mildly cold water. (14 degrees.)

That evening Damian and Mickey D presented Road Trip at the Williamstown Mechanics’ Institute to an audience of locals who enjoyed having a good laugh at themselves. As well as their beach adventure, the duo visited Blunt’s Boatshed, the Titanic and the Altona market, picnicked by the Altona refineries,  dobbed goals from the boundary at the Morris St ground, challenged Geoff van Wyngaarden to a quiz about the suburb, and asked  shoppers about the Nelson Place development (“How about a giant coffee shop down there? There aren’t enough coffee shops in Willy. Or hairdressers.”).

 

Damian and Mickey D’s Road Trip National Tour

Porcelain Pieces by Michael Harwood

Photo and poem by Michael Harwood

Photo and poem by Michael Harwood

 

Porcelain Pieces

back to the beach

what for?

to hide or reflect

drink from the cup of neglect

swim out, so far from the shore

porcelain pieces

lie on the floor

glitter in a moon bold and full

crushed by the rampaging bull

what for?

your taste on my tongue

what for?

is it a hunger or thirst?

why can’t passion come first?

hot and raw

back to the beach

once more

am I just one grain of sand?

to be held in your hand

what for?

Dolphins on sand

Beach photo

Friday 30 May. Photo by Ray. Poem by Tom.

Standing captured for ever under grey skys

Clearly this swimming caper not a youngster’s game

The Dolpins on sand bringing together a disparate group

Commonality in the clear salt water and the daily stories unfurled

Whether it be the sea in all its mystery or personal tale

Dolphins rarely leave the beach without a smile and a friendly word

An ongoing daily dance as we plunge or wade into the bay

We would have it no other way. The sunrise paints the start of another day

 

Tom Cannon

The Willy Dolphins Swimsuit Edition

Willy Dolphins

The Willy Dophins lined up for their inaugural photo shoot on Friday 30 May, just after a month of mild weather and just before the official start of the winter-to-winter swimming season. Many thanks to photographer Ray (a mate of Pat’s) and to Andrew  for organising the whole shebang. Not all the Dolphins could attend – maybe we’ll have a full house for the T-shirt photo shoot.

Here’s a recent  poem by Kevin.

Save the bay

Upon the shore at Willy Beach, you can spy hearty souls swim out of reach

All year long each and every morn, they take a plunge before the dawn

In winter time their numbers thin, but the dedicated still have their swim

The Willy Dolphins have a cause and ask the litterers to take a pause

We like the water crystal clear and free of rubbish throughout the year

The rubbish dropped at your feet finds the drains in the street

It travels on to a creek or stream and finds the bay it would seem

So think of us when you throw away, use a bin and save the bay.

 

 

And here’s a poem by Tom

Rain

I wasn’t on a plane nor in Spain

It chased me as my hands rhythmically stroked the still sea

Flying forward into darkness no beacon to guide my heart working

Pushing me into the unkown but out there is my direction

I can glimpse the lights just across the bay

The rain continues  I turn my face to the sky my lips open tasting wetness

Then I plunge deep into the depths chasing nothing but myself